Five days after leaving the Victoria Nile, the caravan arrived at Shooa, where Sir Samuel and his wife received a hearty welcome. Some months were spent in this pleasant locality, the Turks profiting by the opportunity to make razzias upon the neighbouring tribes, so that, for many miles around, the blackened ruins of villages and the desolated fields bore witness to their reckless cruelty; cattle were carried off in thousands, and a fair and fertile region was converted into a dreary wilderness. The captives made were detained to be sold as slaves. On one occasion, among the victims brought in to the Turkish camp was a pretty young girl of about fifteen. She had been sold by auction, as usual, the day after the return from the razzia, and had fallen to the lot of one of the men. A few days later, there appeared in the camp a native from the plundered village, intent upon ransoming the girl with a quantity of ivory. He had scarcely entered the gateway, when the girl, who was sitting at the door of her owner’s hut, descried him, and springing to her feet, ran with all the speed her chained ankles permitted, and flung herself into his arms, with the cry of “My father!” Yes; it was her father who, to rescue his child from degradation, had nobly risked his life in his brutal enemy’s camp. The Turks who witnessed this particular incident, far from being touched by any emotion of pity, rushed on to the unfortunate native, tore him from his daughter, and bound him tightly with cords. At this time Sir Samuel was in his tent, assisting some of his men to clean his rifles. Suddenly, at a distance of less than a hundred paces, he heard three shots fired. The men exclaimed, “They have shot the abid (native)!” “What native?” inquired Sir Samuel; and his men replied by narrating the story we have just recorded. Sir Samuel at first refused to believe it, but it proved to be true in every detail, even in the last; for, bound to a tree, lay the wretched father, shot dead with three balls.