Exasperated, Dick Sand had thrown himself upon the overseer.  He had ended by breaking his gun in his hands.  He had almost succeeded in snatching it from him.  But seven or eight soldiers assailed him at once, and force was used to secure him.  Furious, they would have massacred him, if one of the chiefs of the caravan, an Arab of great height and ferocious physiognomy, had not intervened.  This Arab was the chief Ibn Hamis, of whom Harris had spoken.  He pronounced a few words which Dick Sand could not understand, and the soldiers, obliged to release their prey, went away.

It was, then, very evident, for one thing, that there had been a formal order not to allow the young novice to communicate with his companions; and for another, that his life should not be taken.

Who could have given such orders, if not Harris or Negoro?

At that moment—­it was nine o’clock in the morning, April 19th—­the harsh sounds from a “condou’s” horn (a kind of ruminating animal among the African deer) burst forth, and the drum was heard.  The halt was going to end.

All, chiefs, porters, soldiers, slaves, were immediately on foot.  Laden with their packs, several groups of captives were formed under the leadership of an overseer, who unfurled a banner of bright colors.

The signal for departure was given.  Songs then rose on the air; but they were the vanquished, not the vanquishers, who sang thus.

This is what they said in these songs—­a threatening expression of a simple faith from the slaves against their oppressors—­against their executioners: 

“You have sent me to the coast, but I shall be dead; I shall have a yoke no longer, and I shall return to kill you.”

CHAPTER VIII.

SOME OF DICK SAND’S NOTES.

Though the storm of the day before had ceased, the weather was still very unsettled.  It was, besides, the period of the “masika,” the second period of the rainy season, under this zone of the African heaven.  The nights in particular would be rainy during one, two, or three weeks, which could only increase the misery of the caravan.

It set out that day in cloudy weather, and, after quitting the banks of the Coanza, made its way almost directly to the east.  Fifty soldiers marched at the head, a hundred on each of the two sides of the convoy, the rest as a rear-guard.  It would be difficult for the prisoners to flee, even if they had not been chained.  Women, children, and men were going pell-mell, and the overseers urged them on with the whip.  There were unfortunate mothers who, nursing one child, held a second by the hand that was free.  Others dragged these little beings along, without clothing, without shoes, on the sharp grasses of the soil.