"Where am I to find you?" asked de Costa.

"Here," said Crouch. "There are only seven of us, and we can't spare a man. We shall need every rifle we've got to capture the stockade."

"I will do my best," said de Costa.

"I trust you will," said Crouch. Then, his face lit up, and his only eye looked the half-caste through and through. "By Christopher," said he, "if you fail me, I'll hunt you down! All Africa won't be big enough to hold you. I'll search the country from the Zambesi to the desert, and I'll find you in the end."

He said these words with his teeth clenched, and his great chin thrust forward. The little half-caste quailed before his glance.

It was then that there came a burst of firing from the north. Crouch stiffened in every limb.

"There!" he cried, "the band's begun to play."

Max followed him for a little distance, then remembered that he had left his rifle on the hill-top. De Costa looked about him, bewildered.

Events had happened in such swift succession that he felt that the whole thing might prove a dream from which he would presently awaken. Then he called the slaves together. They obeyed his word from force of habit; and though there was nothing now to prevent them taking to the hills, they followed him meekly into the kraal.

CHAPTER XIX--THE PHANTOM CANOE

That firing was the beginning of the siege of the stockade of Makanda, which lasted for seven days. Edward Harden had approached too near, and had drawn fire from the Arabs who manned the walls. The firing was answered by the Fans, who were somewhat over-eager to try their new-found strength. Shots were exchanged until nightfall, when the three Englishmen gathered together to discuss their plan of campaign.

They had every reason to believe that Caesar himself had been put out of action--at least for a day or so. As far as they knew, the garrison consisted of six or seven Arabs. The two sides were therefore equal in strength, but the advantage lay with the defenders, who were strongly entrenched, whereas the attackers had no cover nearer than the hills.

They knew that the stockade was well provisioned, and it would take months for the garrison to be starved into submission. Their only chance was to take the stockade by a.s.sault, and this would be by no means easy to do.

They could not hope to succeed by day: a surprise would be out of the question. They would have to advance across the sandy plain that enclosed the sh.o.r.es of the lake, and they would be shot down, one after the other, from the loop-holes in the stockade. Their only chance was to a.s.sault the place by night.

That evening they could do nothing. Crouch and the four Fans remained to keep a watchful eye on the garrison, while Max and his uncle betook themselves to the kraal, to render what aid they could to the cholera patients.

A few hours before daybreak de Costa set out for the mountain, with strict injunctions to return as quickly as possible. It had taken a whole night for the slaves to realize that they had gained their freedom, and then, out of the grat.i.tude in their hearts, they readily volunteered to act as carriers to the white men whenever their services should be required.

For three days no a.s.sault was delivered. The Englishmen and the Fans confined their energies by day to desultory shooting from the crest-line of the hills. By night they closed in upon the stockade, to see that Caesar made no attempt to escape. Throughout these days most of Max's time was taken up in fighting a far more formidable foe than a handful of Arabs and a wounded Portuguese. With the aid of the few disinfectants and medicines which Edward had brought from the Pambala village, he did his best to stamp the cholera out. Those who had died were buried, and their clothing burnt. The remaining slaves, who had not followed de Costa, were removed from the kraal and taken to a place in the hills, where they were told to wait the issue of the siege. A few deserted to their homes, for they were ignorant people, and had learnt by bitter experience not to trust the white man. However, the majority stayed at Makanda, conscious of the debt they owed to the two Hardens and to Crouch.

It was on the third night that Max decided to burn the kraal to the ground. Great flames rose high into the air and illumined the crater through which the Hidden River flowed swiftly on its course.

As the kraal burned the slaves upon the hill-top danced and sang. They beheld in the spreading fire the burning of their bondage. To them the red glow that filled the valley and made the barren slopes of the granite hills stand forth in the night like peaks in fairyland, was the dawn of happier days. And Max, too, was light of heart. He believed that that fire would stamp out the pestilence once and for all.

Early in the afternoon on the following day de Costa arrived from the mountain. He had remained faithful to his promise. Only three slaves had deserted on the march, and the others were told to join the refugee camp which had sprung up upon the hill. De Costa was to remain in charge of the liberated slaves. The majority were Pambalas from the district, but several had been brought from so far away that they knew not how to find their way back to their homes.

That night Crouch and Edward decided to attack. They had now a large supply of ammunition, and Max, who had finished his duties as doctor, was free to take his place in the ranks.

Max and M'Wane approached the stockade along the river bank from the south, Crouch and another Fan from the north, whereas Edward and the two others descended from the hills.

There was no moon when they crept upon the garrison from three sides at once, moving cautiously forward on hands and knees through the sand.

When about fifty paces distant, each party lay still and listened for the signal to a.s.sault. This was to come from Crouch, who could imitate to the life the jackal's howl.

Max and M'Wane, lying close as hares, waited for the signal to come.

