Tom had a certain advantage in the mobility of his force. Never more than a day's march from a food-supply, he was able to dispense with the greater part of his carriers; for his troops were able to take with them sufficient for their immediate needs. Retaining only one thousand carriers to bring up supplies from the large redoubt, he employed the rest in a.s.sisting the troops to fell trees and build abattis at various defensible points along the route.

He found, however, that after deducting the troops left behind in the village, and the garrisons of the redoubts, he had scarcely more than two thousand five hundred men to meet the Arab advance. The question was, how to dispose of this force to the best advantage. Learning from the couriers at the end of the third day's march that he had come within ten miles of the head of the Arab army, he halted at a particularly dense part of the forest, and proceeded, at a distance of some fifty yards from the track, to cut a path a mile and a half long parallel to it. Darkness was falling, the Arabs would certainly halt for the night, and by employing all his men he hoped to complete the clearing of the new road by the morning. At the same time he built a stockade of trees masked with shrubs at the southern end of the main track. His plan was to arrest the enemy by the stockade, which was so artfully located at a slight bend in the path that it could not be seen until they were within a yard of it, and then to attack them in flank from the bush. By cutting the parallel road he had made it possible for his men to move up and down at will over a length of a mile and a half, and to choose the best positions for pouring in their fire upon the surprised and congested enemy. The task was completed long before dawn, and there was time for the whole force to s.n.a.t.c.h a little much-needed sleep before the hard work that might be expected on the following day.

A year before, Tom would have found it difficult, almost impossible, to realize what forest fighting meant. Here he was in an immense forest, stocked with trees from one hundred to two hundred feet high, their dense foliage interlocked overhead, the gaps between them filled with an undergrowth of matted bush, rubber shrubs, creepers, and dwarf-palms, so thick that the eye could never penetrate more than twenty yards at the farthest. The path was a mere foot-track, along which it was only possible to march in single file. At some points, where the soil was soft, the path had in the course of generations been worn down to a lower level, and seemed like a railway cutting between high banks of dead leaves and debris. At other points it wound round a fallen tree, no one having taken the trouble to remove the obstruction. Here and there, too, great festoons of monkey-ropes, mingled with orchid blossoms, hung from tree to tree across the track, so thick that progress was impossible until they had been lopped down with knives and axes.

Tom, as he lay on the bank to rest, felt the oppression of the confined s.p.a.ce even more than he had felt it during his previous wandering through the forest. The recent rains had caused a rank smell to rise from the decaying vegetable matter all around him, and he would not allow himself to think of the ever-present dangers of malaria. The night was cold. Not wishing the enemy to discover his position or the positions of his men, he had given orders that no fires were to be lighted, and, but for the cloth which Mbutu had brought by his instructions, he would have shivered all night long, and in all probability been prostrated with racking pains in the limbs. As it was, he rose from his brief sleep cold and hungry, but feeling ready for anything, and indeed anxious to meet the long-looked-for enemy at last.

After a breakfast of bananas and potato-bread, he sent messengers forward to instruct the skirmishers and scouts to fall back. He thought that if the hara.s.sing attacks ceased for a whole day, the Arabs might conclude that their enemy had become disheartened, and might thereby be tempted to relax their vigilance.

At the farther end of the newly-made parallel track there was a large tree, which, dominating the intervening s.p.a.ce and overlooking the main path, provided a convenient refuge from which it was possible to obtain a good idea of the strength and composition of the enemy's force as it came in sight. Tom found that he could easily climb the tree to such a height that, while secure from observation himself, he could act as his own intelligence officer and not have to trust to the magnifying eyes of his men. If the Arabs were ten miles away the day before, he concluded that it would probably take them the whole day to reach this point, the forest being dense, and the path obstructed in many places by the encroaching bush. He knew that his men would not be very willing to fight during the night, and there seemed every likelihood that the action would not begin until the next day. It turned out according to his expectation. The Arabs, after the hara.s.sing movements of their enemy on the previous days, had evidently resolved to take advantage of the lull to enjoy a thorough rest, for the whole day went by without a sign of them. Tom again camped with his men for the night, placing sentries for several hundred yards along the path to prevent anything in the nature of a surprise.

