The Country of the Dwarfs

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

We enter the great forest; we are going to leave the village of Mouaou-Kombo forever. We are on the path which we took on our way eastward. We are going back. The forest near the village is filled with savages waiting for us behind the trees.

We can only go single file. I give command. Igala is to take the lead; then follow Rebouka, Rapelina, Ngoma, Macondai, and Igalo, the cause of our trouble. I guard the rear; the post of danger, of honor, must belong to me, their chieftain, for I have sworn to them, and their people when I left the sea-shore, to protect them.

All at once I remember Mouitchi. I do not see him. He is not with us. "Mouitchi, where are you?" I cry. "He is dead," replied the Ashangos. "He will never come to you. We have killed him. You will never see him again."

Before plunging into the forest we turn back and shout, "Ashangos, we do not want war. We did not come to your country to kill people. Beware! We leave your village; do not follow us, for if you do there will be war." They answer by a fierce war-cry, and hundreds of spears from afar are thrown at us as in defiance.

"Now," said I, "boys, no more mercy! blood for blood! Fight valiantly, but kill no women, no old men, no children; for remember, you are with a white man, and we never make war on these. I would not dare to raise my head in my country if I had killed women and children."

Three dogs are left. Poor Rover and Fierce have just been killed. More than fifty spears had been thrown at them. They fell bravely in our defense. The forest was filled with armed Ashangos. When we got into the path a large spear was thrown at me from behind a big tree; Macondai saw the man. "Do not kill him," said I; "he is an old man, and he is disarmed." He had no other spear with him. At this moment a poisoned arrow struck into me—a long, slender, bearded arrow, which first pierced the leather belt that held my revolvers. I had no time to take the arrow out; the fighting was too terrific. Six savages all at once rushed upon Macondai from behind a tree. Macondai fired at them, and I came to the rescue. Bang, bang, bang from my revolvers, and the miscreants troubled us no more. Igalo now received a wound from a poisoned arrow, and we were almost surrounded.

My men quickened their speed. "Don't go so fast," I shouted from the rear; but they went on faster and faster. The shouts of the savages became more violent, and they were shooting at us from behind every tree. My Commi ran as fast as they could. Igalo and I remained behind. "Olome (men)," shouted I, "what are you doing?" A panic seized them; they ran faster and faster along the path, and I shouted in vain for them to stop. Wild shouts, and the tramp of scores of infuriated men thirsting for blood, were heard close behind us, and the Ashangos got bolder and bolder as they saw that we quickened our steps. They began to realize that my men were demoralized.

Just as I was raising my gun, an arrow cut the flesh of my middle finger to the bone, severing the small artery, and causing the blood to flow copiously on the path. A little after I heard the Ashangos shout, "Ah! ah! we see your blood on the track; you lose blood. Not one of you shall see the sun set to-day. We are coming; all the villages in front of you will fight you. You shall lie dead like the man you killed. We will cut you to pieces."

I rushed ahead, shouting to my Commi men to stop. Suddenly, as I advanced to overtake them, I see their loads strewn on the ground along the path. They had thrown down their baggage. It was now my turn to be infuriated. I rushed ahead, revolver in hand, and shouted, "I will shoot the first man of you that dares to move a step." They stopped for sheer want of breath. My breath was also almost taken away. I said, "Boys, what have you done? You have run away from the Ashangos. You have left me behind all alone to fight for you. You are to be called by those savages cowards; they will say that you do not know how to fight," and I looked Igala and the other men boldly in the face, and shook my head sorrowfully. "What have you done?" I added. "Where are my photographs? where my note-books? where my route maps? where are those mementos of friends at home? where are my scientific instruments? Gone, thrown away; the toils of years irrecoverably lost. My boys, what have you done?"