FOES.
When we had been several hours upon our hot, tedious journey there arose a quarrel out of a practical joke played by one native upon the man walking before him. Quick, hasty words led to blows being exchanged.
Both men were walking immediately in front of me, and I did my best to quell the disturbance, but either they did not understand me or affected ignorance of my words, for suddenly one of them raising his spear leapt forward upon the other. The man attacked sprang aside and in so doing left the narrow path, at that spot not more than twelve inches in width, followed by the would-be assassin.
Next second they sank into the sand, and although loud cries of horror escaped them, both disappeared into the terrible gulf ere a hand could be outstretched to save them. Hearing their cries I leant forward, but before I could grasp either of them the fine sand had closed over their heads like the waters of the sea, leaving a deep round depression in the surface. They had disappeared for ever.
The instant death of the two combatants before my gaze caused me to shudder, and I confess that from that moment I kept my eyes rivetted upon the strange narrow path by which we were crossing the impassable barrier.
Through three whole days we continued along the Way of the Thousand Steps, resting at night and journeying while the light lasted. To halt was even more perilous than to progress, for when we encamped we simply sat down upon the spot where our footsteps had been arrested, and food was passed from hand to hand along the line. This latter was somewhat unsatisfactory, at least as far as I was concerned, for the eatables that reached me were not improved by passing through the hands of thirty or forty malodorous negroes. But the fatality that had at first appalled us had now been forgotten, and everyone kept a good heart. Led by Omar we were approaching a land hitherto unknown; a country reputed to be full of hidden wonders and strange marvels, and all were, hour by hour, eagerly scanning the mysterious horizon.
Across the level sand, swept by winds that parched the lips and filled the eyes with fine dust, causing us infinite misery, our gaze was ever turned northward where Omar told us lay our land of promise. The very last hesitations on the part of our followers had long been overcome. The African savage is not given to roaming far from his own tract, fearing capture or assassination at the hands of neighbouring tribes, but such confidence had the men of Dagomba that if Omar had plunged into the quicksands they would have followed without comment.
When at Trigger's I had often read stories of African adventure. I used to fancy myself buried in forest wilds, or eating luncheon upon the grass, on the edge of a tumbling brook in the shadow of great outlandish trees; I could feel the juice of luscious fruits—mangroves and bananas—trickle between my teeth. I had once read in one of the boys' papers about the daughter of an African colonist abducted by the son of a West African king who had fallen in love with her; and the ups and downs and ins and outs of this love drama had opened a boundless vista to my imagination. But life in Africa contained far more excitement than I had ever imagined. Death threatened everywhere, and I received constant warnings from Omar, who gave me good advice how to avoid sunstroke or ward off the effects of the chill wind that blew nightly across this wonderful limitless plain.
One evening, when the horizon northward looked grey and mysterious, and to our left the fiery sun's last dying ray still lingered in the sky, there was a sudden halt, the cause of which was I afterwards found due to the sudden stoppage of our leader, Omar. All were eager to know the cause, until in a few moments an amazing announcement spread from mouth to mouth along the line.
There were strangers on ahead of us! They were actually traversing the Way of the Thousand Steps!