It was in the early hours of the morning when "A" Company marched into bivouac. The men dismissed, Wilmshurst wrote out his report, handed it in and promptly fell sound asleep.
The colonel, wisely deciding that little could be done with men worn out with sleeplessness and fatigue, issued orders that the pursuit would be abandoned until the Haussas had recovered their usual form. Meanwhile other columns were on the track of the raiders, who, but for the vigilance and dogged determination of Lieutenant Sutton, would have "wiped out" the Waffs' bivouac during the latter's wild-goose chase.
For five hours the young officer, assisted by Second-lieutenant Vipont and a handful of Haussas, held the Huns at bay. With rifle, bayonet and bomb the plucky sons of the Empire manned the frail defences, until the enemy, unable to achieve their objective, retired before the returning battalion could bring them to action.
"Hullo, Wilmshurst!" exclaimed Laxdale, as the three subalterns of "A" company met just before a belated breakfast. "What happened to you?"
"A wash-out," replied Dudley. "Held on till five this morning, and never a chance of a shot; or rather, when it came we were dished."
"Heard the news?" asked Danvers. "No? We had it this morning. The Huns have rushed a Portuguese position on the Rovuma. The Portuguese skedaddled, leaving the whole battery of quick-firers intact. I suppose it'll mean our chasing Fritz southward right through Portuguese East. With luck we'll corner them on the Zambesi."
"Guess you're wrong, Danvers," interrupted Laxdale. "I know how the business is going to end; street fighting in Cape Town. Fritz won't stand, so it's an everlasting chase until he's got the sea at his back."
"Any one seen MacGregor this morning?" enquired Wilmshurst.
"MacGregor? Didn't you find him?" asked Vipont, who had joined the group of tired-eyed subalterns. "After the column left camp—about an hour and a half, I should say—he asked Sutton to let him try and overtake the battalion. Said he didn't want to swing the lead with a mere scratch on his shin-bone. So he mounted and rode off. That's the last I saw of him."
"How long before the Huns attacked?" asked Danvers.
"Three hours," replied Vipont. "You don't suggest that a skilled scout blundered right on top of them?"
"Not at all," his questioner hastened to assert. "For one thing after he followed us he would be on a diverging route to that taken by Fritz & Co. What do you say, Wilmshurst?"
Dudley shook his head. He had no particular cause either to like or dislike the man, but he hesitated to give definite utterance to his suspicions. It was decidedly un-British to condemn a man before being sure of actual facts and to sow the seeds of distrust against an individual who was not present to defend himself. But somehow the chain of events—the horse's footprints on the kloof road, the warning shot when the hitherto unsuspecting Huns were approaching the ambush, the mark V. cartridge case—all pointed to treachery on the part of some one, while MacGregor's disappearance coincided with the other points that had occurred to the subaltern.
"He may be bushed," he replied. "It's just likely that he'll turn up again soon. Has his absence been reported? I'll mention it, if you like. I have to see the adjutant in a few minutes."
Wilmshurst found the adjutant in his "office," which consisted of three walls of piled ammunition boxes, with a double covering of canvas. The furniture was composed of a desk (an upturned packing-case) and a couple of chairs (smaller dittos) the former being littered with official forms and papers, for even in the wilds of Africa the British Army cannot dispense with red-tape formalities.
"Mornin', Mr. Wilmshurst," was the adjutant's greeting as he returned the subaltern's salute. "Want to see you with reference to that report of yours, don't you know. Take a pew. You'll find that case pretty comfortable, and come in out of the sun. Look here: from your report I understand that a warning shot was fired, but not by any of ours. Is that so?"
Wilmshurst paused. The adjutant was quick to notice his hesitation.
"Come, come!" he continued sharply. "Do you suspect any one? If so, out with it. We can't stand on sentiment in matters of this description, don't you know."
"Are you aware, sir, that MacGregor left camp shortly after we left camp and has not returned?"
"Hasn't he, by Jove!" exclaimed the adjutant. "Well, what about it? Has that anything to do with the case in point?"
"I hope not, sir," answered the subaltern, "but—but——"
"Proceed," urged his questioner calmly.
Wilmshurst, seeing no other course, boldly took his plunge, stating his views upon the connection between the scout's disappearance and the timely warning received by the retiring enemy, producing as evidence the rimmed cartridge case, which by reason of its shape and calibre could not be fired from a Mauser rifle.
