Part 12 (1/2)
There were strangers on ahead of us! They were actually traversing the Way of the Thousand Steps!
Shading my eyes with my hands I eagerly scanned the horizon in the direction indicated, and there, to my astonishment, saw a long thin black line. At first I could not distinguish whether it was a file of men or some inanimate object, but the keen eyes of the savages before and behind me soon detected its presence, and dozens of voices were in accord that it 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 or foes, there was not sufficient room for them to pa.s.s us upon that narrow path, and knowing the determination of our followers I wondered what the result would be when we met. Unable to approach Omar sufficiently near to converse with him, I watched his face. By the heavy look upon his brow I knew that trouble was brewing. It was the same look his face wore when we had been held captive at k.u.ma.s.si, an expression of resolution and fierce combativeness.
Soon, however, we moved along again, eager to ascertain who were the strangers who knew the secret supposed to have been jealously guarded by the great Naya and her son, and for over an hour pressed forward at a quicker pace than usual. Fortunately for us the sunset lingered long away to 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 all wore white Arab burnouses and were armed to the teeth. In point of numbers they were quite double the strength of our little force, but we knew not whether they were friendly or antagonistic.
This point, however, was at last cleared up by Omar himself, who, just as it 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 keen vision, I added: ”Who are they?”
”Some of Samory's men, evidently in flight,” he answered. ”On seeing us they raised their banner, and are, it seems, determined to cut their way past us.”
”But where have they been that they should know the secret of the Thousand Steps?” I inquired astounded.
”I'm quite at a loss to understand,” he replied puzzled. ”The only solution of the mystery seems to be that Kouaga has, by some means, obtained knowledge of the secret way, and has directed a marauding force thither. Evidently they have been defeated by the guardians of Mo, and the remnant of the force--a strong one, too--are retreating, flying for their lives.”
”How do you know there has been fighting?” I enquired.
”Because I can just detect near the banner two wounded men are being carried.”
”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 could see the dreaded banner of the Mohammedan sheikh Samory. Near the flag-bearer were several wounded men being carried in litters, while the white-robed soldiers carried long rifles and in their sashes were pistols, and those keen carved knives called _jambiyahs_. At first our natives, believing that they were friendlies, went forward enthusiastically, determined to drive them back with banter, there not being room to pa.s.s, but very soon Omar ordered another halt, and turning towards us, cried in a loud voice in his native tongue:
”Behold, O men of the Dagomba! Yonder are the fighting men of Samory, who times without number have raided your country, killed your fathers and sons, and sold your wives and sisters into slavery in Ashanti. They have endeavoured to enter Mo by the Way of the Thousand Steps, but being defeated by the guardians of our border are flying towards their own land. We too must fight them, or we must perish.”
The air was immediately filled with fierce howls and yells. The announcement that these men were the hated slave-raiders of Samory caused an instant rush to arms. Loud cries of revenge sounded on every side, spears were flourished, knives gripped in fierce determination, and those who had muskets made certain that their weapons were loaded. The air was rent by shrill war shouts, and the great drum with its hideous decorations was thumped loudly by two perspiring negroes who grinned hideously as they watched the steadily marching force approaching.
”Courage, men of the Dagomba,” sounded Kona's voice above the din. ”Sweep these vermin from our path. Let not a single man escape; but let them all be swallowed by the Sand-G.o.d.”
”We will eat them up,” cried half-a-dozen voices in response. ”Our spears shall seek their vitals.”
”Guard against their onward rush,” cried Omar. ”They will seek to throw us 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 by the wild clamours of my dark companions, and as we had halted just at a point where we would be compelled to turn at right angles, we remained there in order to attack the Arabs as they advanced.
The sun's glow had faded, dark clouds had come up on the mystic line where sand and sky united, and dusk was creeping on apace when the enemy, sweeping forward, shouting and gesticulating, came within gunshot.
From their van a single flash showed for an instant, followed by the sharp crack of a musket, and a bullet whizzed past Omar, striking one of the natives a few yards away, pa.s.sing through his brain and killing him instantly.
A silence, deep and complete, fell for an instant upon us. In that exciting moment we knew that the fight must be fiercely contested, and that, unable to move scarcely an inch from the spot where we were standing, the struggle must be long and sanguinary.