men a dozen times from throwing away their burdens and fleeing like
frightened rabbits up the trail toward the north. And so the day
wore on--a frightful nightmare of a day for the raiders--a day
of weary but well-repaid work for the Waziri. At night the Arabs
constructed a rude BOMA in a little clearing by a river, and went
into camp.

At intervals during the night a rifle would bark close above their
heads, and one of the dozen sentries which they now had posted
would tumble to the ground. Such a condition was insupportable,
for they saw that by means of these hideous tactics they would be
completely wiped out, one by one, without inflicting a single death
upon their enemy. But yet, with the persistent avariciousness of
the white man, the Arabs clung to their loot, and when morning came
forced the demoralized Manyuema to take up their burdens of death
and stagger on into the jungle.

For three days the withering column kept up its frightful march.
Each hour was marked by its deadly arrow or cruel spear. The
nights were made hideous by the barking of the invisible gun that
made sentry duty equivalent to a death sentence.

On the morning of the fourth day the Arabs were compelled to shoot
two of their blacks before they could compel the balance to take
up the hated ivory, and as they did so a voice rang out, clear and
strong, from the jungle: "Today you die, oh, Manyuema, unless you
lay down the ivory. Fall upon your cruel masters and kill them!
You have guns, why do you not use them? Kill the Arabs, and we
will not harm you. We will take you back to our village and feed
you, and lead you out of our country in safety and in peace. Lay