In this way the vultures for twenty miles round can be summoned
to the feast in a few minutes.
We buried our dead in solemn silence, Good being selected to
read the Burial Service over them (in the absence of Mr Mackenzie,
confined to bed), as he was generally allowed to possess the
best voice and most impressive manner. It was melancholy in
the extreme, but, as Good said, it might have been worse, for
we might have had 'to bury ourselves'. I pointed out that this
would have been a difficult feat, but I knew what he meant.
Next we set to work to load an ox-wagon which had been brought
round from the Mission with the dead bodies of the Masai, having
first collected the spears, shields, and other arms. We loaded
the wagon five times, about fifty bodies to the load, and emptied
it into the Tana. From this it was evident that very few of
the Masai could have escaped. The crocodiles must have been
well fed that night. One of the last bodies we picked up was
that of the sentry at the upper end. I asked Good how he managed
to kill him, and he told me that he had crept up much as Umslopogaas
had done, and stabbed him with his sword. He groaned a good
deal, but fortunately nobody heard him. As Good said, it was
a horrible thing to have to do, and most unpleasantly like
cold-blooded murder.
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