Now it was that I saw a very welcome sight, namely Hans, yes, the lost
Hans himself, with his filthy hat whereof I noticed even then the
frayed ostrich feathers were smouldering, hanging by a leather strap
at the back of his head. He was shambling along in a sly and silent
sort of way, but at a great rate with his mouth open, beckoning over
his shoulder, and behind him came about one hundred and fifty Mazitu.
Those Mazitu soon put another complexion upon the affair, for charging
with a roar, they drove back the Arabs, who had no space to develop
their line, straight into the jaws of that burning hell. A little
later the rest of the Mazitu returned with Babemba and finished the
job. Only quite a few of the Arabs got out and were captured after
they had thrown down their guns. The rest retreated into the centre of
the market-place, whither our people followed them. In this crisis the
blood of these Mazitu told, and they stuck to the enemy as Zulus
themselves would certainly have done.
It was over! Great Heaven! it was over, and we began to count our
losses.
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