But between the spears of the infuriated savages on the one hand and the devouring fire on the other what escape was there for them?
The blood-stained wretches who remained in the camps and towns of the slave-traders, along the eastern coast of Africa, or in the Isle of Madagascar, alone could tell how many were lost, since of those who went out from them to make war upon the Mazitu and their white friends, none returned again with the long lines of expected captives.

They had gone to their own place, of which sometimes that flaming African city has seemed to me a symbol.

They were wicked men indeed, devils stalking the earth in human form, without pity, without shame.

Yet I could not help feeling sorry for them at the last, for truly their end was awful.
They brought the prisoners up to us, and among them, his white robe half-burnt off him, I recognised the hideous pock-marked Hassan-ben-Mohammed.
"I received your letter, written a while ago, in which you promised to make us die by fire, and, this morning, I received your message, Hassan," I said, "brought by the wounded lad who escaped from you when you murdered his companions, and to both I sent you an answer.

If none reached you, look around, for there is one written large in a tongue that all can read." The monster, for he was no less, flung himself upon the ground, praying for mercy.