When we got into the thick bush the enemy tried several times to rush us, but the bush was as much in our favour as theirs, as it was too thick for them to use their arrows, for which providential circumstance I was devoutly thankful. Once or twice some of the bolder spirits advanced openly along the rearward path in the endeavour to rush my two men and myself, and cut us off, but the Lee-Metford is a beautiful weapon under such circumstances, and they abandoned the attempt. The enemy were constantly increasing in numbers, and the noise they made with their shouting and war-cries was terrific. I think they did it to keep their courage up, but it is a terrible waste of breath. They soon afterwards concentrated in force on our flanks and rear and tried another rush, but we were able by judicious shooting to keep them from getting too close. The bush now ended in a ravine, at the bottom of which was a small stream. On the opposite bank of the stream was the edge of the thick forest which I have previously mentioned, and which extended as far as the open space called Karanjui, an hour’s journey further on. While George superintended the crossing of the men and animals, I and my two men squatted down in the bush at a turn in the path, about a hundred yards in the rear, and prepared a surprise for the enemy. They were howling in a most unmelodious key, and between the howls they informed us that they were coming to kill us, a piece of news which seemed to me to be quite superfluous under the circumstances; they added the interesting information that they were going ahead of us into the wood, and were there going to ambush us. I had already guessed that such was their intention, but I determined that such an awkward situation should not occur if I could prevent it. Our men in their turn inquired why, if they were coming to kill us, did they not come and carry out their intention? It appears that these exchanges of repartee are part of the ceremonial of A’kikuyu warfare, though at the time it seemed to me to be very childish. The enemy then shouted, “Resarse kutire mwaka,” literally, “Your bullets have no fire;” meaning to say that they did not hurt—evidently Bei-Munithu’s teaching. They were asked to “come and see,” an invitation they accepted. My little ambush worked perfectly, and they were within twenty yards when I opened fire. Two of them were put out of action at the first discharge, and the others retreated in disorder, having learnt a wholesome lesson.