We had not more than fifteen or sixteen effectives
left now, and the Masai had at least fifty. Of course if they
had kept their heads, and shaken themselves together, they could
soon have made an end of the matter; but that is just what they
did not do, not having yet recovered from their start, and some
of them having actually fled from their sleeping-places without
their weapons. Still by now many individuals were fighting with
their normal courage and discretion, and this alone was sufficient
to defeat us. To make matters worse just then, when Mackenzie's
rifle was empty, a brawny savage armed with a 'sime', or sword,
made a rush for him. The clergyman flung down his gun, and drawing
his huge carver from his elastic belt (his revolver had dropped
out in the fight), they closed in desperate struggle. Presently,
locked in a close embrace, missionary and Masai rolled on the
ground behind the wall, and for some time I, being amply occupied
with my own affairs, and in keeping my skin from being pricked,
remained in ignorance of his fate or how the duel had ended.
To and fro surged the fight, slowly turning round like the vortex
of a human whirlpool, and the matter began to look very bad for
us. Just then, however, a fortunate thing happened.
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