“Pay, Bana, pay: it is better to get along quietly in this country,” he observed.
Mabruki and Asmani agreed with him. The hongo was paid. Stanley wisely resolved, if possible, not to come back that way.
A night march was determined on, and sufficient grain was purchased to last the caravan six days through the jungle. They hoped thus to escape the extortions of other chiefs to the westward. The men bravely toiled on, without murmuring, though their feet and legs bled from the cutting grass.
The jungle was alive with wild animals, but no one dared fire.
As they were halting in the morning near the Rusugi river, a party of natives were seen, who detected them in their hiding-place, but who fled immediately to alarm some villages four miles away. At once the caravan was ordered to move on, but one of the women took to screaming, and even her husband could not keep her quiet till a cloth was folded over her mouth.
At night they bivouacked in silence, neither tent nor hut being erected, each soldier lying down with his gun loaded by his side, their gallant leader, with his Winchester rifle and its magazine full, ready for any emergency.
Before dawn broke, the caravan was again on its march. The guide having made a mistake, while it was still dark, they arrived in front of the village of Uhha. Silence was ordered; goats and chickens which might have made a noise had their throats cut, and they pushed boldly through the village. Just as the last hut was passed, Stanley bringing up the rear, a man appeared from his hut, and uttered a cry of alarm.
They continued their course, plunging into the jungle. Once he believed that they were followed, and he took post behind a tree to check the advance of their foes; but it proved a false alarm.
Turning westward, broad daylight showed them a beautiful and picturesque country, with wild fruit-trees, rare flowers, and brooks tumbling over polished pebbles.
Crossing a streamlet, to their great satisfaction they left Uhha and its extortionate inhabitants behind, and entered Ukaranga.