Part 12

It was slow work, and not without its anxieties for the white men. Every now and then John heard a gulping sound behind, and knew that some one was afraid. Once or twice he halted. The men's hard breathing spoke of terror rather than effort. At such times he passed down the line, speaking quietly to reassure them; then, returning to the head, he bent to the ground and struck a match under his hat, to check the course by his pocket-compass, and went on again. Once there was a rustling sound upon the left hand, and the scared negroes made clicks with their mouths, and some would have run had not John, in a fierce whisper, called to them to stand, and asked whether they feared an antelope.

They came at length to the stream, the gurgle of its waters making a pleasant music in John's ears. Half the journey was done. So that he might not come to the stream near the enemy's camp he had directed his course somewhat south of his former line; and it was a long march up-stream before they came to the elephant grass. John avoided the brink, for fear of lurking crocodiles. Once he almost stumbled upon a hippopotamus asleep in the sedge, and thought it lucky he was at the head of his men, whom the snort of the beast, as it rose and shambled away into the darkness, might have infected with panic. He heaved a sigh of relief as he came at last to the tall, thick grass standing high above his head. Halting, he passed word down the line to tread even more cautiously and in even deeper silence, trusting that the rustling which could scarcely be avoided would, if heard in the camp, seem to the enemy only the sound of animals moving in the grass. Then he went on again.

Peering out through the screen, he presently saw a dull glow some distance to the right. There lay the camp; within the boma fires were burning. Once more the party halted, and John, moving stealthily, sought Ferrier to consult with him.

"I'm going to set fire to the boma," he said in a whisper. "When you see the flames, fire off all your rifles and lead the men at a rush for the camp. They can shout then like the army of Gideon. We're north-west of it; they'll be startled out of their sleep, and rush for the gate on the south-west; at least I hope so."

"You'd better let me fire the boma, John. You'll lead the men better than I should; they know you best. Besides, it's my turn."

"Rubbish!" said John. "I've been here before."

"But I can't miss the boma if I go straight ahead. I insist on it, old chap; I'm sure it will be best. Hand over your grass and the spirit; I've got matches."

"Your arm's not thoroughly sound yet."

"All the more reason. It doesn't require much muscle to strike a match. Come on; it must be past midnight; there's no time to lose."

John gave him the materials somewhat reluctantly. Ferrier pressed his hand and slid away into the darkness. Time passed very slowly. The men grew fidgety; John heard the strange gulping in their throats, and the little noises they made as they moved worried him, lest they were heard in the camp. True, there were other sounds: the hum of insects, a lion's roar in the distance, the laughing bark of a hyena; but these were momentary, not continuous like the rustling of the grass, which there was no breeze to account for. As minute after minute passed, and there was still no sign, John grew more and more anxious. The boma was less than two hundred yards distant. He durst not strike a light to look at his watch, but surely there had been time to go and come and go again. What was happening?

Ferrier, stealing across the ground with no more sound than a snake might have made, guided always by the faint glow from the fires, had covered, as he guessed, two-thirds of the distance when he thought it prudent to drop upon hands and knees, lest, upright, his form should be descried by some keen-sighted sentry. He had crawled thus some twenty yards further when suddenly he saw dimly before him a something, like an irregular hedge, no more than four feet high, stretching athwart his path. Was this the boma? Surely it bespoke unusual security in the enemy if they had contented themselves with so low a defence. Their bomas were commonly six feet high or more. He crept on more stealthily until he touched the obstruction: it was a thorny hedge. He tried to peer through it, expecting to see the camp-fires; but he looked into blackness, save for the dull red glow in the sky. Was it possible that the enemy were not so confident after all, but had erected a double barrier? Or was the hedge natural?

He crawled to the left. The hedge had a regular curve. It must have been placed by men. Raising himself gradually to his feet until his eyes were just level with the top, he looked over. Yes; there was the true boma, a dark mass thirty feet away. Through its interstices he saw streaks of dim light from the fires burning within. To set fire to the outer hedge would be useless; within the boma the enemy would be still secure, and the conflagration would but give them light to take aim at their assailants. He must cross the hedge.

But how? By a flying leap? This would expose him to the view of any one on watch, for though the night was dark, it was not so black but that a moving object could be seen. By clambering over? This would be attended by the same risk and by others. He might indeed scramble over at the expense of torn hands and clothing, though there was the danger of being held fast by the tenacious wait-a-bit thorns of which the obstacle was made. But his movements must cause such a crackling and creaking of the interlaced branches as could not fail to alarm any one who chanced to be awake in the camp, no matter at what part of it. Leaping and climbing being equally out of the question, what course remained?