They could hear the wild beasts in the jungle, and now and again a faint, piercing cry, as some animal was seized in the strong jaws of a leopard or a lion. The great cats were hunting like the white men who surrounded the stockade.

Then the long-drawn howl of a jackal was lifted in the night, and at that those seven men sprang to their feet and rushed upon the defence.

The Arabs had been warned. On the instant fire flashed from the loop-holes. The night was alive with the whistling of bullets, which dived into the water of the river or flew into the forest to send little leaves fluttering to the ground, or buried themselves in the trunks of gigantic trees.

On the east Edward was driven back. Before he reached the ditch one of his men had been wounded, and there he found it would be certain death to endeavour to scale the stockade.

Max and Crouch on the other side were more successful. It was the former who was the first to reach the gate, and endeavour to force it open. The man who was there on guard put his shoulder to the business, and for a few seconds a struggle took place the issue of which was doubtful.

At one time Max had the door ajar, but the man or men on the other side forced it back inch by inch until it was nearly closed. It was then that M'Wane came to Max's a.s.sistance; and immediately after, the opening in the door grew wider by degrees.

Had this affair been fought to a finish, it is beyond question that Max and M'Wane would have gained the fort, but it was at this moment that the unexpected occurred. A rapid burst of firing came from the river, from the northern extremity of the lake. A stream of bullets flew past, and many splintered the woodwork of the gate which had been the bone of contention from the first.

To be attacked by night unexpectedly from the rear is an ordeal which the finest trained soldiers in the world find it difficult to stand. It was too much for the Fans. Even M'Wane, who was as brave a savage as any who ever roamed the gra.s.sland west of the Lakes, turned on his heels and bolted.

Max turned round, and on the instant the gate of the stockade was closed. He had no alternative but to retire, and even that much had to be accomplished between two withering fires. Five minutes later there was silence in the valley. The a.s.sault had been repulsed.

It seemed, indeed, as if this river would hold its mysteries to the end.

They had heard weird legends of the Fire-G.o.ds from savage lips, dressed up in all the blandishments of fancy. They had thought the problem solved in the slave gangs and ruby mine, but here was another mystery unsolved.

While Max was engaged in his struggle at the gate, the sharp eye of Captain Crouch had seen a long canoe glide out from the darkness where the river penetrated the jungle. Before he had had time to give warning of its approach, the occupants of the canoe had opened fire. When he was asked to explain it, Crouch could not do so. They knew the course of the river from the Makanda to the rapids. The canoe could be nothing but a phantom. At daybreak no sign of it was to be seen.

At first their suspicions rested upon the unfortunate de Costa. But they discovered from the natives that that night the half-caste had not left the refugee camp; indeed, he had actually been seen asleep whilst the a.s.sault was in progress. The natives had nothing to gain by defending a man who so recently had been one of their tyrants; and besides, it was not in the nature of de Costa's disposition to conduct a daring attack at dead of night.

Throughout that day they kept a watchful eye upon the stockade.

Everything appeared as usual. They could see the white-robed Arabs moving about between the huts, and they subjected these to long-range rifle-fire from the hills. Caesar's yellow flag still floated on the wind from the flagstaff before his hut.

The three Englishmen went about their business--cleaning their rifles, cooking, or attending to the wounded Fan--sullenly, as if ill-pleased with the world in general, speaking only when spoken to, and then in monosyllables.

The truth was not one of them liked to own that they had been worsted.

Their attack had proved unsuccessful. That in itself was sufficiently annoying; but, what made matters worse, was the fact that they could not explain how the catastrophe had come about.

An hour before sundown they sat in silence at their evening meal. They were obliged to feed thus early, because it was necessary that at nightfall they should take their places around the stockade to prevent the Arabs breaking out in the night. The little sleep they got in those days they were obliged to take by day, when it sufficed for one of their number to watch the enemy's movements in the stockade.

Suddenly Crouch drove the knife with which he had been eating into the earth.

"I can't make it out!" he cried. "I'll give credit where it's due; the man 's clever as a monkey. What do you say?" he broke out in a different tone of voice. "Shall we attack again to-night?"

"Yes," said Edward; "certainly."

That was the way in which the mind of the big man worked. He thought in monosyllables. He was not like Crouch, who had a thousand reasons for everything, who was always eager to explain. With Edward Harden it was either Yes or No, and generally the former.

"Look here," said Max, "I propose we go about it in another manner. Last time I undertook to reconnoitre the enemy's position I made a fool of myself, and was captured."

"You did very well," said Edward.

"I don't think so," said his nephew. "At any rate, with your permission, I should like to try again. I suggest that we surround the stockade as we did last night, but that I am allowed to go forward alone. After all, I'm the youngest and most active of the party, if we exclude M'Wane and his friends. I believe I can creep up to the wall without being heard. I am sure I can vault the stockade. As soon as I am inside I will fire at the first man I see, and when you hear that shot you must endeavour to rush the gate."