"Dash it all!" exclaimed the adjutant explosively. "What sort of reptile have we been harbouring? I'm afraid that what steps we take concerning him will be locking the stable door after the horse has gone."
"We are working simply in conjecture, sir," observed the subaltern. "He may be all right, after all."
"Conjecture, confound it!" shouted the other. "What d'you call this?" holding up the cartridge case. "If it isn't circumstantial evidence, what is?"
At that moment an orderly put in an appearance. "Macgreg him horse am come back, sah," he reported, saluting.
The adjutant, picking up a sheaf of papers and putting on his sun-helmet, hurried to the lines where the horses were picketed, Wilmshurst following and the orderly bringing up the rear.
Already news of MacGregor's disappearance had spread, although there was no thought of treachery in the minds of the other officers. They had come to the conclusion that the Rhodesian in an access of zeal had blundered right into the enemy column.
The appearance of the horse bore out this surmise. The animal was lathered with foam, its eyes bloodshot and its limbs trembling. Across the hind quarters was the sear of a bullet that had cut away the hair and left a slight wound in the hide. One stirrup was missing, cut through by means of a sharp implement, while the saddle and reins were dappled with blood-stains.
"Bless my soul, Manners!" exclaimed the colonel turning to the adjutant. "What does this mean?"
"Dunno, sir, I'm sure," answered the dum-founded officer.
"We can't let the affair drop," decided the C.O. "It's not fair on MacGregor to sit still. Tell off a section and follow the horse's tracks. Perhaps the man has been wounded—it looks very much like it—and may be lying out in the bush."
Promptly Bela Moshi and about a dozen men were dispatched to follow up the spoor. Good trackers all, they ought to experience but little difficulty, notwithstanding the fact that hundreds of men had been trampling the ground, for the Haussas vie with the Australian aborigines and the Red Indian in the act of tracing a man or an animal for miles with uncanny skill and persistence.
Hardly had the Haussas departed on their errand when a couple of British naval officers literally staggered into the bivouac. At first they were too utterly done up to speak. They were parched with thirst, their drill uniforms torn in their long trek through the scrub, and their boots were cut almost to pieces. One of them was limping badly as the result of a sprained ankle.
Under the care of Doctor Barclay the stragglers soon recovered sufficiently to give a coherent account of their misadventures. They were the observer and pilot of one of the seaplanes attached to the Rovuma column, their base being close to a large sheet of water formed by the inundation of the river. Out reconnoitring they had discovered a party of Huns and had bombed them very effectually. That was their version, although Wilmshurst had good reason to believe that they were quite under a misapprehension on that score. On the return flight the engine developed ignition troubles, and there was no help for it but to plane down. The airmen were lucky in being able to find a fairly open stretch of ground, but the unexpected happened. The floats of the seaplane skidded over the hard ground and caught against some obstruction, with the result that the machine was badly damaged, the pilot and observer being thrown violently.
Forty miles from their base the airmen realised that it was almost out of the question to make their way on foot through the scrub, especially as there were several small rivers to be negotiated. So they decided to find the bivouac of the Waffs which they had spotted on their outward flight. According to their estimate the distance was about eight miles, but in reality it was almost twice that distance.
Owing to the intense heat they were compelled to discard their overalls. Their foot gear was totally inadequate against the thorns and stony ground. Without water and with only a bar of chocolate between them they experienced terrible hardships before they sighted their temporary refuge.
Their chief anxiety was now the question whether the seaplane could be recovered. On this score their minds were set at rest, when the colonel promised to send out a fatigue party to dismantle the machine and transport it to the banks of the Runkoma, a small stream sufficiently wide to allow the seaplane to taxi provided the floats were still intact.
"You might take that job on, Mr. Wilmshurst," remarked his company commander. "Your platoon will be just about sufficient to provide the necessary labour, and also a covering party, although I don't contemplate any trouble from the Huns. We've just heard that Fritz has had a nasty smack at Motungba, which more than counterbalances his recent success against the Portuguese on the Rovuma."
The action to which the major referred was a brilliant little affair on the part of the main column operating in the Rovuma valley. The Huns were found to be in a strong natural position, the defence of which was further increased by well-constructed trenches and entanglements.
