Giovanni Severi's adventures, between his supposed death in the massacre of the expedition and his unexpected reappearance at Massowah nearly five years later, would fill an interesting little volume in themselves; but inasmuch as an account of them would not make this story clearer and would occupy much space, it is enough to state the bare facts in a few words.

Such tales of danger, suffering, and endurance have often been told at first hand, by the heroes of them, far more vividly and correctly than a mere story-teller can narrate them on hearsay.
The expedition had been attacked and destroyed by a handful of natives from a wandering tribe that was camping very near.

Within a few minutes their chief was informed of what they had done, and he rode out to the spot with a large body of men at his heels.

Among the dead, Giovanni Severi lay bleeding from a gash in the head, but not mortally hurt.

The chief was by no means a mere dull savage, and finding an Italian officer alive, he recognised at once that it would be a mistake to knock him on the head and leave him with his comrades to be disposed of by the vultures and hyaenas.