Leaving Richarn with orders not to move from his post, but to keep a
good look-out until relieved by the next watch, I again went to sleep.
Before break of day, just as the grey dawn slightly improved the
darkness, I visited the sentry; he was at his post, and reported that he
thought the archer of the preceding night was dead, as he had heard a
sound proceeding from the dark object on the ground after I had left. In
a few minutes it was sufficiently light to distinguish the body of a
roan lying about thirty paces from the camp entrance. Upon examination,
he proved to be a Bari: his bow was in his hand, and two or three arrows
were lying by his side; thirteen mould shot had struck him dead; one had
cut through the bow. We now searched the camp for arrows, and as it
became light we picked up four in various places, some within a few feet
of our beds, and all horribly barbed and poisoned, that the deceased had
shot into the camp gateway.
This was the last attack during our journey. We marched well, generally
accomplishing fifteen miles of latitude daily from this point, as the
road was good and well known to our guides. The country was generally
poor, but beautifully diversified with large trees, the tamarind
predominating. Passing through the small but thickly-populated and
friendly little province of Moir, in a few days we sighted the
well-known mountain Belignan, that we had formerly passed on its eastern
side when we had started on our uncertain path from Gondokoro upwards of
two years ago.
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