Notwithstanding the difficulties of a frontal attack, a Punjabi regiment stormed the defences, the Indians making terrific havoc with bombs. The Askaris broke and fled, the Germans alone putting up a fight until they were either killed or captured. The native levies in their flight were overtaken and cut up by a squadron of colonial horse, and with slight loss the Imperial forces scored a dashing little victory, capturing four field guns and one naval gun removed from the cruiserKonigsberg, beside a vast quantity of arms and ammunition.
The result of this engagement was a junction with the gallant Belgian forces, the Huns being split up into two groups, of which the principal force was on the Portuguese border, while the other, subdivided into mobile detachments, was doubling back towards the Rufigi river.
"These fellows will give trouble," declared the major. "They won't stand. They are in a mortal funk of enveloping movements; but by the time we've rounded 'em up we'll be jolly sick of the show, you mark my words."
The return of Bela Moshi and his section diverted Wilmshurst's attention into another channel. The Haussa sergeant had succeeded in following the spoor of MacGregor's horse for three and a half miles along the path taken by the Waffs of their practically barren operations against the kopje when the Huns had been reported. Here the trail ended in a medley of hoof-prints, while hard by a rock were traces of the splaying of half a dozen bullets. In the sun-baked grass in front of the rock were found ten used cartridge cases and a stirrup-iron, but a prolonged search faded to reveal any traces of the missing Rhodesian's departure from the spot where he had apparently been brought to bay. There were hundreds of footprints all around; those of Askaris and Germans, for none of the imprints of booted feet bore any resemblance to those of Robert MacGregor.
At the first opportunity the adjutant called Wilmshurst aside.
"You didn't mention your suspicions to any one else?" he enquired.
"No, sir," replied Dudley.
"It's just as well for the present," continued Captain Manners. "For MacGregor's sake I hope that you have done him an injustice, but I am quite convinced that you acted judiciously in communicating your suspicions to me. However, there's still one point that wants clearing up. The patrol did not find MacGregor's body. Nor was there any spoor to show which way he went if he did succeed in breaking through the enemy. The third surmise is that he might have been taken prisoner. If so, is it likely that the Huns provided him with a horse? I think not. Knowing Fritz as we do, the sort of thing that they would do would be to lash his wrists, and drag him at the end of a line—but Bela Moshi was emphatic that none of the boot-prints corresponded to those of the missing man. Until the mystery is cleared up, we are at a loss to understand whether MacGregor is a true man or a traitor."
Hauptmann Max von Argerlich, senior surviving officer of the 99th Regiment of Askaris, was in a furious temper with himself and every one with whom he came in contact. It might have been the unusual exertion of a forced march in the heat of the sun, or an insufficiency of food that had upset him. The hard-worked Askaris had good cause to dread his passionate outbursts, for on these occasions lashes were ordered at the faintest pretext, for efficiency, according to the hauptmann's ideas, could only be maintained by an active display of physical force.
Von Argerlich's depleted and harassed force lay entrenched at M'ganga, after having withdrawn from another fortified position half an hour too late according to the hauptmann's idea. All but surrounded, the Askaris just managed to escape being captured to a man, and now, temporarily safe from pursuit, the regiment had arrived at a prepared position to await another column known to be retiring in a north-westerly direction.
The hauptmann was a middle-aged officer, a Prussian who through some indiscretion that had given offence to his Imperial master had been practically banished by being sent to German East Africa. That was two years before the war. Upon the outbreak of hostilities he hoped by melodramatic means to find himself restored to favour, but to his chagrin he saw that younger officers gained promotion in the German Colonial Forces while he remained at this present rank of hauptmann.
With a bottle of spirits by his side von Argerlich sprawled upon a camp bed, while in the absence of mosquito curtain two lean Askaris, terrified by the Hun's drunken outburst, were diligently fanning him with broad leaves of a palm, knowing that if their efforts relaxed or developed into greater zeal than the hauptmann desired, the schambok awaited them.
Von Argerlich had good cause to remember the scrap before the retreat. A bullet fired from behind had nicked his ear, and he knew that it was one of his Askaris who had fired. As a warning he had ordered half a dozen of the luckless natives to be executed, but even then he was far from certain that the culprit was included in the number. There were strong signs of mutinous insubordination in the ranks of the 99th Askari Regiment, and only the fact that the expected column was on its way to join the forces under von Argerlich's command kept the black troops in any semblance of order.
The hauptmann was both sorry and glad on that account; sorry because he would automatically drop into a subordinate position when other German officers superior in rank came in with the column; glad, since there would be sufficient Europeans to overawe the iron-disciplined yet mutinous native troops.
