The little French force was wavering when Boubakar-Ségou received, almost point-blank, a charge of slugs in the right temple.
The brains of the negro chief were scattered abroad. To the sound of the tabala and the iron cymbals he fell, surrounded by his priests, and entangled in his long strings of amulets. For his tribes, his fall was the signal for retreat.
The negro army resumed its march towards the impenetrable tracts of the interior, and no obstacle was opposed to its flight. The French army, indeed, was no longer in any condition to pursue them.
The red head-band of the great rebel chief was brought back to St Louis. It was all singed and riddled with shot holes. A long festoon of talismans was suspended from it, consisting of little pouches covered with various sorts of embroidery, and containing mysterious powders, cabalistic drawings, and prayers in the Maghreb tongue.
Boubakar-Ségou’s death produced a far-reaching moral effect upon the indigenous population. Inasmuch as the battle was followed by the submission of several insurgent chiefs, it might fairly be considered a victory.
The expeditionary force returned to St Louis immediately. Promotions and decorations were conferred on all the participators, but there were many gaps in the ranks of the poor spahis.
XXVI
Jean dragged himself under the scanty foliage of the tamarisks, sought a shady spot for his head, and disposed himself there to await death.
He suffered from thirst, burning thirst, and presently his throat was convulsed by slight, spasmodic movements.
He had often witnessed the death of comrades in Africa, and he recognised this distressing indication of the approaching end, which people call the death sob.