But louder than the noise of the falls rose the piercing yells of the savage Mwana Ntaba from both sides of the great river. We now found ourselves confronted by the inevitable necessity of putting into practice the resolution which we had formed before setting out on the wild voyage—to conquer or die. What should we do? Shall we turn and face the fierce cannibals, who with hideous noise drown the solemn roar of the cataract, or shall we cry out “Mambu Kwa Mungu”—“Our fate is in the hands of God”—and risk the cataract with its terrors! Meanwhile, we are sliding smoothly to our destruction, and a decision must therefore be arrived at instantly. God knows, I and my fellows would rather have it not to do, because possibly it is only a choice of deaths, by cruel knives or drowning. If we do not choose the knives, which are already sharpened for our throats, death by drowning is certain. So finding ourselves face to face with the inevitable, we turn to the right bank upon the savages, who are in the woods and on the water. We drop our anchors and begin the fight, but after fifteen minutes of it find that we cannot force them away. We then pull up anchors and ascend stream again, until, arriving at the elbow above mentioned, we strike across the river and divide our forces. Manwa Sera is to take four canoes and to continue up stream a little distance, and, while we occupy the attention of the savages in front, is to lead his men through the woods and set upon them in rear. At 5.30 P.M. we make the attempt, and keep them in play for a few minutes, and on hearing a shot in the woods dash at the shore, and under a shower of spears and arrows effect a landing. From tree to tree the fight is continued until sunset, when, having finally driven the enemy off, we have earned peace for the night. Until about 10 P.M. we are busy constructing an impenetrable stockade or boma of brushwood, and then at length, we lay our sorely fatigued bodies down to rest, without comforts of any kind and without fires, but (I speak for myself only) with a feeling of gratitude to Him who had watched over us in our trouble, and a humble prayer that His protection may be extended to us, for the terrible days that may yet be to come. CHAPTER VIII. Fighting betimes—Blazing a path—We take an island by storm—A desperate dilemma—Road-making under fire—A miraculous escape—A terrible march—Peace by stratagem—Below the Fifth Cataract—Our cannibal captives—Fighting the Wana-Rukura—The Wana-Rukura islanders—Approaching the Seventh Cataract—A deserted island—The Seventh Cataract of the Stanley Falls—The first of the cataracts—Clear of the Stanley Falls. _Jan. 5._—At 4 A.M. of the 5th of January we were awake, cooking betimes the food that was to strengthen us for the task that lay before us, while the screaming lemur and the soko still alarmed the dark forest with their weird cries.