The appearance of the German sergeant-major interrupted the hauptmann's reveries. Clicking his heels and stiffly saluting the veteran awaited his officer's permission to speak.
"Well, dolt?" enquired von Argerlich thickly.
"A scout has just reported that the Gwelba column has been sighted, Herr Hauptmann," announced the warrant officer. "The advance guard ought to be here within half an hour."
"It is well," replied the hauptmann, rising unsteadily. "Tell Lieutenant Muller to get the men under arms. Where's my sword? Hans, you black schweinhund, bring me my boots, and take care that there are no centipedes in them, or——"
Still grumbling the hauptmann buckled on his sword, donned his sun-helmet and boots and went out into the open space between the trench and the lines of low-built huts where the remnants of the 99th regiment—250 men out of a full strength of 1,200—were falling in.
Worn and weary the advance guard of the column limped into the camp, followed at regular intervals by the main body. With the latter was Oberst von Lindenfelt, the senior officer of the column, and another individual dressed in nondescript garments whose face seemed familiar to von Argerlich.
"Greetings, Max!" exclaimed von Lindenfelt. "Let us hope you have plenty of food. We are almost starving."
"Not much in that line, Herr Oberst," replied von Argerlich. "How have you fared?"
"Donnerwetter!" said the oberst vehemently. "Things have gone badly. It is indeed fortunate that we managed to find our way in. Had it not been for von Gobendorff here—you have met von Gobendorff before, I understand?"
"Der teufel!" ejaculated the hauptmann, grasping the hand of the motley-garbed man, "of course I have. Ulrich, ten thousand pardons, but in two years a man is apt to alter, especially in these strenuous times. Has anything happened that you have been compelled to drop your Scottish name? Let me think. Ach! I have it. MacGregor, was it not?"
Ulrich von Gobendorff shook his head. "Nothing compelled me, Max," he replied. "The time was ripe—therefore Robert MacGregor is no more. The name and character served their purpose," he continued, assuming a boastful tone. "It was I who warned von Lindenfelt's column when it stood a good chance of being cut off at Gwelba kopje. Again it is to my credit that a detachment of our forces was not ambushed at Zwarte kloof. I covered my tracks very effectively, did I not, Herr Oberst? Himmel. I have news for you, Max. The brother of your personal enemy, Rupert Wilmshurst, is with the English forces operating against us. Several times I have spoken to him."
"Has he any suspicion?" asked the hauptmann anxiously.
"None at all," replied von Gobendorff. "It was easy to tell him a plausible tale. And how fares the interfering Englishman, Rupert Wilmshurst?"
"We still have him in close confinement up in the Karewenda Geberge," replied the hauptmann carelessly.
"A personal matter?" enquired Oberst von Lindenfelt.
"The accursed Englishman struck me a blow because I thought fit to chastise a thieving native woman," replied von Argerlich. "That was when the fellow was still prowling round to find the ammunition which we buried in readiness for the present time. Our good friend Ulrich trapped him."
"Why didn't you shoot the Englishman as soon as I had departed for South-West Africa?" enquired Ulrich von Gobendorff. "It would have been a simple solution to the difficulty, for dead men tell no tales."
"I would have done so," replied the hauptmann, "but for this reason. There were hundreds of natives who saw him taken away under arrest. If things go wrong with us they will most certainly inform the English. Also I do not wish to be a subject for reprisals, as I hear our foes are adopting that attitude. If we are to be on the losing side it pays us to walk circumspectly. By the bye, have you heard anything lately of your brother, Ernst?"
"Not for many months," replied Ulrich von Gobendorff. "The last time I received indirect tidings that he was doing good work in England. It will take a very smart man to catch Ernst. He is one of the most wily Secret Service Agents in the employ of the German Imperial Government."
Oberst von Lindenfelt having dismissed the troops the three Germans adjourned to the hauptmann's quarters, where over the remains of the bottle of spirits conversation was resumed.
"Tell me how you gave the Englishman the slip, Ulrich," asked von Argerlich.
"It was quite a simple matter," replied the spy. "I informed the camp commander—he was a simple sort of leutnant—that I was going to overtake the column, the column, by the bye, having been sent by me on a fool's errand to capture an imaginary laager on Gwelba kopje. According to previous arrangements I fell in with Hauptmann Schmidt's company, and he obligingly set a squad of his Askaris to work to stage the last stand of Scout MacGregor. We trampled the grass, left a few cartridge cases lying about and sent my borrowed horse away with a bullet-wound in his flank to hurry him up, and to give additional colour to the effect. I should not be surprised to see the name of Robert MacGregor posthumously honoured with the British Military Medal or something of that sort."
