Chapter 8

“I shall want you,” said Sanders; “there’s a dust-up in the Ochori country.” The officer raised his eyebrows. He was a young man on the cynical side of twenty-five. “Not the gentle Bosambo,” he protested ironically; “not that mirror of chivalry?” “Don’t be comic, my man,” snarled Sanders. “The Ochori are up, and there is a lady missionary somewhere on the border.” The Houssa captain sprang to his feet. “Bless the woman, I forgot her!” he said in a worried tone. He took a whistle from his breast pocket and blew it, …