CHAPTER XIV.
FOES.
WHEN we had been several hours upon our hot, tedious journey there arosea quarrel out of a practical joke played by one native upon the manwalking before him. Quick, hasty words led to blows being exchanged.
Both men were walking immediately in front of me, and I did my best toquell the disturbance, but either they did not understand me or affectedignorance of my words, for suddenly one of them raising his spear leaptforward upon the other. The man attacked sprang aside and in so doingleft the narrow path, at that spot not more than twelve inches in width,followed by the would-be assassin.
Next second they sank into the sand, and although loud cries of horrorescaped them, both disappeared into the terrible gulf ere a hand could beoutstretched to save them. Hearing their cries I leant forward, butbefore I could grasp either of them the fine sand had closed over theirheads like the waters of the sea, leaving a deep round depression in thesurface. They had disappeared for ever.
The instant death of the two combatants before my gaze caused me toshudder, and I confess that from that moment I kept my eyes rivetted uponthe strange narrow path by which we were crossing the impassable barrier.
Through three whole days we continued along the Way of the ThousandSteps, resting at night and journeying while the light lasted. To haltwas even more perilous than to progress, for when we encamped we simplysat down upon the spot where our footsteps had been arrested, and foodwas passed from hand to hand along the line. This latter was somewhatunsatisfactory, at least as far as I was concerned, for the eatables thatreached me were not improved by passing through the hands of thirty orforty malodorous negroes. But the fatality that had at first appalled ushad now been forgotten, and everyone kept a good heart. Led by Omar wewere approaching a land hitherto unknown; a country reputed to be full ofhidden wonders and strange marvels, and all were, hour by hour, eagerlyscanning the mysterious horizon.
Across the level sand, swept by winds that parched the lips and filledthe eyes with fine dust, causing us infinite misery, our gaze was everturned northward where Omar told us lay our land of promise. The verylast hesitations on the part of our followers had long been overcome. TheAfrican savage is not given to roaming far from his own tract, fearingcapture or assassination at the hands of neighbouring tribes, but suchconfidence had the men of Dagomba that if Omar had plunged into thequicksands they would have followed without comment.
When at Trigger's I had often read stories of African adventure. I usedto fancy myself buried in forest wilds, or eating luncheon upon thegrass, on the edge of a tumbling brook in the shadow of great outlandishtrees; I could feel the juice of luscious fruits--mangroves andbananas--trickle between my teeth. I had once read in one of the boys'papers about the daughter of an African colonist abducted by the son of aWest African king who had fallen in love with her; and the ups and downsand ins and outs of this love drama had opened a boundless vista to myimagination. But life in Africa contained far more excitement than I hadever imagined. Death threatened everywhere, and I received constantwarnings from Omar, who gave me good advice how to avoid sunstroke orward off the effects of the chill wind that blew nightly across thiswonderful limitless plain.
One evening, when the horizon northward looked grey and mysterious, andto our left the fiery sun's last dying ray still lingered in the sky,there was a sudden halt, the cause of which was I afterwards found due tothe sudden stoppage of our leader, Omar. All were eager to know thecause, until in a few moments an amazing announcement spread from mouthto mouth along the line.
There were strangers on ahead of us! They were actually traversing theWay of the Thousand Steps!
Shading my eyes with my hands I eagerly scanned the horizon in thedirection indicated, and there, to my astonishment, saw a long thin blackline. At first I could not distinguish whether it was a file of men orsome inanimate object, but the keen eyes of the savages before and behindme soon detected its presence, and dozens of voices were in accord thatit was a line of armed men, and that they were moving in our direction.
Instantly it flashed across my mind that whoever they were, friends orfoes, there was not sufficient room for them to pass us upon that narrowpath, and knowing the determination of our followers I wondered what theresult would be when we met. Unable to approach Omar sufficiently near toconverse with him, I watched his face. By the heavy look upon his brow Iknew that trouble was brewing. It was the same look his face wore when wehad been held captive at Kumassi, an expression of resolution and fiercecombativeness.