The three Huns laughed uproariously. Under the temporarily exhilarating effect of the rank spirit they were beginning to forget their physical exhaustion.
"To be on the safe side," continued von Gobendorff, "it will be necessary for me to get as far away from the Nth-West African Regiment as I can. I presume that you have no objection to my leaving you, Herr Oberst?"
Von Lindenfelt grunted assent.
"Can you get clear of the colony?" he asked. "Every frontier is guarded, while since theJaguarsucceeded in running her cargo of quick-firers ashore even the coast is rigidly patrolled by those accursed English cruisers."
"Give me a dozen native carriers, rifles and ammunition, and I'll wager that before another fortnight I'll be in Rhodesia," declared von Gobendorff. "Once there the rest will be easy; train to Cape Town, mail-boat to Plymouth, our splendid unterseebooten permitting; then, having applied to a certain compatriot in London for a forged passport, I'll cross to Flushing and be in German territory three months from now."
"If you do, please don't forget to inform the authorities at Berlin that I am still doing good work for the Fatherland," remarked the hauptmann earnestly. "The War Office seems to forget us out here."
"Quite so," agreed von Lindenfelt. "We do not get even Iron Crosses, although we are still holding out after two years of incessant guerrilla warfare. Only the other day——"
A junior officer stood in the doorway, his flaccid features working with excitement.
"Pardon, Herr Oberst," he exclaimed, as he saluted. "An English aeroplane——"
"Donnerwetter!" interrupted the German excitedly. "Is that so? Von Argerlich, I trust that there is a positively bomb-proof shelter available? How far away is the accursed machine, Herr Schmidt? Is it flying in the direction of M'ganga?"
"No, sir," replied the leutnant gravely. He wanted to smile, but a display of mirth at the expense of a superior officer was not advisable. "It has fallen at about twelve kilometres from here. Our scouts reported that the two occupants were seen tramping through the bush in the direction of the English bivouac four miles south of Gwelba."
"Why did not the Askaris shoot them?" demanded Oberst von Lindenfelt.
"There were but three of our scouts and the Englishmen were armed," explained the German. "I would venture to suggest, Herr Oberst, that the men did well to return immediately with their report rather than risk being disabled in an attempt to engage the airmen."
Von Lindenfelt pondered a few moments, then he turned abruptly to Ulrich von Gobendorff.
"I believe you understand aeroplanes, Ulrich," he said. "Did you not fly at the great Johannesthal meeting a few years ago? I thought you told me so. Ah! yes. You will accompany Hauptmann von Argerlich and a half company of Askaris. If the machine is easily repairable, fly it back here, otherwise destroy it. Until this duty is performed I withhold my permission for you to leave the column. Start as soon as possible. A horse will be provided you."
It was useless to demur. The oberst's word was law. Inwardly raging von Gobendorff rose to his feet, stiffly saluted and followed the hauptmann out of the hut in execution of von Lindenfelt's order.
At dawn Wilmshurst left the camp, accompanied by the full platoon, to attempt the salving of the crippled seaplane. It was a comparatively easy matter to follow the tracks of the two airmen, for the down-trodden grass and the frequent sights of wisps of clothing adhering to the briars and thorns were evidences of a spoor that even an indifferent scout could determine.
"Those two johnnies must have had a rough time of it," thought the subaltern. "I can well imagine their difficulties. It's a wonder they got to the camp at all, for there are distinct spoors of lions. What's that, Bela Moshi?"
"Big rhino him come by," reported the sergeant, pointing to heavy depression on the ground. What he meant was that a rhinoceros had cut across the bush path not so very long ago, as the freshly trampled grass showed.
"All right," replied Wilmshurst. "Warn the men to be on the alert. We don't want casualties."
Bela Moshi hurried to the head of the column, for the Haussas were in single file, owing to the narrowness of the bush-path.
At that moment the platoon was crossing a dried water-course, the ground shelving steeply on both sides. The subaltern had an almost uninterrupted view of the heads and shoulders of the men preceding him as the foremost began the stiff ascent beyond the nullah.
