All along the route I was struck with the apparent haste with which the people were gathering in the corn. Our companions told us that the Seriki (King) of Kontogora was preparing to wage war on the white man, and had ordered his people to get in all their corn at once. The day before we entered Kontogora we were overtaken by a raiding party, who were returning to that place with their spoil--about twenty young girls and women, as well as several little children--all tied together, each having one wrist made fast to the neck, across the chest. Their captors were Fulehs and Haussas, on horseback, armed with swords and spears, and one or two with guns. Some of the poor captives looked terribly emaciated, and could hardly get along. I saw one woman get a slash of a hippo hide whip across the face, that sent her reeling to the ground, with a great gash on her forehead. The incident stopped the whole column for a few minutes, as the woman was fastened to her fellow-prisoners by the neck, and, when she fell, prevented them from advancing. The whip was then applied freely in all directions. The chief of the band ordered the wounded woman’s squirming comrades to pick her up and carry her, but they were unable to do so, being too utterly worn out, I could see. They were coated in dust from head to foot, and the perspiration trickling down their naked skins and mingling with the dust made the poor things appear a sorry sight. The band had, apparently, captured them at some far-distant spot, and must have brought them along at a great pace, judging by the rate they were going when they overtook us. Furious at their inability to pick the woman up, the ruffian in command raised his spear and plunged it three times into the body of the prostrate woman. He followed this up by actually trampling her under his horse’s feet, while I groaned in an agony of horror and impotent rage at the ghastly spectacle. The brute, having satisfied himself that his victim was dead, cut the grass rope that bound her to her fellows with a slash of his sword, and ordered the party to proceed. They left us at a quick walk--some of the poor captives even running in their terror--and were soon out of sight over a rise in the ground. Our party followed at a slower pace in dead silence, leaving the poor mangled thing by the roadside to provide a meal for the vultures and hyenas that would soon be on the scene. I for one, however, realized then that no wild beast of the desert could compare for utter brutality and lust for blood with the human satyrs who overran that land at the time of which I write. For miles around, between Kontogora and the Niger, and farther afield to the north, south, and east, the smoking ruins of raided villages told the ever-repeated tale of death and violence, robbery and rapine, and I knew full well what would happen to me should my disguise, by any mischance, be penetrated.