As the men marched, onward, goading on the slaves with revolting brutality, I lingered behind for a moment to pick up a curiously-shaped axe that had apparently been forgotten. As I did so a loud, despairing shriek fell upon my ear.
I glanced around. The last of the rear guard of Tippu-Tib’s brigands had disappeared along the dark track. I remembered that the register of the actions of the righteous is in Illiyyûn, the book distinctly written: those who approach near unto Allah being witnesses thereto.
Again the piercing shriek was repeated, and I knew that the unfortunate wretch, bound to a tree, was being tortured to death, and literally devoured by a myriad insects. The injustice of his sentence caused me to hesitate, and a second later I resolved to release him.
I had but a few moments in which to accomplish it, for I well knew that, if discovered, my own life might be taken by the wild, bloodthirsty horde, who were indeed companions of the left hand, whom Allah had cut off, and over whom was the arched fire. Nevertheless, I dashed into the jungle, axe in hand, and guided by the condemned man’s cries, found him lashed tightly to a tree, and already covered from head to foot by the pests.
In an instant my axe severed his bonds and he sprang forward, and falling upon his knees, gratefully kissed my feet, uttering many words of thanks which I could not understand.
But I had not a moment to linger, therefore I gave him “peace,” and speeding back again to the smouldering ashes of the village, plunged into the forest depths down the dark, narrow path my merciless companions, the ivory-raiders, had taken.