Suddenly the Haussas broke right and left, uttering warning shouts. Charging down the narrow track was a huge animal of the buffalo tribe, commonly known in Central Africa as a "bush-cow."
The ground trembled under the thud of the brute's ponderous weight as it rushed at terrific speed to attack the khaki-clad blacks.
One man alone stood his ground. Dropping on one knee he fired straight at the centre of the tufts of hair that concealed the animal's eyes, the range being less than thirty yards.
Dudley heard the almost simultaneous crash of the rifle and the thud of the bullet against the bush-cow's frontal-bone, but apparently unharmed the animal continued its headlong rush.
Too late the plucky Haussa attempted to avoid the impetus by springing aside. Even as he leapt to his feet the man was caught by the lowered head of the ferocious brute and tossed ten feet in the air.
Across the bed of the dried-up stream the bush-cow charged, until Wilmshurst hurriedly came to the conclusion that it was quite time for him to dodge behind a tree. As he made for shelter he saw the animal's fore-legs collapse and its ponderous carcass plough the ground.
Making his way through the press of excited Haussas Wilmshurst saw that the bush-cow was stone dead. The bullet had penetrated the brain, entering by a neatly-drilled puncture and emerging by a hole as large as a man's fist. Yet, although hit in a vital spot, the animal had covered a distance of nearly fifty yards before collapsing.
"One no go," declared Bela Moshi. "Anoder him lib for come plenty quick."
"Think so?" remarked the subaltern. "Then don't stand bunched up together—extend. Three of you lift Nara Gilul into the shade."
Anxiously Wilmshurst examined the brave but unfortunate black. Nara Gilul was fully conscious in spite of having fallen on his head, but two of his ribs were fractured and his shins were badly cut although protected by his puttees.
"Nara Gilul him stop till we come back," suggested the corporal of his section in answer to Dudley's question as to what was to be done. "Him 'ab rifle an' ammunition. Him lib to take care ob himsel'. Berry much him fault."
"That won't do, corporal," said Wilmshurst. "We must send him back. Take five men with you. It will be only two hours' trek."
Accordingly the Haussas set to work to make a stretcher, performing the task with wonderful celerity. They were on the point of lifting the helpless man when the shout was raised.
"Bush-cow, him come!"
"Take cover, all of you!" shouted the subaltern, loath to hamper his task by additional casualties.
The Haussas obeyed with one exception—Bela Moshi.
The sergeant, slipping a clip into the magazine, stood right in the centre of the path along which the second bush-cow was tearing, eager to avenge its mate.
Wilmshurst made no further attempt to order Beta Moshi to take refuge. He realised that to do so would flurry the imperturbable sergeant, but he was entirely at a loss to understand why the Haussa was apparently courting disaster in precisely the same way as the luckless Nara Gilul had done.
A rifle bolt clicked in the bush on the sergeant's flank.
"Unload!" he hissed, knowing that the risk he ran from an excited man with a loaded rifle was greater than that confronting him.
At a terrific pace the bush-cow bore down. Twenty yards from the motionless man the brute lowered its head. In that position its vision was obscured by the thick tufts of long hair. Having taken its final "sighting position" the animal relied upon its momentum to achieve the destruction of its human enemy.
The moment the bush-cow lowered its head Bela Moshi, with every sense on the alert, leapt sideways behind a tree. Then, as the infuriated quadruped thundered past, the Haussa brought his rifle to the shoulder and fired.
Thirty yards further the bush-cow dropped and died with a bullet through its heart, while the victor, grinning as only a black can grin, strode magnificently up to his victim and planted one foot upon the quivering carcass.
The injured man having been sent back and the carcasses of the two animals dragged aside—they would provide excellent meat if the task of sun drying the flesh was not unduly delayed—the march was resumed, until on gaining the summit of a low hill the wings of the broken-down seaplane were visible as they rose obliquely above the scanty scrub at a distance of nearly two miles.
Halting his men, Wilmshurst made a careful survey of the ground by means of his binoculars. A number of large birds—aasvogels, or African vultures—were circling over the derelict. It was therefore safe to conclude that no human being, unless helpless to lift a hand, was in the vicinity.
In the midst of his investigations Tari Barl approached with a self-satisfied smile on his ebony features.
"Askari him foots, sah!" he reported, holding up three fingers of his right hand to indicate that he had discovered the spoor of three of the German native soldiery.
"H'm!" muttered Dudley. "That's rotten news. New spoor, Tarry Barrel?"
