The Ashangos began to learn how to fight us. We had not gone far when suddenly they came again in great numbers without uttering a war-cry. The path was most difficult when we became aware of their appearance; steep hill lay beyond steep hill; stream after stream had to be crossed, and we increased our speed, for we were to be under a disadvantage; but it was fortunate that we knew the ground by having been over it before. Suddenly a paralyzing thud, accompanied by a sharp pain, told me that I had been struck from behind my back or in flank by an unknown enemy. This time it was in my side that I was wounded. We were just going up a steep hill, and I turned to see my assailant. Igalo, the poor good fellow, the unfortunate cause of our woe, was by my side, and turned round also to see who had launched the missile. Lo, what do we descry lying flat on the ground among the dry leaves, still as death? An Ashango, crouched as still as a snake in its coil, his bright eyes flashing vindictively at me. Igalo, in the twinkling of an eye, discharged his gun at him, and the too-skillful bowman lay low, never to rise again. I could not help it—I felt sorry; I deplored that fight with my whole heart from the beginning. This time I was wounded badly. The arrow was bearded, small, and slender, and had gone deeply into my stomach, and if the leather belt which held my revolvers, and through which it passed, had not weakened its force. I should have been mortally wounded; but a kind Providence watched over me, and, though another wound disabled that poor, tired, worn-out body of mine, I did not grumble. I had reached that state in which I did not care. The trouble was that I had to go with that arrow in my body, for there was no time to disengage it.
My men came around me, for they saw that the pain had turned me deadly pale, and, though not a cry of anguish was uttered by me (for I, their chief, must teach them how to suffer), they saw that my strength was gradually giving away.
How painful that little bit of bearded arrow was as part of it lay inside, and the other part in the leather!
We were now near Mobana, and the Mouaou warriors, and those that had been added to them, were still pursuing us. Happily, we knew every hill and every stream. We crossed the Bembo, a stream with which you were made acquainted on our way east, and the ascent of the steep hill on the other side was terrible. The Mouaou warriors were shouting all the time, "Men of Mobana, do not let the Oguizi pass! They have killed our people!"
Approaching Mobana, we could hear the war-drums beating in the village, but fortunately the path led us by the end of the street, and as we passed we saw the Mobanians in battle array, and heard them sending fierce war-cries at us.
The Mobanians made common cause with the Mouaou people, and they were like a body of fresh troops coming to the rescue—they were not tired. The situation was becoming grave, especially if the people ahead of us were also in sympathy with the Mouaou people.
We recognized the leading Mobana warrior, armed with his bow and several quivers of arrows. Happily they were at some distance from us, and I ordered my men not to fire at them, thinking that perhaps when they saw that we did not desire to make war they might remain quiet in their village, and not pursue us.
We had no time to lose, for I knew that Mobana was situated on the top of a very steep and high hill, and of course I did not want to be taken in the rear by those savages, and subjected to a plunging fire of spears and arrows from their high elevation, from which they could look down on us.
"Boys," said I, "let us go down this hill quickly, so that we may reach the bottom and ascend the other before they come; then we shall have a great advantage over our enemies. We descended the hill, the multitude of savages following us, shouting, "Ah! ah! you run away! You do not know this forest; you shall never leave it; we will kill you all; we will cut your bodies to pieces!"