Part 11

The hill was about two miles away, and by the time he reached it he was so fatigued with trudging over the shelterless plain under the fierce sun that he was glad to throw himself under a thorn-bush at the foot of the slope and rest, first signalling his intention to Ferrier. An hour after, he rose and scouted to the top of the hill, being careful not to expose himself on the skyline, and lying down to take a good look round before proceeding. The plain stretched as far as the eye could reach, slightly undulating, with patches of grass and scrub. There was no sign of the raiders, but a herd of wildebeeste were quietly grazing half-a-mile ahead, from which John concluded that no men had recently passed that way. The march therefore was resumed. Half-an-hour afterwards he caught sight of a party of natives on a hill to the right, and at once signalled to Ferrier to examine them through his field-glass. In a few minutes he saw flashes, and made out from the message that there were no Swahilis among the natives, nor did they carry loads, but appeared to be a hunting party. From Ferrier's report it did not seem that any danger would attend an advance. Accordingly the march was continued, and shortly afterwards the natives caught sight of the safari and bolted into the bush. John wondered whether they would carry news of his approach to the raiders, but soon made up his mind to the contrary, for if what had come to his ears was true, the Swahilis had established a reign of terror in the district, and the neighbouring tribes would rather avoid them. It struck him, however, that it was very necessary to be even more carefully on his guard against premature discovery by the raiders, for these would force any natives they came in contact with to join their safari and fight for them. As it was now drawing towards nightfall, and there seemed no chance of coming up with the raiders, he decided to call a halt, and, striking to the right, joined Ferrier. The men, who had marched without a murmur through the hottest hours of the day, were very glad to drop their burdens and camp. Tired though they were, they at once set about surrounding the encampment with a boma. While they were doing this, John and Ferrier, accompanied by Bill, scouted for about two miles ahead to make sure that the raiders had not encamped in the vicinity, in which case an accidental noise might betray the safari. Discovering no sign of their presence, they returned to the men. They deliberated whether it was safe to light fires, and decided not to do so, though it meant a cold and dry supper.

Before they went to sleep, Bill, who was not usually communicative, told John more completely, with Coja's aid, the story of which he had hitherto given only scattered hints. He said that they were now drawing near to his own country, which lay only four marches distant beyond the mountain. Between it and their present camp was the country of the bad men. A long time ago he had been one of a considerable tribe, who for many years had enjoyed good hunting. Large herds of elephants had infested their country, and they had slain some with their spears in open hunting, but more by snaring them in pits. The flesh they ate, the tusks they buried for fear of the Masai and the Rendili, who plundered the weaker tribes. They were waiting for the coming of a safari to which they might sell their store of ivory.

The waiting was long, but the safari came at last--a large safari, commanded by brown men, not white men like the _bwana_, nor black like the people of those parts. Coja explained that Bill referred to Arabs. One member of the safari was the very man whom he had seen among the raiders. The Wanderobbo began to bargain with the Arabs, but these, as soon as they learnt where the ivory was buried, had treacherously fallen upon the tribe, and massacred all except a few women whom they spared to make slaves of, for the transport of the treasure. Bill had escaped by shamming dead when the slaughter was going on, and, lurking in the woods, he saw his wife among the slaves whom the Arabs loaded with the ivory. He followed the safari when it marched off with the spoils, and came in its track into the country of the bad men, who secretly gathered around it, and early one morning fell upon it in a fierce assault. From the shelter of a thick tree Bill watched the fighting. The Arabs had fire-sticks, and slew many of the bad men; but after a time they ceased to make the big noises; the fire-sticks had lost their magic. Seeing this, the bad men attacked still more fiercely, and in greater numbers. A whole day the fight lasted, and did not cease until night fell. Creeping up to the Arabs' camp and climbing a tree, Bill saw them bury the ivory by the light of their fires, working hard all night, and before morning came they broke out of their camp and forced a way through the enemy. These, following their custom, waited until daylight before they pursued the Arabs; then they set off, having no fear of them now that the firesticks were silent. Bill was too frightened to follow them up, but he learnt afterwards that the bad men caught the party up in two days and slew every one, and also the Wanderobbo whom they had enslaved. It was clear, however, that one at least had escaped. Bill remained in the tree until the bad men had gone, and then slipped away and took refuge with a Masai tribe south of his old home. But a time came when disaster overtook the Masai. Disease seized upon their cattle: they roamed about and suffered heavy defeats in war: and at length Bill left them, when almost starving, and built himself the little hut in the wood where John had found him.

Now he was happy. The msungu had been his friend. He had brought him into the very country of the bad men: and when he had punished the people who had robbed him, surely he would go farther, a little farther, and recover the ivory which lay in the earth awaiting its rightful master.

"But did not the bad men take it when they had killed the Arabs?" asked John.

No: they might have sought for it, but they would never find it. They could not tell where it had been concealed, and if they had returned to the camp they would not have discovered it, for the Arabs had strewed ashes from their fires over the spot, to hide the disturbance of the earth. Bill knew where it was; he could lead the msungu straight to the spot; and the msungu who had been his friend would show his friendliness still, and would perhaps buy the treasure when it was laid bare.

"What do you think of it?" John asked Ferrier, as they talked it over together.

"It sounds like a fairy tale. You may be sure that the 'bad men' did find it. They would naturally suppose it had been buried in the camp and search for it there."

"I'm not so sure. They're not a very intelligent lot, to begin with. Imagine a crowd of chawbacons----"

"What are they?"

"Oh, I suppose you haven't got 'em in Canada--raw country yokels who haven't any ideas beyond beans and bacon. Imagine them in the same case, chasing a party for twenty miles or more and then finding that they hadn't got what they supposed they had. They wouldn't know but what the treasure had been hidden anywhere along the twenty miles run, and they'd adjourn to the nearest 'pub.'"

"You may be right, though I guess no Canadian would give it up so soon. Anyway, we can't help the old fellow, can we?"

"We've got our own job to see through first, and that will be tough enough, I expect. The beggars must have marched at a tremendous pace, and we shall be short of food soon. If we don't catch them to-morrow we shall be in a pretty bad way, for the country seems practically a wilderness. But we won't croak yet. I'll take first watch while you sleep: I'll wake you at midnight; and we'll make an early start."

The camp was astir while it was still dark, and at dawn was on its way, observing the same precautions as before; indeed, John was even more careful, for being ignorant how far ahead the raiders were, it was necessary to run no risk of approaching them too rapidly. Again the course took a north-westerly direction, but after skirting one of the larger foothills of Mount Kenya, it bore a little more to the west. Bill said that they were now marching almost straight towards his old home. After two hours they came upon the site of the raiders' last camp, and John, finding the ashes of the fires warm, though the sun had not yet broken through the morning mist, concluded that they had been raked over not more than two hours before. This caused him some little uneasiness. Though no attempt had been made hitherto to trap the pursuers, he was still alive to the possibility of such an ambush being laid: it was possible also that the raiders had left a rearguard to advance behind the main body, after they had assured themselves that there was no pursuit. These considerations led him to swerve from the direct track, and proceed through a belt of scrub half-a-mile to the right of it, Ferrier with the safari marching at the same distance still farther to the east, and only at intervals being in sight. He intended to return to the track from time to time, when a favourable opportunity occurred, to make sure that he was still proceeding in the right direction.

It was fortunate that he adopted this precaution, for the first time he struck off to the left to revisit the trail he was astonished to find, distinctly imprinted on the dewy grass, the footsteps of men going in the reverse direction. The sun being now up, he at once signalled to Ferrier to halt, and then carefully examined the new trail. It was quite fresh; the trodden grass had not had time to erect itself; and after a careful scrutiny he came to the conclusion that the marks had been made by four or five men, all wearing sandals. He suspected from this that they were some of the Swahilis of the party, and suspicion became certainty when Bill discovered a tiny strip of white cotton on a spike of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush. The conclusion was irresistible that some of the raiders had doubled on their tracks in order to watch for and perhaps ambush any pursuers.

Feeling that he must find out exactly what had happened, he began with Bill cautiously to follow up the new track, looking warily ahead, and observing with especial care the few large trees that were to be seen here and there in the distance, for any flight of birds would at once indicate the presence of men. As they walked, they found that the trail curved slightly westward, which seemed to show that it would presently join the main track which they had quitted. John moved now more cautiously than ever, for if his supposition was correct, the men would halt before they actually reached the direct course, at some spot where they could overlook it.

As they proceeded, the ground rose and the scrub became thicker. But suddenly the bushes thinned away and they saw, at the top of a long incline, a clump of trees. And then they stopped short and dropped hurriedly to the ground. Before them, on the knoll, at the foot of a tree, they had caught sight of three white-clad men looking upwards among the branches. They had rifles. Without doubt this was the spot chosen for keeping watch on the trail. Wriggling under cover, at the cost of some scratches, John and the Wanderobbo saw a fourth man perched high up in the tree below which the others stood. Had he not been intently gazing towards the main track, and his companions looking up at him, it would scarcely have been possible for John to escape discovery.

The men were speaking. At the distance John could not distinguish what they said; foreign words are always difficult to pick up when the speakers are at all remote; but from a certain impatient intonation he gathered that the men had been for some time on the watch, and were weary or disappointed at the apparent fruitlessness of it. As he lay there, his heart jumped as he thought how easy it would be to shoot the men. He could take aim at his leisure, and pick off two of them with certainty. Taken by surprise, the others would probably bolt. But it would not be playing the game; he could not bring himself to stalk them as he would stalk a wild animal, though he knew that if they spied him and got first shot they would have no compunction about shooting him. For a moment he thought of dispatching Bill to fetch Ferrier; with his aid, backed by the natives with their bows and arrows, he might capture all four, or, if they showed fight, dispose of them. But he soon gave up the idea. The men might decamp before Ferrier could arrive; they might indeed see the Wanderobbo creeping through the bush, and, the most important consideration of all, a shot would certainly give the alarm to the main body of the raiders, and that would defeat his purpose. If they took to flight he would lose his only chance of recovering his rifles and ammunition, which was his immediate object. If they hastened back at the sound of the firing, he would find himself matched against overwhelming numbers, and the result would be disaster. His only hope of success lay in a sudden unexpected blow at the main body, when his numerical inferiority would be compensated by the paralyzing effect of surprise. How this blow was to be delivered he had at present no notion; it must be left to the guidance of circumstances; but certainly its prospects would be hopelessly jeopardized if the raiders' vigilance was aroused. Patience must be his watchword.

He lay and watched the Swahilis for half-an-hour by his watch. Then, evidently tired of their fruitless errand, they started to rejoin the main body. They came down the slope, passing within a few yards of where John and the Wanderobbo were concealed; but fortunately they did not retrace their steps along the path by which they had come, but struck off towards the direct course of the main column, which they would probably intersect, as John guessed, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile. If they had returned by the same way the marks of John's boots might possibly have escaped them unless they were accustomed to tracking; but if they had caught sight of them he felt that he would have been in a dangerous predicament. At that moment John wished that he could march barefoot like the natives, but he knew that it was a vain wish.

John told Bill to creep through the scrub and follow the men up for a little way, until he was sure that they had finally left the spot. For himself, he had suddenly resolved to climb the tree as the Swahili had done, and discover what outlook could be had from it. He found that the place had been admirably chosen. From a branch thirty feet above the ground the country was visible for miles around. On the west rose the giant mist-clad form of Mount Kenya; eastward the plain extended as far as the eye could reach. South and north he could scan the country through which the raiders had passed, and westward, from the appearance of the vegetation, he inferred that a considerable stream flowed. As he watched, he saw the four Swahilis emerge from the scrub, strike the track, and hasten towards the north. There was no doubt that they had dismissed the idea of being pursued.

When Bill came back, the two set off to rejoin the safari, which they found halted by a shallow stream about two miles away. John told Ferrier what he had discovered.

"I don't think they can be more than five or six miles ahead of us," he said. "We can easily come up with them by the time they camp, or soon after, and I think we ought to strike to-night."

"Have you any idea how?"

"None whatever. All will depend on the lie of the land and the kind of camp they make. I'll send Bill on ahead to make sure they don't alter their direction, and then we'll follow up and get to them by nightfall."

"It's to be hoped they won't get warning. I've seen two or three small parties of natives to-day, and they must have seen us. I suppose they won't give any information."

"I hope not. The chief danger is that the news of our safari will spread, and the raiders learn of it by accident. I don't think the natives will rush purposely to inform them, if they're the kind of tyrants we've heard they are."

"I shall be jolly glad when we come to grips with them. This marching is rather trying, and the men are getting the dumps. They seem to have thought we should overtake the fellows in a winking, and wipe them out with magic. Coja tells me they haven't been so far away from their village before."

"How's our failed B.A.?"

"Decidedly jumpy. He said just now that he feels O.K., excluding organs of ambulation, which are quite below par, owing to filamentous condition and conspicuous absence of beefiness. He has got rather spindly calves, to be sure. By the way, an hour ago we saw two black fellows looking at us through the scrub. We gave chase, but couldn't catch them. I hope they won't bring a horde of the 'bad men' upon us."

"No, indeed. We've got our hands pretty full as it is."

Bill returned by and by with the news that the whole party of raiders had rested in the scrub some distance to the north, but had now resumed their march. John set off at once on a parallel course, and at four o'clock halted again, judging that the raiders would now have chosen the spot for their encampment. Once more he sent Bill forward to reconnoitre, and learnt from him on his return that the raiders had stopped, evidently with no intention of going farther, near a small stream. Knowing that the African native is incapable of estimating distance, John, though he was tired, determined to press on with the Wanderobbo and discover how far off the camp was. It was an hour before he came in sight of it. Some of the men were engaged in erecting a boma; a few were fishing in the stream that flowed within about a hundred yards of the camp; others were cooking a meal. The ground about the camp was for the most part open, but there were patches of scrub here and there, and one or two clumps of woodland. The camp was placed on a hillock, the base of which was washed on one side by the stream. This wound away in a north-easterly direction, and at one point was a tract of tall elephant grass, lining the banks due north of the camp and stretching for about half-a-mile to the west, where it merged in dense scrub.