The Haussa nodded vehemently, and led his officer to the footprints.
Examination showed that three natives had been following the spoor of the two naval airmen. The firm tread of the latter—for at that stage of the journey they were comparatively fresh—was partly obliterated by the typical imprints of a black walking stealthily on his toes, for the impress of the heels hardly occurred. The Askaris had abandoned the trail a short distance from the brow of the hill, for there were marks where they had stood and debated, and the spoor leading in a north-westerly direction showed that they had gone by a different route from the one they had followed. This track did not lead in the direction of the stranded seaplane, so Wilmshurst conjectured that the Askaris had made straight for their main body, possibly with the intention of bringing men to recover the trophy.
Again the subaltern levelled his glasses and swept the skyline. Wending their way down a bare kloof were about two hundred armed blacks and three men in European garb riding in the centre of the column.
"MacGreg him dar, sah!" exclaimed Bela Moshi.
"Nonsense!" replied Wilmshurst, yet in his heart he was not at all sure but that the Haussa was right.
"MacGreg him make palaver with Bosh-bosh," declared the sergeant.
It was a contest between a pair of high-powered field glasses and the eyesight of a native. Vainly Wilmshurst wiped the lenses and looked and looked again without being able to satisfy himself that Bela Moshi's statement was correct.
"Here, you boy!" said the sergeant addressing Tari Barl. "You come here an' use yer eyes all one time quick. Say who am white man on der black horse."
"Me tink MacGreg him come," replied Tari Barl after a brief survey. "No; me no tink me know."
Wilmshurst waited inactive. Until the approaching hostile column had descended from the high ground and the men were deep in the bush, attempt on the part of the Haussas to advance from the ridge would result in the latter's detection. So, holding the men well under cover Wilmshurst kept the Huns under observation until it was safe to attempt a surprise.
Long before the extended line of troops had marched into the scrub-laden valley, the subaltern was forced to come to the conclusion that MacGregor was not only with the enemy, but obviously one of them. As the distance decreased he could make out the man's features, quite distinctly, and could see him talking volubly with the German officers on either side.
The Askaris were numerically far stronger than Wilmshurst's platoon, but the Haussas had a great advantage—that of being the surprising force. In bush fighting especially this is a decided advantage, since the closeness of the ground prevents the troops attacked knowing the number or disposition of their opponents, while the moral effect of a sudden rush of well-armed and disciplined men upon enemies practically unprepared for the onslaught cannot be under-estimated.
"MacGreg him make for maquisha," declared Bela Moshi grimly, as he carefully blacked the foresight of his rifle.
"Maquisha" in the Haussa language signifies something more than finished. A man might say, "I've finished eating," for example, and yet in a few hours he will be again satisfying his hunger, but "maquisha" signifies finished in the penultimate sense—the final extermination of a certain person or thing.
"No, no, Bela Moshi," said Wilmshurst decidedly. "We want MacGreg taken prisoner. That's important. Pass the word along; tell the men that there's a month's pay to the Haussa who takes MacGreg alive."
It was rather a tall order, and Wilmshurst knew it. MacGregor, now openly a traitor, would not be likely to surrender in view of the fact that a drum-head court-martial and an ignominious death in front of a firing-party would certainly be his fate.
Returning his field glasses and confidently snapping the lid of the case Wilmshurst gave the word to advance in open order. He had decided upon a position about two hundred yards short of the derelict aircraft, guessing that the still unsuspecting enemy would concentrate upon that objective, and thus form a compact and easy target for the Haussas' rifles.
Naturally concluding that the airmen had chosen the most open stretch of ground available for the purpose of making their landing, Wilmshurst found that his judgment was sound. Right in the centre of the valley the scrub was almost entirely absent, the ground being covered with grass little more than ankle deep in height and absolutely devoid of cover over a belt of nearly four hundred yards in width.
Up to a certain point the Huns showed caution, for presently two Askaris, pushing on ahead of the main body, came into view. That they expected no danger was apparent from the fact that they had their rifles slung. At the sight of the derelict seaplane they stood stock-still, for it was the first aircraft at rest that they had seen. Then bounding across the intervening stretch of grass they wandered round and round the machine, jabbering and pointing out to each other various parts of the aeroplane that particularly struck their attention.
The shrill blasts of a whistle diverted their thoughts into another direction. The officer in charge of the Askari column had signalled to the scouts to advance and examine the scrub beyond the place where the seaplane stood.