Ferrier was not for nothing the grandson of a man who had roughed it in the backwoods of Canada. If acquired qualities are not inherited, the stock of which he came must have been sturdy and dogged in grain. At any rate, Charles was not the man to be baulked. Dropping on his knees again, he dug his fingers into the soil beneath the hedge. It was gravel, like the ground he had crossed in coming from the river. Very carefully he began to scrape out a hole, intending to persevere until it was large enough for him to squeeze his body through. He soon found that the task was not to be easy. The soil was so light and mobile that, as he scraped, it tended to slip at the sides and fill up the hole he was so laboriously excavating. Further, he felt the hedge, at the point where he was undermining it, subside, with a rustling and creaking which, faint as it was, might easily catch the ear of a wary guard. Fortunately the subsidence was soon checked. The base of the hedge was composed of stout branches which yielded but slightly, and in a few minutes the settling down ceased.

Relieved on this score, Ferrier scraped away at the hole, thinking of John, who was no doubt wondering at the long delay. He worked until his fingers were sore. At last the hole was large enough for him to wriggle under the hedge. He groped with his hands for any thorns that might be sticking out downwards from the tangle above, and finding several, cut them off with his knife. Then, shoving his bundles of grass before him, he crawled into the hole and began to worm his way through. It was a tight fit, and the difficulty was all the greater because of the need for silence. More than once as his body, pressed close against the lower part of the hedge, put some strain upon it, there was a sharp creak when his passage freed the branch. At last he was through, scratched, hot, and breathless, and with a feeling that the various parts of his clothing were in very unnatural relation to one another. But he was through: that was the main thing; and pausing only to take breath, he ran in a stooping posture across the space between the outer and the inner defences.

All was quiet within the boma. Ferrier maintains to this day that snoring is an infirmity of civilization, for the sleepers emitted no sound. He lost no time in completing his task. First he soaked the bundles of grass thoroughly with methylated spirit, having postponed this until he reached the boma, lest evaporation should diminish the effect. Then he thrust them beneath the boma, choosing a place where it was thick and the light from the fires shone through less freely than elsewhere. Then he struck a match and applied it. Instantly there was a great flame; the dry thornbushes of the boma took fire readily. Ferrier slipped away to be out of the glare, but had gone only a few steps when he heard a soft patter of feet behind him. A moment after, the air was rent with rifle cracks and a din of shouting, from within the boma and from a distance. He turned to meet the man approaching, and saw the form of a big negro silhouetted against the glare. Ferrier was unarmed save for his clasp-knife, and he had not made up his mind what to do when a shot whistled past him: the negro had fired at him while still running. Before the man could draw a knife or turn in his tracks Ferrier threw himself upon him, trying to wrest the rifle from his hand. The two fell together; the rifle dropped to the ground; and black man and white were locked in a desperate wrestle. Ferrier felt the negro's arms about him, straining to crush him or to break his back. Oblivious of the tumult around him--the yells and shots within the boma, the shouts of the assailants, the crackle and roar of the flames--Ferrier strove to free himself from the strangling embrace, conscious that he was no match in muscle for his powerful opponent. He had almost given himself up for lost when the man's grip relaxed, and with a heavy groan he lay still. Ferrier sprang up. By the light of the blazing boma he saw the men of his party at two points of the outer hedge, some leaping over it, some slashing at it with their knives and tearing it down. None of them were firing; after the first discharge of their rifles John had ordered them to rush for the camp. Evidently the big negro had been struck down by a shot from his own friends.

Ferrier stood for a moment, marvelling at the din. Then he saw that John's men had crossed the outer hedge and were swarming towards the boma. Shouting at the top of his voice lest he should be butchered by his own party, he left the wounded man on the ground and joined them. With John at their head they were sweeping round towards the gate. The firing from within the boma had now ceased; the shouts were those of the assailants alone; and when the excited throng reached the gate, they saw in the ruddy glare the enemy streaming in frantic haste towards the river. Many an arrow was sped after them; a few of the rearmost narrowly escaped capture. Seeing that they were hopelessly routed, John shouted to his men to refrain from pursuit and retire within the boma. Then, telling off a dozen men to stand at the gate and watch against any rally of the enemy, he called to the rest to help him to check the fire. He left the part that was fiercely burning, and ordered the men to tear down a portion on each side of it, so as to make two large gaps across which the flames could not spring. The work was assisted by the absence of wind. The portion around the spot where Ferrier had kindled the fire soon burnt itself out; the remainder was saved. Within ten minutes after the first blaze the enemy were scattered in confusion, and the camp was in John's hands.

CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH--A Coup de Main

John's first proceeding when the conflagration had been stayed was to look for the property he had been at such pains to recover. The camp-fires gave too little light, so he got Coja to make a couple of torches. Taking one himself and giving the other to Ferrier, he hastened to the centre of the camp, where the baggage was piled. On the way he passed a confused medley of things--sleeping mats, cooking pots, bows and arrows, spears--things left or flung down by the fugitives in their hurried flight. And there, packed in the middle space, out of reach of the fires, were his boxes of ammunition and his rifles.

"We've got the lot, by Jove!" he exclaimed joyfully. "They haven't even opened one of the boxes. What extraordinary luck!"

"Couldn't be better," cried Ferrier heartily. "And you've got more than your own, too; there's a good many bows and arrows and a few spears, besides no end of baskets containing food, I suppose."

"Yes, they belong to the villagers. We'll make them a present of the bows and arrows and spears, and anything else they can find, bar the rifles. There aren't many spears; I suppose the rascals slept with them at their side, and snatched them up when they ran. Hallo! Here are two of the Sniders that Juma ran off with in his first little scheme. That makes three we've recovered."

"And proves that Juma is at the bottom of it."

"I should like to lay that fellow by the heels. But we'd better get something to eat. I'm famishing. Where's our failed B.A.?"

"Here, sir," said a voice at John's elbow. "I obeyed in all points your esteemed injunctions at closest possible proximity, and tender hearty congratulations on the success, not in mortals to command, but more, deserved, which has attended this tour de force."

"Well now, make up the fire and see what you can do to get us a meal. I'll go and talk to the young chief, Charley, and butter him up. He and his men did jolly well. The shouts they let out when I gave the word made amends for their silence during the march, which must have been a trial to them."

Said Mohammed made up the fire and hunted about for the best cooking-pot and the articles of fare he thought would be most pleasing to the white men. The villagers had already set to work to prepare their own food, chattering and laughing in high elation. Within a quarter of an hour Said Mohammed had made a stew of some partly cooked waterbuck he had discovered. He washed out two rough mugs of clay, and pouring the stew into them, handed one to each of the young men.

"A thousand regrets, gentlemen," he said, "that circs. do not admit of more dainty dishes and service to match."

"That's all right," said John. "I could eat anything, and this stew is first-rate."

"Permit me to remark, sir, on national characteristics as displayed by gastronomic ways of going on, utensils, et cetera. The nation, sir, that invented gas-stoves produced Shakespeare, bard of Avon; what achievements in science or literature could be expected from a race that never devilled kidney nor poached egg? Shakespeare himself, sir, was a poacher in giddy youth; though poaching egg and poaching stag are in some respects different, yet each is fine art. The fate of empires lurks in the saucepan; indeed, the mightiest monarch would be negligible quantity without quantum suff. Wherefore----"

"A little more stew, please," said John, interrupting. "You'd better get your own supper, khansaman; you must be pretty peckish after your exertions."

"I am indeed, sir, an abhorred vacuum, and retire with permission to get jolly good tuck-in."

"Thank goodness!" ejaculated John when he had gone. "I say, Charley, I was getting very nervous when we didn't see the light for so long. You were pulled up by that hedge, of course; how did you get through?"

"Burrowed like a mole. I've a greater respect for that animal now. I suppose we'll make tracks for home in the morning, by the bye?"

"Well, d'you know, I'd rather like to finish this job now we've started. Juma's still at large: his men are a rabble, of course, but they're not licked, and if he gets them back to this fort of his he may still worry us, to say nothing of harrying the people about him. What do you say? Are you game?"

"What about the farm?"

"Gillespie will have sent somebody up by the time we could get back."

"But don't you think we've done for Juma? To-night's work will damage his prestige, and I shouldn't wonder if the 'bad men,' as Bill calls them, round on him now."

"I don't know. It will take him some time to recover from the blow, of course, but you see he still has some of our rifles and a certain amount of ammunition, I should think, and they'll go a long way in this country of bows and arrows. No: I confess I'd like to follow him up. The chief difficulty is our natives. They've recovered their property, which is what they came for, and I rather doubt whether they'll be willing to go any farther from home. If they won't there's no more to be said."

"In any case we aren't strong enough to storm the fort, if it is a fort."

"I shouldn't propose to do that. My idea is to start at sunrise or before, and get to the fort in advance of Juma. His men are quite demoralized: they'll take some time to rally. They'll probably hide in trees during the night, and they'll have to find one another in the morning, so that if we start early we can easily outstrip them."

"We don't know the way."

"But we've got some prisoners, my boy. No, we haven't though; I called our men off before they caught them. That's awkward."

"I wonder if the fellow who tried to pot me is still alive."

"You didn't tell me of that. When was it?"

