"Ober dere, sah," he said. "Bad fellas all gone smash."
Challis raised himself on his elbow. He saw struggling horses, dismounted Tubus, some fleeing over strips of firm ground, others plunging deeper into the morass, with the victorious negroes swarming around them.
"Enough!" cried Challis, anxious to avoid slaughter now that his object was achieved.
He blew a shrill blast on his whistle. Most of the men turned and came hastening towards him.
"Bring off the rest, John," he said. "They are not to fight any more. Get ropes and save the wretches who are sinking in the bog."
The fighting ceased. Some of the negroes took ropes, hurled them towards the struggling Tubus, and hauled them to dry land. The prisoners expected to be butchered, the rescuers to be ordered to slay them. Both were equally surprised when John, at Challis's command, shouted that the Tubus were to be spared. The negroes could not understand why mercy should be shown to a merciless enemy, but Challis saw gladly that they obeyed him.
"Take them near the cave, and set a guard over them," he said. "We will teach them another sort of medicine."
Rising painfully, he surveyed the field. Some sixty Tubus would hunt no more slaves, burn no more villages. Many horses had been captured, together with swords, firearms of various kinds, and ammunition. The victory had been won at small cost.
Challis ordered that the wounded Tubus should be treated exactly like those of his own force. Then, feeling sick and dizzy, but proud of his men, and rejoicing in the success of his first blow for liberty, he went back to the cave, amid lusty shouts from the warriors and shrill cries from the women and children.