Like well-trained dogs the two native soldiers obeyed, and with their rifles still slung they hastened towards the position occupied by the alert Haussas, passing between two clumps of cacti behind which were hiding Tari Barl, No Go, Double-headed Penny and two more of No. 1 Section.
The Haussas let them pass. Unsuspicious the Askaris proceeded until their movements were hidden from their friends by the intervening scrub, then with hardly a sound the five lithe and muscular Waffs leapt upon them.
Before the startled men could even utter a gurgle they were lying flat on their backs, unable to move hand or foot, while a hand laid over their mouths and a keen-edged bayonet laid across their throats warned them that silence was the only alternative to sudden death.
Accepting the former choice the prisoners were bound and gagged, and taken a hundred yards or so into the bush, a Haussa mounting guard over them to make sure that the wily Askaris did not slip their bonds.
Wilmshurst's anxiety was now the thought that the main body would not emerge from the bush, since the two scouts were not able to signal that all was well. Several minutes passed, but still the German troops failed to debouch from the scrub.
A stealthy footstep behind him made the subaltern turn his head. To his surprise he saw Bela Moshi rigged out in the uniform and equipment of one of the captives.
"Me give Bosh-bosh de word 'Come on' one time quick, sah," he announced. "Me know how."
Wilmshurst did not think fit to enquire how the resourceful sergeant acquired the information. There are times when an officer does well not to question his subordinate's actions.
"Very good, carry on," he whispered.
Standing in a gap between two clumps of bushes Bela Moshi, grasping his rifle a few inches from the muzzle, held the weapon vertically above his head moving it to and fro five or six times.
The decoy signal was almost immediately answered by the appearance of the main body of the Askaris and with them the three Europeans, who were still mounted.
Wilmshurst let them approach until the foremost Askaris were within a hundred yards of the seaplane. They were now in no semblance of order, surging impetuously forward, their officers towering head and shoulders above the throng.
Sharp and shrill rang out the subaltern's whistle. A volley, crisp and clear, burst from the line of admirably concealed Haussas, then each man "let rip" as fast as he could withdraw, and thrust home the bolt of his rifle and bring the weapon to his shoulder.
It was such a tremendous surprise that for a moment the Askaris, save those who dropped, stood stock still. Then, panic-stricken, they broke and fled, the German officers setting them the example.
As the so-called MacGregor wheeled his horse Bela Moshi, who had withheld his fire, saw his opportunity. At five hundred yards he sent a bullet crashing through the devoted animal's head. Like a stone the horse dropped, throwing its rider to the earth.
By some means the dried grass took fire, the flames crackling and roaring as they spread with great rapidity, fortunately away from the broken-down seaplane. Through the whirling clouds of smoke could be faintly discerned the backs of the fugitives, many of whom dropped as they ran with a Haussa's bullet betwixt their shoulder blades, while remorselessly the devouring element made its way in the direction of the place where the traitor had fallen.
So complete was the demoralization of the foe that Wilmshurst had now no hesitation in ordering an advance at the double. Although the German levies still greatly outnumbered the Haussas the former had—in Tommy parlance—"the wind up properly," and numerical superiority no longer counted.
With fixed bayonets the platoon swept forward. Over the path of the fire the Haussas rushed, the still glowing embers failing to deter them, their bare feet notwithstanding. Yelling and shouting they pursued their foes, sweeping aside all isolated attempts at resistance, until the remnants of the hostile column were driven more than two miles from the scene of their surprise.
It took considerable efforts on the part of the non-commissioned officer to make the highly-elated Haussas desist from pursuit, but Wilmshurst knew too well the rashness of a prolonged chase through difficult country. Retiring, picking up wounded and prisoners as they went, the Waffs re-formed on arriving at the open belt of ground where the brilliant little victory had commenced.
By this time the scrub was well alight, fanned by the strong south-easterly breeze. The fire was also working against the wind, but the concerted efforts of the Haussas prevented it approaching the derelict aircraft.
In vain a search was made for the traitor who was known to the Haussas as MacGreg. His horse, surrounded by half a dozen badly-charred corpses, was discovered, but of the rider there were no signs. Reluctantly Wilmshurst was forced to come to the conclusion that fortune had favoured the recreant, and that under cover of the dense smoke the fellow had either crawled away or else had been carried by some of the Askaris.