ch other," jeer
the savage Wangoni, as these are driven forth. "_Whau!_ Ye shall keep
each other in meat on the way. Ha, ha! For in truth ye are as fat oxen
to each other," pointing with their broad spears to the gruesome trees
and crossbeam--the scene of the hideous cannibal slaughter. For the
Wangoni, by virtue of their Zulu origin, hold cannibalism in the deepest
horror and aversion.

These barbarians now, humming a bass war-song as they march, are in high
glee, for there are more villages to raid. And as the whole party moves
forth from the glade once more to plunge within the forest gloom, the
air is alive with the circling of carrion birds; and the newly risen sun
darts his first arrowy beam upon the scene of horror, lighting up the
red gore and the slain corpses, and the ghastly staring heads upon the
gateway. Even as his last ray fell upon a tragedy of blood and of
cruelty so now does his first, for in truth this is one of the "dark
places of the earth."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MAN HUNTERS.

For some three hours the party moves forward through the forest shades.
Then a halt is called, and, sentinels having been posted, soon the smoke
of bivouac fires ascends, and the clatter of cooking utensils mingles
with the hum of many voices.

The place selected is an open glade or clearing, overhung on one side by
hoary masses of rock. The slave-hunters, as we have said, are divided
into two sections, one consisting of negroid Arabs and Wa-Swahili,
believers in the Prophet mostly, and clad in array once gaudy but now
soiled and tarnished, some few, however, wearing the white haik and
burnous; the other of Wangoni, stalwart, martial savages, believers in
nothing and clad in not much more. These form camps apart, for at heart
each section despises the other, though for purposes of self-interest
temporarily welded. A few, but very few, are Arabs of pure blood.

One of these is now engaged in converse with the leader of the party. He
is a tall, dignified, keen-faced man, with eyes as piercing as those of
a hawk, and his speech is sparing. But if his words are few his deeds
are many, and the name of Lutali--which, however, he makes no secret is
not his real name--is known and feared at least as far and as
thoroughly as that of the chief of the slavers himself.

For the latter, one glance at him is sufficient to show that if ever man
was born to rule with firm but judicious hand such a gang of
bloodthirsty freeboote