Being unable to learn as much as he desired from his post of observation south of the camp, John, still accompanied by the Wanderobbo, struck off to the west, crossed the stream, which was only knee-deep but fairly swift, and making a long circuit came down upon it again through the elephant grass, at a point directly opposite the camp, and only about a hundred yards from it. The ground rose gradually from the river to the boma. From his position at the edge of the grass John could not see the gate, but guessed from the coming and going of the men that it was on the south-west side. The boma was constructed of material cut from the surrounding scrub, and was of no great strength, though sufficiently formidable to stop a rush. The fact that the men had kindled fires showed that they were not seriously apprehensive of being followed up, and this sign of security was welcome to John, as favouring his design of surprising them.

It was nearly dark when he rejoined the safari, so fatigued that Ferrier questioned the possibility of his leading an attack that night.

"Oh, I'm all right," said John. "I can rest for an hour or two. Have you got a pencil? I'll draw a sketch of the camp. Here's the stream: here's the elephant grass: what I propose is that we make our way to that and suddenly spring on them. Even disciplined troops are pretty well scarified by a night attack, and if we can only fairly surprise these beggars we ought at least to be able to get our ammunition, if not our rifles, in the confusion."

"But if they stand we shall be in a bad way."

"That's true. We can't match them in mere fighting strength. Everything depends on the completeness of the surprise, and we shall have to be very strict with our men. The slightest sound will give the alarm, and as they're not used to marching at night they are likely to be scared by anything. That's all I'm afraid of. I don't know whether we hadn't better gag them all."

Ferrier laughed.

"I don't think that would help matters," he said. "You had better explain to them what's at stake, and then take your chance."

"Well, we'll try it to-night. D'you know I begin to get a notion of what their game is. Bill says that one of them belonged to the Arabs who stole his ivory. If that's so, the fellow will know where the ivory is buried, and I fancy this is a pretty scheme to get hold of it. Ten to one it's Juma. That would explain his bagging rifles and ammunition. He wanted to get together a strong party, so that he could keep off the 'bad men' in whose country the ivory is. It will be rather a feather in our cap if we can get back our property and dish his little game too."

"Don't fly too high, old chap. We may thank our stars if we get through at all, and if you take my advice, as soon as we have secured the ammunition if we ever do, you'll make tracks for home and not go treasure-hunting. There's nobody on the farm, remember."

"Well, we'll see. First things first; I'll go and harangue the men."

CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH--Ferrier Insists

There were long faces among the men when they heard what was expected of them. Night was terrible to them. They were low-spirited, and John had to refrain from stimulating them with a full meal; there would be danger in lighting fires. But he promised them a feast when the work was done. To march silently, to keep together, to do exactly what they were told: that was the sum of his exhortation. When he left them to consider it, some grumbled, others talked of slinking away. But one reminded them that these wasungu had slain lions and rhinoceros, why should they not slay bad men too? And they kept their promises: if they said there should be a feast, a feast there would certainly be. So they took comfort, and began to talk bravely of the deeds they would do.

Before they set forth, John set Bill to gather some bundles of dry grass and press them tight. Then he asked Said Mohammed to spare him a quantity of the methylated spirit he had brought for cooking. He poured some of this into his pocket-flask from the Bengali's tin can.

"You will remain here, Said Mohammed," he said. "I shall leave five or six men who have most felt the strain of marching."

"Respectfully, sir, that is against the grain. I go where honour calls. Never say die. I gird up my loins and follow into thick of the fray."

"All right. Just as you please. Keep close to us, that's all."

"I will stick closer than a brother, sir."

Some few minutes past ten o'clock, under a sky whose blackness was scarce broken by the stars, John and the Wanderobbo led the way out of the camp, each carrying a bundle of dried grass. Immediately behind them marched Said Mohammed, then Coja and the rest of the men in single file, Ferrier bringing up the rear. They moved silently, and the half-dozen men left behind in the camp, peering out through the boma, neither saw nor heard them when the last man was a dozen yards away.

John did not try to find the track of his former journey. It was too dark to see it. Bill might have discovered it by his wonderfully keen sense of touch, but there was no need. All they had to do was to march due west until they struck the stream; then to hug its bank until they arrived at the elephant grass.