Here and there bones of dead bodies strewed the ground; remains of skeletons, half gnawed by animals, some of which still bore the slave's fetters.
There are, in Central Africa, long roads thus marked out by human debris.

Hundreds of miles are traversed by caravans, and how many unhappy wretches fall by the way, under the agents' whips, killed by fatigue or privations, decimated by sickness! How many more massacred by the traders themselves, when food fails! Yes, when they can no longer feed them, they kill them with the gun, with the sword, with the knife! These massacres are not rare.
So, then, caravans of slaves had followed this road.

For a mile Dick Sand and his companions struck against these scattered bones at each step, putting to flight enormous fern-owls.

Those owls rose at their approach, with a heavy flight, and turned round in the air.
Mrs.Weldon looked without seeing.

Dick Sand trembled lest she should question him, for he hoped to lead her back to the coast without telling her that Harris's treachery had led them astray in an African province.