We saw before us the hill covered with plantain groves where we
had slept when upon the march to Masindi.
The grass was very high, and the path hardly a foot wide, only
resembling a sheep run. Suddenly the advance-guard opened a hot fire,
and the bugle sounded "halt!"
A few paces in front of me, my favourite sailor and fisherman, Howarti,
was in the line, carrying a metal box upon his head. In addition to his
musket, which was slung across his shoulders, I had given him one of my
double breechloading pistols, which he carried in his belt.
The word was suddenly passed that "Howarti was speared!"
Lances now flew across the path, and the line opened fire into the grass
upon our right, according to orders.
I immediately went up to Howarti. I found him sitting upon the ground
by the side of his box, in the act of reloading his pistol with a Boxer
cartridge. A lance had struck him in the fleshy part of the right arm,
just below the point of junction with the shoulder, and, passing through
his body, it had protruded from his stomach.
