They were unarmed.
From Senari the victorious Fashodians marched to Bari, and again commenced a carnival of slaughter and plunder.
The Arabs of Bari showed considerable spirit, for they armed themselves with knives, long sticks and various other weapons, and rushed upon the bayonets and muskets of the invaders, fighting against terrible odds and at great disadvantage.
Again the same scenes of horrible brutality were witnessed.
The butchery was at its height when a cloud of dust and sand was seen in the distance, and in a few minutes a gallant band of well-armed Arabs rode into the center of the village, and charged the Fashodians with an impetuosity entirely foreign to the Arab nature.
“Come on, boys!” shouted Sherif el Habib, in good Arabian. “I don’t know what the quarrel is about, but the villagers are the weakest.”
“That’s so!” shouted Max; “and in my country we always go to help the under dog of the fight.”
Our friends, Mohammed and Sherif, with their lieutenants, Max and Ibrahim, arrived at the very nick of time.
The governor of Fashoda believed that the Mahdi had come.
The villagers declared that Allah had answered their prayers, and that very thought caused them to fight with desperate courage, even though they were practically unarmed.