Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 5, 2025
Leaving the conflagration to take its course every available man hastened to the palisade. Rapid independent fire delayed but failed to check the charge of ferocious, wildly shouting Askaris, whose courage had been worked up by promises of rewards if successful, and dire punishment in the event of failure.
His gray skin, because of its lack of pigmentation, was splotched with eczema; his wool was a dirty, yellowish white; his features were permanently distorted because of his lifelong efforts to keep the light from paining his pink eyes. The askaris threw this monstrosity upon his face before Lilla's chair. He lay moaning and feebly moving his hands, as if he were caressing the earth.
The rest of the party, including Wilmshurst, had hurried off to reinforce the sorely-tried men engaged hand to hand with the Askaris in the breach. Of the three only the corporal knew much about the internal mechanism of a German machine-gun, and in the ruddy, flickering light his task was greatly complicated. Again the weapon was hoisted on the Haussa's broad shoulders.
Once well beyond the chance of a fire glimmer he arose to his feet and quickly regained his own camp. This was exactly on the opposite side of the circle. The four men with whom he shared his tiny cotton tent, askaris all as beseemed his dignity, were sound asleep. He squatted on his heels, pushed together the embers of his fire, staring into the coals.
She saw one of the leading askaris kneel down and stretch himself upon his face, as if trying to press against the ground a thin shaft that seemed to be lying crosswise under his chest. Then she heard an explosion, and perceived a film of smoke full of horizontal gleams the blades of flying spears. She had a fleeting impression of Hamoud, his arm outstretched, his hand spitting fire.
Until it was quite dark the Haussas toiled, building sangars and constructing light connecting trenches with abattis of sharp thorns sufficient to deter and hold up a rush of bare-footed Askaris, since there was no knowing that after all the enemy had been informed of the presence of the pursuing column.
Even in the rush of events he, characteristically, found time for comments, although they did not in the least interfere with his rapid movements. "Hope they don't wing one another," he remarked of the askaris' volley. "Rotten shooting! rotten!" as the Nubian stood his ground. At the same time he pushed forward the safety catch and threw the heavy rifle to his shoulder.
The captive Askaris were subjected to a strict examination, with the result that it was discovered that Robert MacGregor was really a German, and a person of some official capacity, since he was on friendly terms with the Hun commandant, while an Askari sergeant gave the traitor's name with great distinctness, Ulrich von Gobendorff, adding that the German used to have charge of a fortified post at Twashi in the Narewenda Hills.
The pole and the canopy of the hammock tangled inextricably its occupant. A ragged volley from the muskets of the askaris merely seemed to add to the confusion. With great coolness the Nubian discharged first one barrel then the other of the heavy rifle he carried. The recoil, catching him in a bad posture, knocked him backward.
The four askaris, big men too, with masterful high-cheekboned countenances, rushed here and there seeing that the orders were carried out. Expostulations, laughter, the sound of quarrelling rose and fell. Never could the combined volume of it all override the firecracker stream of M'ganga's eloquence. We had nothing to do with it all, but stood a little dazed, staring at the novel scene.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking