Tom Willoughby's Scouts Part 17

Tom withdrew behind the bush, bidding Mwesa stand a little forward and watch: his dark body would be less likely to attract the eyes of the climbers.

It was some time before they heard slow footsteps on the cleft below them, and then e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns from Reinecke complaining of the steepness of the ascent. Then Mwesa reported that the German had rounded a bend; the Arab was just behind him. Tom drew the lad back behind the bush.

"Deal with Haroun," he whispered, "when I have dealt with Reinecke."

The two men mounted slowly. Tom waited until the German had come within two or three paces of him, then stepped out into the middle of the narrow path. Reinecke, a foot or two below him, looked up. His face paled beneath the bronze: he recoiled, and fumbled for his revolver.

Before he could grasp it Tom sprang at him, and with one deftly aimed blow on the point of the chin hurled him against the side of the cleft.

He fell like a log. At the same moment Mwesa darted past his master, and flung himself on the Arab, who had halted in consternation at the sudden onslaught. He stepped back, warded off Mwesa with his arm, and turned to escape down the cleft. Before he had taken three steps the negro had recovered himself, and plunged his knife into the Arab's back.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MWESA FLUNG HIMSELF ON THE ARAB.]

So swiftly, so silently had things been done that no sound could have reached the ears of any one who had chanced to be within a hundred paces.

Tom bent down over the German. He was unconscious. Strange fate, that had made him for the second time the captive of the man he had wronged!

"Watch him," said Tom to Mwesa. "Call me if he revives before I come back."

He went down the cleft until he reached the rock on which the men had lain. Climbing it, he looked over upon the huts fifty or sixty feet below, the lake near by, and a considerable stretch of the nullah.

There were signs of excitement among the people, who were gathered in knots, talking and gesticulating. The German prisoners, standing in front of their hut in the middle of the island, evidently suspected that something had happened, some emergency had arisen, for they were shouting, beckoning to the men nearest the margin of the lake.

"I had better reveal myself at once," thought Tom.

He stood up on the rock, put his whistle to his lips, and blew the signal for "Fall in." The voices, the movements, of the people ceased as by magic. They looked around in amazement, facing down the nullah, from which direction numbers of the fighting-men came running. These asked eagerly where the m'sungu was: they had heard his whistle; he must be among them again. But no one had seen him. Again the whistle sounded. Some of the men glanced upward, and saw Tom standing on the rock. For one moment they were transfixed with surprise; then a great shout broke from their lips; the women and children flocked around them, leaping and screaming with excitement and joy; and Tom wondered what effect the hubbub would have on the enemy waiting in the ravine.

Signalling that he would soon be with them, he returned to the spot where he had left Reinecke and Mwesa. The German gave signs of returning consciousness. In a minute or two he opened his eyes and stared dully up into Tom's face. Recollection came to him gradually; he tried to rise, his hand again seeking his revolver. The holster was empty; Mwesa had taken that weapon, and also his sword.

"You are my prisoner," said Tom. "We will now go down to my camp."

Reinecke cursed him.

"You strike a one-armed, helpless man," he said. "You treacherous hound!"

Tom was taken aback by this strange accusation. He had had so little experience of the German soldier that he did not understand that curious att.i.tude of mind which views everything a German does as right and proper, but the same thing done by others as infamous and base. The charge of treachery from the man who had trapped him, left him to die, and only a few hours before this moment had fired at him when he too had been taken unawares, struck him dumb. Then, curtly, impatiently, he said:

"Come, we will waste no time. You can walk, I think. Mwesa, lead on.

Find the way into the nullah. Follow him, Herr Reinecke: I shall be two paces behind you."

Mwesa scampered down the steep descent like a young roe: the others followed more prudently. When Tom arrived at the rock from which he had viewed the camp, Mwesa was not to be seen. But a moment later his laughing face showed round the base of the rock, like a child playing peep-bo.

"Dis way, sah," he cried; "dis way."

At one side of the rock was the top of a narrow channel that wound down the face of the cliff. So steep was this latter that not even a mountain goat could have scaled it safely; but Nature had so carved the channel that it formed a zigzag pattern, like those paths which the art of man has cut in precipitous cliffs at popular resorts on our coasts. Down this rough path the two men followed Mwesa, hidden from the sight of those below by the contour of the cliff.

About twenty feet above the ground the zig-zagging ceased, and the channel took a sheer drop, almost entirely concealed by bushes. While Tom, standing on a ledge of rock, wondered how the final descent was to be achieved, Mwesa had found the way. Clinging to the tough stems and branches of the bushes, he went down a few feet, then stopped and turned his face upward.

"Ladder here, sah," he called.

The Arab had, in fact, so bent the branches and stems, and so connected them by means of strands of creepers, as to form a light ladder that spanned the last dozen feet of the descent. Hidden by the overgrowing vegetation, it might have been pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed hundreds of times without being discovered.

Mwesa clambered down, and bounded among the excited people who had cl.u.s.tered in expectation of the m'sungu's reappearance. After a minute or two, Reinecke emerged from the foliage, and stood glowering, an image of sullen rage, upon the negroes who had once owned him master. Fingers were pointed at him, yells of derision mocked him: even the children strutted in front of him, as if to vaunt their freedom. One of the elder men stepped forward with menacing gestures: but he was checked by a stern command from Tom, who had just appeared. He was hailed with renewed shouts of triumph; some of the people threw themselves at his feet, as slaves bow to their lord. Tom's lips quivered; he felt a lump rise in his throat. Then he called to Mwesa, who was pouring out an eloquent story to the crowd surrounding him.

"Go down to the barricade," he said. "See whether the guards are at their posts, and bring Mirambo to me."

He signed to the people to fall back to their huts, and beckoned to Moses, who had been hanging on the outskirts of the crowd, looking with a somewhat nervous and sheepish air at his late master.

"Give Herr Reinecke some food," said Tom. "Herr Reinecke, you will remain where you are for the present. You cannot escape: if you make an attempt you will be shot. I will give you proper quarters presently."

The German responded with a glare of venomous hate, and turned away.

CHAPTER XVI--DRAWN BLANK

When Mirambo came up, hard on the heels of Mwesa, he too fell on his face and greeted Tom with an air of mingled humility and grat.i.tude. In the absence of the m'sungu his position had been a difficult one. The men of the hunting party had come dropping in singly and in small groups, and the story they told, magnifying the numbers of the enemy, had struck consternation and fear into the hearts of the people. If the m'sungu was gone, what would become of them? Who would tell them what to do? How could they deal with white men's war-power without a white man to help them? Some of the weaker-kneed among them had talked of fleeing from the nullah and betaking themselves to M'setu, and it had needed all Mirambo's authority to check the panic. He had reminded them of what the m'sungu had already done: how he had escaped the snares of Reinecke, quelled the German drill-sergeant with a look, led them forth with Reinecke himself a prisoner, shown them how to fortify the nullah, driven back the enemy. Surely one who had done all this would not now fall a prey to the evil men; surely he would come back to them.

Strangely enough, as Tom thought, the old chief's arguments had been strongly backed by the askaris, who, as fighting-men, were held in respect by the Wahehe. They expressed the utmost confidence that the m'sungu would return, and declared for holding the nullah at least until it was definitely known what had become of him. No doubt their motive was complicated by fear of the consequences if they fell into German hands and were treated as deserters; but Tom did not know this, and when he heard of their loyalty he abandoned his last objections, and resolved to incorporate them in his fighting force.

He listened to Mirambo's story, interpreted by Mwesa, only for a minute or two, for there was work to be done. During Mwesa's absence he had rapidly made his plans. The German askaris in the ravine above had almost certainly heard the shouts which had greeted his arrival. Their officer would send men forward to discover the meaning of the shouts, and what had happened to Reinecke and the Arab. They would no doubt move with caution, and, unfamiliar with the ground, would take some time in scouting over the rough, steep slopes, and would probably hesitate to adventure into the cleft which dropped deep into the unknown. If they came so far as to find the body of Haroun, they were more likely to hasten back with the news than to court danger or death themselves by descending lower. What action, then, would the lieutenant take? He would wish to learn his superior officer's fate, probably come down with his men, and, if he discovered the pa.s.sage into the nullah, might risk an attack.

Tom felt that he must first guard against this. Getting Mirambo to choose a dozen of the best shots, he sent them up the ladder, with orders to post themselves in the cleft behind bushes or boulders, and fire at the enemy if they appeared. Though outnumbered, with the advantage of position and surprise they could probably check the descent. In case they should be driven back, he ordered Mirambo himself to hold thirty men under cover near the margin of the lake, and at the same time to keep Reinecke under guard. Mirambo was the last man in the world to be overcome by any German blandishments.

The non-combatants--old men, women and children--must be protected from harm. He ordered them to withdraw some little distance down the nullah, out of range of fire either from above or from the ground at the foot of the cliff.

For himself, he had resolved on a venturesome, if not a risky, course.

There were still a few hours of daylight left--long enough to lead a force out of the nullah, along the foothills above, to the ravine where the enemy were encamped. The probabilities were that, met by rifle-fire as they descended the cleft, they would hesitate to press an attack against unknown numbers, and make their way back to headquarters to report the disappearance of their captain and the necessity of larger forces. Tom thought that with luck he might reach the mouth of the ravine in time to ambush them, cut them off, and capture them all. His men being only partly trained, he would need perhaps twice as many as the enemy numbered, which meant almost all the Wahehe who were able to shoot. But his new-born confidence in his askaris led him to adopt the bold course of leaving them to defend the southern end of the nullah.

It was scarcely likely that another hostile force was approaching in that direction: Reinecke had probably been confident of an easy victory through the back door. Yet nothing should be left to chance; and the defence of the barricade might be safely entrusted for a few hours to the askaris and the remnant of the Wahehe, with Mirambo and his party at hand as reinforcements in case of need.

Tom lost no time in making these arrangements, and an hour after his return he led some eighty men out through the barricade, swung round to the right, and climbed the foothills over which the course of the ravine lay.

"They'll have to carry me back," thought Tom, before he had walked a mile. "Didn't know I was so f.a.gged."

Tom, indeed, had been drawing rather heavily on his physical reserves, and to-day for the first time weariness warned him against overdoing it.

Now, more than ever, was it necessary that he should not break down, for he felt certain that the difficulties of his people were only beginning.

Having already been on his feet for eight or nine hours, he found that march of a few miles, at the close of the day, more exhausting than he would have imagined. The country was broken and hilly, now bare rock, now soft spongy ground c.u.mbered with tangled vegetation and overshadowed by forest trees. But the chance of trapping the force that had been sent to trap him sustained his spirits; and the mind can, for a time, compel the body to feats beyond its normal strength. His men, fresh, vigorous, inspirited by the return of their leader and the recapture of Reinecke, marched on with eagerness to reach their goal: their enthusiasm was itself a stimulant to him.

There was no path along those rugged, wooded foot-hills. The sun was blanketed by the rain-laden sky. It was possible only to guess their course; and Tom, seeing by his watch that little more than half-an-hour of daylight was left, began to fear that darkness would surprise him before he should have struck upon the ravine. But at this very moment of misgiving he was almost at the edge. A few yards farther brought him to a sharp declivity. He ordered his men to halt, advanced with Mwesa through the low-growing trees, and looking cautiously to right and left, beheld the long hollow that was his journey's end.

It appeared to him that he had hit the ravine at a spot half-way up its length. None of the enemy was in sight. The askaris, if they remained where he had last seen them, were probably some distance to the right; the sentries at the mouth of the ravine must be three or four hundred yards to the left. These latter must be secured if his plan was to have full success; so, returning to his men, he chose four to accompany him and Mwesa, and hastened along through the scrub near the brink of the ravine.

Scouting with circ.u.mspection, he arrived at the place where the steep sides fell to the level of the surrounding country. The sentries were not where they had been. He sent Mwesa to worm his way across under cover of the bushes and to see if he could track the men to another post. The boy returned sooner than he had expected.

"Fink all gone, sah," said he.

"The sentries, you mean?"

"All fella askaris, sah. All gone, no fear."