Closer to civilization than most native tribes, by reason of the British development of Kenya Colony, yet the Kikuyus still cling to customs. In nothing is this more apparent than in their methods of and in the instruments employed.  
Instead of paying many head of cattle to traders for the trade guns to many tribes, they continue to use bows and arrows and spears, both for making war and for hunting.
 
So now as the boys along at the tail end of the charging of Chief Ruku-Ru, automatics in hand, they realized that if it came to close quarters with the enemy they would be of material assistance to their hosts by reason of the superiority of their weapons. For the enemy were Kikuyus, too, although of another , this big race being in thirteen loosely-organized over a wide territory. And the raiders would be no differently armed than their hosts.
 
Down the hill, through a cover of woods, and into the village dashed Chief Ruku-Ru and his warriors, the boys at the rear but holding their own.
 
Loud cries from the foremost sounded warning that the enemy was still on the ground. At once the blacks ahead of them leaped to take cover behind the nearest huts, and began creeping forward from hut to hut, and running close to the ground in covering open spaces.
 
The boys were not slow to follow this example, the wisdom of which became apparent when arrows began whizzing overhead, burying themselves in the thatched roofs of the huts or with a dull thudding sound against the mud walls.
 
Sticking closely together, the three boys with Wimba, Matse and a number of bearers at their heels, took shelter behind one of the largest huts of the village as the rain of arrows increased.
 
So loud and close at hand now were the shouts that it was clear the enemy had been surprised by Chief Ruku-Ru before they could run away with their prisoners and loot. From the sounds, the hottest part of the fighting was not far away. In fact, Bob, who had leaned the tripod and film camera against the mud wall of the hut behind which they were momentarily sheltered, and had advanced to the nearest corner past which swept a perfect storm of arrows, returned with the report that in his opinion the main fight was being waged on the other side of the hut.
 
“And no wonder,” said “Don’t you fellows recognize this hut? Well, I can’t blame you, for you’re seeing it for the first time from the rear. But this is Chief Ruku-Ru’s palace, I’m sure. Look. You can see the tip of a tree on the other side from here. There’s only one tree large enough to be seen like that, and that’s the council tree. Yes sir, fellows, this is the Chief’s palace.”
 
“Probably surprised the raiders looting it,” asserted Frank.
 
“May be so,” said Bob. “The chief has forty wives, you know. And these raiders came to carry the women away as captives. Women do the work amongst the Kikuyus, and they’re pretty valuable critters.”
 
“Listen to that,” interrupted Jack, as louder shouts gave warning of more intense fighting. “And, by George,” he added, in high excitement, clutching Bob by an arm, “look there. Those are some of Chief Ruku-Ru’s men, aren’t they?”
 
He to several figures, crossing the open space by the side of the “palace,” speeding back toward the rear.
 
“Running away,” said Bob. “They’re getting the worst of it.”
 
He stepped back, gazing upward.
 
“I can do it,” he cried. “Give me a hand, Jack. Cup your hands for a leg up.”
 
“Do what?”
 
“Scale that wall,” cried Bob. “Mud wall’s about eight feet high. We can over it, drop into the chief’s courtyard, and then from behind the wall on the other side we can attack the enemy in the rear. Come on.”
 
“Right,” said Jack, putting his back against the wall and cupping his hands.
 
Without more words. Bob set a foot therein and springing gripped the top of the wall and pulled himself up. Then, facing about, he lay down, with his arms hanging. And Jack, leaping upward, seized his wrists and was pulled to position beside him.
 
“All right, Frank,” cried Bob.
 
“Take this camera first,” Frank answered. “If you fellows are going to take potshots at the enemy from the chief’s domicile, I want some pictures of it.”
 
“Hurry, then,” cried Bob, impatiently. And Frank obediently aloft the camera on its long tripod, which was seized and whisked to position over the wall. Frank was boosted up by Wimba and hauled to position beside his comrades.
 
“Me come, too, baas,” pleaded the faithful fellow.
 
So Wimba, although without firearms to render him a useful ally, likewise was hoisted to the wall.
 
Then all four leaped down into the courtyard, where ordinarily Chief Ruku-Ru stabled his milch cows. But now the courtyard, deep in dung, was . The raiders already had driven off the animals.
 
In one corner of the yard lay two guards outstretched in the sun. The boys shivered.
 
“Killed,” said Bob, his teeth. “Well, these need a lesson. Come on.”
 
Yells from the other side of the opposite mud wall them their was correct. The fight was raging there, and with fierceness. But Chief Ruku-Ru’s forces were getting the worst of it. The raiders were too many for them.
 
Bob leaped to the low roof of a cow shed built against the wall, which overtopped it by two or three feet. Crouching behind this , he peered out. He found he faced the great village square. The two forces were fighting at close quarters. The air was filled with arrows. Here and there lay fallen warriors, never to move again, while others were dragging themselves away with ghastly wounds upon them.
 
It was easy to distinguish between the two forces. Easy for one thing, if for no other. Not because of the fact that one side had cattle and women indiscriminately into one corner of the square at its back. That the enemy host, right enough. But a clearer indication was afforded by the two leaders.
 
Chief Ruku-Ru, strongly built, a fighter, had thrown aside shield, spear, bow, and armed only with a wicked knife was engaged in hand to hand combat with a gigantic negro similarly accoutred who wore in addition a tuft of golden eagle feathers in his hair.
 
These were the respective chieftains, and their fighting men stood back to permit them free play. In fact, in the vicinity of the two warriors, all other fighting had died away.
 
The boys were that Chief Ruku-Ru’s opponent was known as the Bone Crusher, and that his fame as a terrible fighter was widespread amongst all the Kikuyu clans. But that this individual combat had all others for the moment was apparent. Not only those warriors in their vicinity had ceased fighting, as if by common consent, but over the whole square in a trice spread a that reached to the farthest combatants. The shouts of the fighters, the of the captive women, died away. Only the panting of the two gladiators could be heard.
 
Jack and Frank had clambered into position beside Bob, with Wimba close at Frank’s heels. Frank, moreover, as soon as he saw what was going on had set up the camera and already was busy grinding away as if with no thought except to obtain a motion picture of that contest.
 
“Like something out of the old tales of Homer,” whispered Jack.
 
Bob nodded, half absently. He was too busy watching that strange contest to waste time drawing comparisons with the past. Biggest of the boys, a youth of gigantic frame although still only in his teens. Bob was one of the cleverest amateur and wrestlers in America. Moreover, although not exactly of spirit, yet he did and openly, as he was to express it, “love a good fight.”
 
And a good fight he was now.
 
Crouching, wicked knives clasped in their right hands, left arms advanced with the long cotton garments their chiefhood ripped from their shoulders and wrapped about the forearm as guard, the two warriors circled each other, looking for an opening. What Chief Ruku-Ru lacked in height and weight by comparison with his huger opponent, he made up in superior speed and . The muscles of his back and could be seen beneath the ebon skin of his naked body as he leaped this way and that.
 
That his blows did not all miss soon became apparent as first one and then another long rip appeared on the black skin of the Bone Crusher. The latter, on the other hand, try as he would, could not get past Chief Ruku-Ru’s guard. His knife struck and struck again, but always as if by a miracle Chief Ruku-Ru’s padded forearm off the blow at the last second of time.
 
Suddenly, the Bone Crusher, rendered desperate by his foe’s superiority with the knife, into insensate fury by the repeated to which he was subjected, tossed his knife high into the air and with a vast leaped upon Chief Ruku-Ru. But he was , this Bone Crusher, and even as he sprang he flung the flowing cotton garment hanging from his left arm over the other’s head.
 
Thus confused and blinded, Chief Ruku-Ru out wildly with his knife, but without being able to see to direct his blows.
 
Wrapping his long arms about the other’s waist, the Bone Crusher whirled him aloft and sent him spinning like a giant top into the midst of Chief Ruku-Ru palsied .
 
But he was not left long to enjoy his victory. Before his forces could renew the combat, before the stricken followers of Chief Ruku-Ru could turn and flee, a new assailant appeared.
 
He was none other than Bob. Leaping down from the mud wall before Jack and Frank could move to restrain him, big Bob launched himself like a thunderbolt at the Bone Crusher.
 
A shout of warning from his henchmen at his back caused the gigantic black to face about. But before he could put up any . Bob shot forward as if for a low football tackle. Many a time on the field he had in just such fashion at the legs of an opposing player. But this time his intention was not merely to bring his man down.
 
His hands closed about the ankles of the Bone Crusher, and then he straightened up with startling swiftness. And for all his bulk, the Bone Crusher went hurtling through the air, over Bob’s shoulders, to fall, not amongst his own followers, but into the ranks of the enemy.
 
Had he fallen on his head, his neck might have snapped. For never had Bob put into that particular hold the viciousness he had employed now.
 
But in falling the Bone Crusher brushed against a . His course was . And instead of alighting on his head and shoulders, he fell on his side.
 
With a catlike not to be expected in a man so huge, he bounded up from the earth with an ear-splitting roar of rage, and ran at the mouth toward Bob. Just what he intended will never be known.
 
Bob saw him coming and set himself. As the Bone Crusher lunged forward. Bob sidestepped and launched a triphammer blow with his right fist. It caught the Bone Crusher behind the point of the with a thud that sounded like a dull explosion, and the huge Negro chieftain as if a mountain had fallen upon him. His great body jerked once or twice then lay still.