Distinct from it,
as it were, I heard shouts of alarm and rage, and then came the sounds
of gunshots, yells of agony and the thud of many running feet. By now
the light was growing fast, as it does when once it comes in these
latitudes. Three more minutes, and through the grey mist of the dawn
we saw dozens of black figures struggling up the slope towards us.
Some seemed to have logs of wood tied behind them, others crawled
along on all fours, others dragged children by the hand, and all
yelled at the top of their voices.
"The slaves are attacking us," said Stephen, lifting his rifle.
"Don't shoot," I cried. "I think they have broken loose and are taking
refuge with us."
I was right. These unfortunates had used the two knives which our men
smuggled to them to good purpose. Having cut their bonds during the
night they were running to seek the protection of the Englishmen and
their flag. On they surged, a hideous mob, the slave-sticks still fast
to the necks of many of them, for they had not found time or
opportunity to loose them all, while behind came the Arabs firing.
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