How many
there were we could not tell, but later on we learnt that some of
them had been killed, and seeing the flash of the rifles, which was
a new experience to them, the rest had retreated for the time being,
but soon rallied together for attack that night or in the small hours
of the morning. Knowing that if they once rushed us in the darkness
we should all be doomed for their cooking pots, the state of our
feelings can be imagined.
The first attempt came rather as a shock to a peaceful novice like
myself, and seeing warriors in full war paint and feathers rushing
about with uplifted club and spear amid our prostrate squirming
carriers, I had a very strong inclination to bury myself in the nearest
hut and softly hum the lines, "I care not for wars and quarrels,"
etc. We sat talking in subdued tones for some time, expecting every
minute to hear the thrilling war cry of the Doboduras, but nothing was
to be heard but the crackling of the embers of the burning houses,
the low murmur of our people around their camp fire, and the most
dismal falsetto howls of the native dogs in the distance. These howls
were not particularly exhilarating at such a time, and I more than
once mistook them for the distant war-cry of the Doboduras.
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