The spokesman of my tribe accused the enemy of being without pluck--said that they were cowards, and would soon have their livers eaten by the invaders.

There was any amount of spear-brandishing, yelling, and gesticulating.

For these blacks apparently find it impossible to come up to actual fighting pitch without first being worked up to an extraordinary degree of excitement.
When at length the abuse had got perfectly delirious, and the first spear was about to be thrown, I dashed to the front on my stilts.

Several spears were launched at me, but my shield-bearers turned them on one side.

I then shot half-a-dozen arrows into the enemy's ranks in almost as many seconds.