They had been atrociously treated by the
natives, and had suffered much. They longed to get their enemies fairly
before them, and the "Forty Thieves" were now keenly looking out for the
approach of the wily Unyoros.
We heard distant voices; they were coming nearer. A sharp clicking of
locks might be heard, as the men got ready.
All Sadik was one of my best shots in "The Forty." I now saw him taking
a steady aim. Saat Choush, who was the champion shot of "The Forty", had
also raised his rifle, and almost immediately several shots were fired,
and the troops rushed forward! Two natives had been knocked over, and
some of the men returned, dragging in a body by the heels.
I now scoured the immediate neighbourhood, and discovered a quantity of
dhurra that was just ripened. This was immediately gathered as a great
prize.
During this interval, my men had been engaged in a most barbarous
ceremony, that perfectly disgusted me.
These superstitious people had an idea, that every bullet they might
fire would kill an Unyoro, if they could only devour a portion of their
enemy's liver.
They had accordingly cut out the liver of the dead man, and having
divided it among them, they positively HAD EATEN IT - raw! They had then
cut the body into pieces with their sword-bayonets, and had disposed
them upon the limbs of various bushes that overhung the path, as a
warning to any Unyoros who should attempt to follow us.
I would not have believed that my "Forty Thieves", whom I had considered
to be nearly civilized, could have committed such a barbarity. The truth
was, that in the high grass they could not see the effect of their
shots; therefore they imagined that the horrid rite of eating an enemy's
liver would give a fatal direction to a random bullet.
We marched, and having had several encounters with the enemy in jungle,
if possible worse than before, we halted at Kaseega.
One of my best men, Serroor, had a narrow escape; a lance went through
his neck, almost grazing the jugular vein.
On 19th June, we marched at 6.5 A.M. This was one of the worst journeys,
as the ravines were numerous, and the forest dark and tangled. It was
difficult for our solitary horse (Jamoos) to carry his load, as it
became continually hooked in the hanging loops of the wild vines. We
were quickly attacked by various ambuscades, in one of which my wife
suffered the loss of a great favourite. This was poor little Jarvah, who
went by the name of the "fat boy." Two spears struck the unhappy lad at
the same moment one of which pinned both his legs as though upon a spit;
the other went through his body. This loss completely upset my wife, as
the unfortunate Jarvah had upon several occasions endeavoured to protect
her from danger.
