The first hour’s march took us through a number of scattered villages, the inhabitants of which fled on our approach and joined the ever-growing force which threatened our rear. The villages were built in the midst of extensive banana plantations, and it was here that the first symptoms of serious opposition manifested themselves. A number of warriors concealed among the bananas commenced to pepper us with poisoned arrows at very short range, though fortunately none of the men were hit. One bold warrior let fly an arrow at George at not more than thirty yards, and then, catching my eye, he subsided behind a banana tree. He did not take into account the penetrative power of a ·303, and I think he must have been a very surprised native indeed when my bullet passed through the pulpy stem of the banana. Another let fly an arrow at the mule, which was being led, and missed her by an inch. George caught him with the 20-bore, dropping him, and then, swinging round, stopped another adventurous warrior who was creeping up to him with the other barrel, to the native’s intense discomfiture. After a little more light skirmishing of this description on the route, we reached a small clearing, and on coming out into the open were cordially greeted with a shower of arrows from a large number of the enemy concealed in the bush on the opposite side. A smart fusillade from our men put a temporary check on the proceedings of this informal reception committee, and we continued our advance. Another warrior, who recklessly exposed his person in order to make insulting remarks with greater effect, retired precipitately with a much better idea of the theory of projectiles than he had hitherto possessed; and another who received a spherical ball in the leg at 200 yards from George, ceased to take any further interest in the proceedings. After this interchange of civilities the enemy kept out of range for awhile, and allowed us to cross the remainder of the banana plantations in safety, and into the thick bush on the other side; however, they were merely gathering reinforcements and preparing to attack in earnest. It being, I believe, an axiom of warfare that “a retreating column should resemble a scorpion and carry its sting in its tail,” I picked out Resarse ben Shokar and Asmani ben Selim as being two of the coolest men, and they, together with a boy named Koranja, who carried my cartridge-bag and binoculars, formed my rearguard. George, with the main body of the men, had his hands full in preventing them firing away their few cartridges at the scenery, and then throwing down their loads and bolting—a proceeding which would have resulted in immediate and overwhelming disaster.