The first was that the woman and child we had
rescued wee so weak they could not walk without rest, and we had no
men to spare to carry them; the second that we came to an ideal spot
to pass the night. It was, as usual, a deserted village through which
ran a beautiful stream of water. Here we took possession of some
outlying huts with a fence round them, and as Mavovo had managed to
shoot a fat eland cow and her half-grown calf, we prepared to have a
regular feast. Whilst Sammy was making some broth for the rescued
woman, and Stephen and I smoked our pipes and watched him, Hans
slipped through the broken gate of the thorn fence, or /boma/, and
announced that Arabs were coming, two lots of them with many slaves.
We ran out to look and saw that, as he had said, two caravans were
approaching, or rather had reached the village, but at some distance
from us, and were now camping on what had once been the market-place.
One of these was that whose track we had followed, although during the
last few hours of our march we had struck away from it, chiefly
because we could not bear such sights as I have described.
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