"Certainly; it is always wiser to attack than wait to be attacked."
So it was determined to give the little army a hearty supper, let them turn in early, and ready to start by three, inland now through the jungle, towards Benin. The real distance from Sapelé to Benin is, I believe, about twenty-five miles, but the road, if road it could be called, was bad enough in all conscience.
Nevertheless, it was determined to drag along two guns, with a good supply of shell. The bugle sounded prettily over woods and dells and river, shortly after two, and on finishing their hurried breakfast the force fell in.
Very proud indeed was Creggan to be allowed to go along with it, armed not only with a good cutlass, instead of the almost useless dirk, but with a revolver.
This was indeed a forced march, for before four o'clock next day they had got within twelve miles of the dismal city, with only one halt to partake of food, although much wood had to be cut down. They immediately hewed trees and bushes and went into laager, expecting an attack at any moment. When as safe as could be, fires were lit and supper cooked. Under other circumstances they would have remained silent and in the dark, but the commanding officer well knew that long before this time the blood-stained king would have heard of their advance. So, no attempt at concealment was necessary.
But the men were tired, so soon after supper fires were banked, and in an hour's time there was hardly a sound to be heard in the laager.
Dr. Grant and Creggan were the last to stretch themselves on their pallets of grass. Grant in his own wild Highland home had been used to roughing it, and Creggan, as we know, led a very active life on the Island of Wings. So neither felt tired.
The night was balmy with the odour of many gorgeous wild flowers, and it was even cool. The moon shone like a disc of gold, high up near the zenith, dimming even the effulgence of the brightest stars, and casting a strange, dreamy, phosphorescent light over the shapeless masses of cloud-like trees, and a brighter glimmer on the tall feathery cocoa-nut palms. Now and then away in the woods, there arose the mournful cry of some bird of prey, a cry that would make the marvellously beautiful king-fishers crouch lower to the perches on which they sat, and thrill their hearts with terror.
Now and then a fleecy, snow-white cloudlet would sail gently over the moon's disc, making the light scenery momentarily dimmer, but soon all was brightness once more. From an adjacent creek at times would come the sound of a heavy plunge, but whether from ghastly crocodile or hippopotamus they could not tell.
"It is indeed a goodly night," said Grant.