line. With one mighty roar of
savage triumph the ferocious Arabs, hitherto concealed behind the
advancing slaves, surged over the prostrate heaps, and were up to the
breastwork in a moment. The stratagem of Mushad had been a complete
success. The defenders, thus surprised, were simply allowed no time.
Several of the Arabs fell before their hurried fire, but not for a
second did it delay the fierce, rapid, overwhelming rush. With whirling
scimitars the savage Arabs were upon them, hacking, hewing, yelling.
The native bearers, in wild panic, threw down their arms and fled out at
the other side of the defences, only to be met by the spears of the
black auxiliaries waiting there for just such a move, and cut to pieces
to a man. The improvised fort was choked with corpses, the frenzied
slayers hewing still at the quivering frames, and screaming aloud in a
very transport of blood-intoxication.

Back to back in a ring, the three white men and Somala, with his two
remaining clansmen, stood. But where was Kumbelwa? Not with them, but
yet not far away. And around him, like hounds around a buffalo bull at
bay, his swarming enemies, leaping, snarling, yet not able to reach him
for the terrific sweeps with that dread weapon, shearing a clear space
on every hand.

"Yield thee, thou great fighter!" cried Mushad, in a dialect very much
akin to his own. "Yield thee. Thou at any rate shalt taste our mercy,
and shalt fight with us."

"_Au_! I yield not. Come, fight with me, O chief! we two alone. Thou
wilt not? See, I come to seek thee--_Usutu 'Sutu_!"

And in lightning-like charge, the splendid warrior dashed through the
swarming crowd, straight for Mushad, clearing his way with his broad
blade and resistless rush, his great shield throwing off the blows aimed
at him, like the cutwater of a mighty ship ploughing through the waves.
The crowd closed behind him, and that was the last of him his white
leaders beheld.

As for these, their doom was inevitable. Their enemies could shoot them
down with ease at any moment, but refrained. It was clearly their
intention to take them alive.

"The last shot for ourselves, remember," said Haviland, in his voice the
hard, set tone of a brave man who has done with hope. "Remember that
brute's promise if we are captured. And he'll keep it too."

"I've got three left, and here goes one," said Oakley, discharging his
revolver at a prominent Arab. The latter spun round and fell.