Ferrier related the incident that happened outside the boma. John at once accompanied him to the spot, which they reached just in time to see the wounded man limping towards the outer hedge. They ran after him and caught him, taking him back to the camp, where John examined his leg, and did what he could by bathing and bandaging. Meanwhile he questioned the man, and learnt from him that the fort lay a long day's march to the north. It was held by about forty men, of whom several were Swahilis and had rifles. The fort was built on an island in the river--not the stream flowing past the camp, but a broader river into which that emptied itself a day's march to the south. To find it would be easy. They had only to follow the stream for a short distance, and then strike across country directly to the north. They would soon come upon the river, and the surrounding country being hilly, the easiest way to the fort was to follow its course.

"Now we'll tackle our natives," said John.

He found, as he had expected, that they were at first loath to engage themselves for a further expedition. They had recovered their property: the chief would be expecting them; they wanted to return and celebrate their success by a feast. John pointed out that, though they had done much, they would greatly enhance their glory if they carried back a great quantity of spoil from the enemy. They had been wantonly attacked: why not repay their attackers in their own coin? The fort would certainly contain things worth having. This argument appealed to the men, and when the chief's son reminded them that the wasungu had kept their promise and led them to a bloodless victory, they began to waver. "The wasungu are great hunters of lions," said the young chief; "they are also great hunters of men." John said that any who wished to go home might do so; but none were disposed to pass through the country without the whole body, and ultimately they agreed to follow the msungu wherever he chose to lead them. "You've a most persuasive tongue," said Ferrier to John, as they went away to talk things over. "I'm inclined to think you ought to have gone to the bar after all."

"Bosh! The judges aren't savages. We shall have to arrange a flying column--that's the name for it, isn't it? It's quite clear from what the prisoner said that we must get to the fort well in advance of Juma. If they get back we shan't be able to dislodge them: they won't be caught napping again, you may be sure. As it is, we may find it a hard nut to crack if there are forty men in the fort. We shall have to divide forces, too. We must leave enough men to guard this loot, and I'm afraid we can't both go, old chap: one of us must remain in charge."

"Well, you've done the hardest work so far: you take a rest and let me try my luck."

"But you fired the boma; it's my turn. Tell you what, we'll toss for it. Heads I go, tails you do as you please."

The spin of the coin decided for John.

"Just my luck," said Ferrier. "I always lost the toss when I captained the lacrosse team at McGill's. How many men will you take?"

"I can't do with fewer than twenty. I'll take Bill; Coja and Said Mohammed had better remain with you. By the way, you'll send over to our old camp in the morning and fetch the half-dozen we left there. They'll jump out of their skins if they're left too long. I wonder if our wounded prisoner could manage to come with me. I might find him useful. In fact, I'll take him--on a litter if he can't walk."

"Well, you'd better get a sleep now, or you won't be fit for much in the morning. The men too. It looks as though they meant to jabber all night."

"I'll stop that. I'll go and pick my men and make 'em go to sleep. Wake me at five, there's a good chap. By Jove! Wouldn't my old dad be in a stew if he knew what was up! We're risking a lot when you come to think of it; but we've been lucky so far, and with rifles and plenty of ammunition I fancy we'll win through. If I'm not back within two or three days you had better make tracks for the farm. Don't forget to wake me at five."

"All right. Pleasant dreams!"

Precisely at five o'clock John was roused, to find ready for him a breakfast of steaming stew and baked millet cakes. Ferrier had also prepared a litter for the prisoner, whose wound forbade him to walk. At half-past five the little company set off, consisting of John and the Wanderobbo, and twenty of the villagers. John had his rifle, a spare one being carried by a man at his side. Only two of the other men had ever handled firearms; these were given rifles, and carried the ammunition in little bundles slung to their backs. John had filled his bandolier and his pockets with cartridges. Ferrier said good-bye to him at the gate of the boma, and started the men left behind in a rousing cheer.

The party marched very rapidly, John at the head with Bill and the litter-bearers, so that the prisoner might keep them in the right way. They followed the course of the stream for about a mile; then forded it, and made across a stretch of grassland, in which, as the morning advanced, they started large numbers of game. Just before noon they reached the river of which the prisoner had spoken, a slow, gurgling current of red water. Here they halted for a meal of beans and millet; then after an hour's rest set forth again. They had gone but a short distance up-stream when, as they ascended a slight acclivity, Bill was seized with intense excitement. Pointing to a flat-topped hill many miles away, he cried that it was there the Arab safari was attacked, and near by the ivory was hidden. A projecting spur to the right was the site of the shambas whence the people had pounced out to the assault. His own old home lay half a day's journey beyond the hill.