Soon, however, we moved along again, eager to ascertain who were thestrangers who knew the secret supposed to have been jealously guarded bythe great Naya and her son, and for over an hour pressed forward at aquicker pace than usual. Fortunately for us the sunset lingered long awayto our left, for by its light we were enabled to see the men approaching,and before it died out to distinguish, to our amazement, that they allwore white Arab burnouses and were armed to the teeth. In point ofnumbers they were quite double the strength of our little force, but weknew not whether they were friendly or antagonistic.
This point, however, was at last cleared up by Omar himself, who, just asit was growing dusk halted, and, turning towards me, shouted in English:
"Scars, are you there?"
"Yes," I answered. "What's up?"
"Those devils in front! Can't you see their banner?"
"No," I answered. Then remembering that he had always possessed a keenvision, I added: "Who are they?"
"Some of Samory's men, evidently in flight," he answered. "On seeing usthey raised their banner, and are, it seems, determined to cut their waypast us."
"But where have they been that they should know the secret of theThousand Steps?" I inquired astounded.
"I'm quite at a loss to understand," he replied puzzled. "The onlysolution of the mystery seems to be that Kouaga has, by some means,obtained knowledge of the secret way, and has directed a marauding forcethither. Evidently they have been defeated by the guardians of Mo, andthe remnant of the force--a strong one, too--are retreating, flying fortheir lives."
"How do you know there has been fighting?" I enquired.
"Because I can just detect near the banner two wounded men are beingcarried."
"Then we must fight and wipe them out," I said.
"Easier said than done," he answered. "But it means life or death to us."
On they came in single file, nearer every moment, and soon I also couldsee the dreaded banner of the Mohammedan sheikh Samory. Near theflag-bearer were several wounded men being carried in litters, while thewhite-robed soldiers carried long rifles and in their sashes werepistols, and those keen carved knives called _jambiyahs_. At first ournatives, believing that they were friendlies, went forwardenthusiastically, determined to drive them back with banter, there notbeing room to pass, but very soon Omar ordered another halt, and turningtowards us, cried in a loud voice in his native tongue:
"Behold, O men of the Dagomba! Yonder are the fighting men of Samory, whotimes without number have raided your country, killed your fathers andsons, and sold your wives and sisters into slavery in Ashanti. They haveendeavoured to enter Mo by the Way of the Thousand Steps, but beingdefeated by the guardians of our border are flying towards their ownland. We too must fight them, or we must perish."
The air was immediately filled with fierce howls and yells. Theannouncement that these men were the hated slave-raiders of Samory causedan instant rush to arms. Loud cries of revenge sounded on every side,spears were flourished, knives gripped in fierce determination, and thosewho had muskets made certain that their weapons were loaded. The air wasrent by shrill war shouts, and the great drum with its hideousdecorations was thumped loudly by two perspiring negroes who grinnedhideously as they watched the steadily marching force approaching.
"Courage, men of the Dagomba," sounded Kona's voice above the din. "Sweepthese vermin from our path. Let not a single man escape; but let them allbe swallowed by the Sand-God."
> "We will eat them up," cried half-a-dozen voices in response. "Our spearsshall seek their vitals."
"Guard against their onward rush," cried Omar. "They will seek to throwus off the path by a dash forward. Thwart them, and victory is ours."
Ere these words had left our leader's lips, the air was again filled bythe wild clamours of my dark companions, and as we had halted just at apoint where we would be compelled to turn at right angles, we remainedthere in order to attack the Arabs as they advanced.
The sun's glow had faded, dark clouds had come up on the mystic linewhere sand and sky united, and dusk was creeping on apace when theenemy, sweeping forward, shouting and gesticulating, came within gunshot.From their van a single flash showed for an instant, followed by thesharp crack of a musket, and a bullet whizzed past Omar, striking one ofthe natives a few yards away, passing through his brain and killing himinstantly.
A silence, deep and complete, fell for an instant upon us. In thatexciting moment we knew that the fight must be fiercely contested, andthat, unable to move scarcely an inch from the spot where we werestanding, the struggle must be long and sanguinary.