Howarti had always been a
true, good man, and he had just exhibited his cool courage. He had
himself pulled the spear from his body.
My wife had followed me immediately upon hearing that Howarti was
injured. He had reloaded his pistol, but in reply to my question whether
he could sit upon a donkey, he fainted. I roughly bandaged him for the
present moment, and we laid him upon an angareb (stretcher-bedstead),
but the men were so heavily laden that it was difficult to find
supporters. Lieutenant Baker kindly took one end upon his shoulder, and
with the assistance of the guard, we carried him forward. The bugle
sounded the "advance."
Again the lances flew across the path, but a few shots with the sniders
cleared the way, and leaving the narrow route, we broke our way through
the tangled grass, and ascended the slope to the plantain forest. Here,
thank goodness, there was no grass. The bugle sounded "halt" in the
middle of the plantains.
Sentries having been posted, every man was now employed in felling the
tall plantain trees, and in arranging them to form a wall around the
camp.
One blow of a sharp, heavy sabre will cut through the stem, thus in a
short time, as we all worked, a clearing of about an acre was made, and
by sunset we had piled them so as to form a tolerable protection from
lances.
