John led the men among some trees, and waited until he saw the gate opened, and a number of women come out and wend their way into the plantations to the left. When they were out of sight, he ordered the men to leave their loads and follow him closely without a sound. Then, regardless of his pain, he led the way at a steady run up the hill. Ferrier came to his side. "We do this together, old boy," he said. On they went. They had almost reached the stockade when a woman in the fields to the left saw them, and uttered a loud shriek. John quickened his pace; the men, unable to restrain themselves any longer, raised their voices in a tremendous shout. A few seconds later the whole party, the white men still leading, dashed through the gate, and along the single street, causing a wild stampede among the children playing there, and the women who were moving about. The uproar drew several men from their huts, where they were no doubt indulging themselves in a final nap while their womenkind prepared breakfast. Almost all were old men. At the sight of the invading horde they yelled and fled. John hurried on towards the compound where he had seen the war-party assemble. As the scared negroes left the street vacant, he was struck with amazement at the sight that met his eyes. At the entrance of a hut at one side of the central space stood a figure in white. He had risen from bending over a cooking-pot. Next moment Said Mohammed came towards his master, walking leisurely, his face beaming with smiles. "Good morning, sir," he said blithely. "You have come in nick of time. Banana fritters, new dish to savage with untutored mind, are done to a turn. On point of tickling unappreciative palates, they now serve nobler end, delectating connoisseur who knows what’s what. With respect, sir, I’m jolly glad to see you." Thus the village of the "bad men" was carried without a blow.