warriors one thing, namely, that some kind of spirits were exterminating the Samburus below. Then the thought flashed through his mind that if he did not come to the aid of those spirits, he might incur their wrath, and as the extermination of the Samburus was his salvation, he mustered all his warriors about him and sallied forth from a secret side exit of the boma and cut off the road of a greater part of the fugitives. The battle now changed into a massacre. The Samburu drums ceased to beat. In the darkness, which was rent only by the red flashes cast by Kali's rifle, resounded the howls of the men being killed, the hollow blows of the maces against shields and the groans of the wounded. Nobody begged for mercy, for mercy is unknown to negroes. Kali, from a fear that in the darkness and confusion he might wound his own people, finally ceased to fire, and seizing Gebhr's sword rushed with it into the midst of the enemies. The Samburus could now flee from the mountains towards their frontiers only by way of one wide pass, but as Fumba blocked this pass with his warriors, out of the whole host only those were safe who, throwing themselves upon the ground, permitted themselves to be taken alive, though they knew that a cruel slavery awaited them, or even immediate death at the hands of the victors. Mamba defended himself heroically until a blow of a mace crushed his skull. His son, young Faru, fell into Fumba's hand, who ordered him bound, as a future sacrifice of gratitude to the spirits which had come to his assistance.
Stas did not drive the terrible King into the battle; he permitted him only to trumpet to increase the terror of the enemies. He himself did not fire a single shot from his rifle at the Samburus, for in the first place he had promised little Nell on leaving Luela that he would not kill any one, and again he actually had no desire to kill
