alisade outside. Every fifth
man was to stand watch while the others slept. As soon as the sun
appeared in the east, over the tops of the trees, the horns of Kisesa
were heard, calling us all to be ready; and at the same time the drums
of Mostana were heard. I had been sleeping soundly, and I now looked in
between the posts of the palisade to see what kind of a place we were
about to attack. It was a large village, circular, like all in Urori,
but the palisades were strong, and but lately put up. There were scores
of huts inside, but what struck me as something very uncommon in Urori
was an inner enclosure (like, that in the King's village at Unyanyembe),
which surrounded Mostana's quarters, so that he could from the inside
hold out as long as we could outside if we were not more numerous or
better armed than he.

"We were not long before we were at it like lions, shooting into one
another's faces, or as near them as the defences would permit. It was
evident that Mostana was getting the worst of the fight, for we were far
more numerous and had better guns, and farther apart from each other,
while Mostana's people were crowded together, and every bullet that went
in through the palisade wounded or killed some one, and the cries of the
women and groans of the wounded were frightful.

"After shooting at each other for an hour Kisesa gave notice to have the
two gates opened, and into these we poured in crowds, and as fast as we
got in we took advantage of the huts that were outside the king's
quarters. Then, working ourselves gradually, shooting as we went, we
sprang at the other palisade, and putting our guns through, fired into
the crowds. I assure you the scene was horrible; the people dropped to
the ground as fast as we could count them, so that in a short time the
few that were left began to cry for mercy, shouting `Aman! Aman!' The
gates of the inner defences, or the King's quarters, were broken open at
once, and Kisesa's men bounded in, making such noise that might be heard
a day's march from the village. They fired their guns, they hooted,
they shouted, they sang. Were they not victors? I was carried in with
the crowd which poured in towards the King's house. Old Mostana--he was
not very old either--was fighting to the last, firing his arrows so fast
into the crowd that many of Kisesa's men, even while they were singing
the songs of victory, fell dead, pierced to the marrow with the deadly
arrows whic