at the sight of which all the heroic squadrons of Bornou and Mandara put spurs to their steeds, the sultan at their head, and the whole became one mass of confused and tumultuous flight.  Major Denham saw too late the peril into which he had inconsiderately plunged.  His horse, wounded in to the shoulder, could scarcely support his weight, but the cries of the pursuing Fellatas urged him forward.  At last the animal fell twice, and the second time threw him against a tree, then, frightened by the noise behind, started up and ran off.  The Fellatas were instantly up, when four of his companions were stabbed beside him, uttering the most frightful cries.  He himself fully expected the same fate, but happily his clothes formed a valuable booty, through which the savages were loath to run their spears.  After inflicting some slight wounds, therefore, they stripped him to the skin, and forthwith began to quarrel about the plunder.  While they were thus busied, he contrived to slip away, and though hotly pursued, and nearly overtaken, succeeded in reaching a mountain stream, gliding at the bottom of a deep and precipitous ravine.  Here he had snatched the young branches issuing from the stump of a large over-hanging tree, in order to let himself down into the water, when beneath his hand, a large siffa, the most dangerous serpent in this country, rose from its coil, as in the very act of darting upon him.  Struck with horror, Major Denham lost all recollection, and fell headlong into the water, but the shock revived him, and with three strokes of his arm, he reached the opposite bank, and felt himself for the moment in safety.  Running forward, he was delighted to see his friends Barca Gana and Boo Khaloom, but amidst the cheers with which they were endeavouring to rally their troops, and the cries of those who were falling under the Fellata spears, he could not for some time make himself heard.  Then Maramy, a negro appointed by the sheik to attend upon him, rode up and took him on his own horse.  Boo Khaloom ordered a bornouse to be thrown over the major—­very seasonably, for the burning sun had began to blister his naked body.  Suddenly, however, Maramy called out, “See! see!  Boo Khaloom is dead,” and that spirited chief, overpowered by the wound of a poisoned arrow, dropped from his horse and spoke no more.  The others now only thought of pressing their flight, and soon reached a stream, where they refreshed themselves by copious draughts, and a halt was made to collect the stragglers.  Major Denham here fell into a swoon, during which, as he afterwards learned, Maramy complained that the jaded horse could scarcely carry the stranger forward, when Barca Gana said, “By the head of the prophet! believers enough have breathed their last to-day, why should we concern ourselves about a Christian’s death.”  Malem Chadily, however, so bitter as a theological opponent, showed now the influence of a milder spirit, and said, “No, God has preserved him; let us not abandon him;” and Maramy declared, his heart told him what to do.  They therefore moved on slowly till about midnight, when they passed the Mandara frontier, in a state of severe suffering, but the major met with much kindness from a dethroned prince, Mai Meagamy, who seeing his wounds festering under the rough woollen cloak, which formed his only covering, took off his own trousers and gave them to him.