The attack was a fiasco, the fighting was all over in ten minutes.

A hundred years ago the men of Bekwando, who went naked and knew no drink more subtle than palm wine had one virtue--bravery.

But civilisation pressing upon their frontiers had brought Oom Sam greedy for ivory and gold, and Oom Sam had bought rum and strong waters.

The nerve of the savage had gone, and his muscle had become a flaccid thing.

When they had risen from the long grass with a horrid yell and had rushed in upon the hated intruders with couched spears only to be met by a blinding fire of Lee-Metford and revolver bullets their bravery vanished like breath from the face of a looking-glass.