They drew rein for a moment to take stock of the little force opposed to them. Realising how small it was, they burst into mocking shouts and charged. Challis had hoped for nothing better, knowing that spears were no match for firearms.
He blew his whistle. Fifty more pikemen trooped out from the bushes on the right, and formed a second line behind the first; twenty ranged themselves in a third line. Then, before the jeering horsemen had covered half the distance between the two forces, they saw themselves confronted by a triple line of bristling pikes, a kind of obstacle to which they were unaccustomed.
But they did not check their charge. Galloping on with furious shouts, they were within a hundred yards of the pikemen when a flight of spears from their left hurtled among their ranks. Carried on by their impetus, the horsemen dashed upon the pikes outstretched across their front. In some cases the riders, in others the unfortunate horses, were the victims.
Some penetrated the first line and the second, only to find still a third awaiting them. Meanwhile their comrades in the rear had been assailed by another shower of spears, and, led by Challis, the pikemen whose weapons had not been broken by the charge pressed forward on the now wavering ranks.
Then the thirty spearmen on the hill came into action, darting out upon the rear of the Tubus, hurling their spears, and following up with a charge. Assailed in front, flank, and rear, the Tubus lost heart, pulled their horses round, and galloped away in the only open direction, towards the stream.
Crowding one upon another in their haste, many of them urged their horses on to the swamp, unaware of its treacherous surface until the animals began to sink. Then the men sprang from the saddles in fright, abandoned horses, arms, food, and rushed headlong away, to escape the spears of their pursuers.
It was just at the moment when the flight began that the victors temporarily lost their leader. As one of the Tubus was wheeling his horse, he dealt a sweeping cut with his scimitar at the pikeman standing next to Challis in the line. Challis threw up his rifle and intercepted the blow, which drove a deep dent into the barrel. The force of the impact caused him to stagger against the horse's flank; he was thrown to the ground, and the horse, galloping off, dealt him a kick with one of its hind hoofs. His pith helmet was flattened on his head. It saved his life, but he lay stunned where he fell.
When he came to himself, he found John bending over him, with a score of the negroes in a silent, anxious group behind.
"Where are they?" were his first words.
The negroes shouted with joy when they saw that the man who had taught them "medicine" was still alive. John pointed to the swamp.