He was up with the dawn again, and sent forward a few scouts to reconnoitre. These returned by and by, and reported that the enemy had marched forward only three miles the previous day, and were now about seven miles away. Being anxious that they should be surprised as completely as possible, Tom refrained from sending forward many scouts, lest some incautious action should give the Arabs warning. In the afternoon, judging that the force must be drawing near, he placed some seventeen hundred men along the parallel road, and eight hundred behind the stockade, ordering the musketeers among the latter not to fire until they were actually attacked, or until they heard firing in their front.

About three o'clock he sent forward two Bairo to ascertain the distance of the enemy, and climbed into his crow's-nest in the tree. Suddenly, in the silence of the forest, a shot rang out. "One of my scouts. .h.i.t, I'm afraid," said Tom to himself. The waiting warriors stood in an att.i.tude of tense expectancy, every man gripping his weapon, and leaning forward in readiness to move in whatever direction he was ordered. Half an hour pa.s.sed, and then one of the scouts came swiftly down the path, emerging as it were from a curtain of green. Tom, looking at him, saw fear in his face. His eyes were standing out of his head, his features twitching as though pulled by some unseen string; he was shaking like an aspen. "This won't do," thought Tom; "that fellow will scare the rest."

He slipped down the tree, and met the man before he had been seen by any of his comrades. Laying a firm hand on his shoulder, he bade him tell his news. The man collapsed in a limp knot on the ground, and with many a spluttering stumble explained that as he and his mate were creeping along in the bush beside the path, a shot had come from who knows where, and his companion had fallen dead beside him.

"How far ahead was this?"

"Master, how should I know when fear came rustling behind me? I ran, master; my feet carried me as on the wind."

"Where are the enemy?"

"In the bush, master, tens upon tens of them. But I saw none of them; no, I saw nothing but the smoke of the fire-stick in the forest. I am very sick, master, and my old father lies sick at home. Will the master let me go and nurse him?"

Tom sternly bade the man climb the tree before him and hide in the foliage. "Good heavens!" he thought, "if they all turn out like this coward!" But he refused to harbour such a thought, remembering their conduct during the siege. He climbed the tree after the man, waited some twenty minutes, and then saw, fifty yards away among the trees, the head of the Arab column coming slowly along the path. The way was led by half a dozen stalwart Arabs armed with rifles, walking warily, looking right and left for signs of the enemy. They pa.s.sed, and were followed by fifty Manyema armed with rifles and axes; beyond these he could not see.

They came cautiously along; they pa.s.sed down the main path, silently, watchfully, but without throwing out skirmishers. There was a gap of two hundred yards, and then came the main column of Manyema, armed for the most part with spears. They were marching close behind one another, and Tom's plan was to allow them to occupy the mile and a half on the main track between his tree and the stockade, and then to fall upon them while crowded into this narrow tunnel through the forest. He counted fourteen hundred of the Manyema; there was another gap; then, just as the head of the force of turbaned Arabs was emerging into view, armed with rifles and pistols of various make, a shot from the direction of the stockade announced that the obstacle had been discovered. Dropping from his perch, Tom gave the long-awaited signal to his men waiting in ambush, and an irregular fire broke out down the line of men scattered under cover along the parallel track. The musketeers numbered only about two hundred in all, but Tom reckoned on the surprise counting for a good deal, and the puffs of smoke leaping out from the brushwood at various points, with the clash of explosions, and the demoralizing effect of the hand-grenades, impressed the startled Arabs with the idea that a much larger force than their own was opposed to them.

The surprise was complete. Met by a musket-fire and a discharge of spears and arrows from behind the stockade, the Manyema could not advance; on their left flank there was evidently a well-armed force in ambush; on their right was thick forest, in which they could only find shelter by cutting a way. They halted irresolutely, seeking cover wherever they could. Slugs whizzed through the air and slapped against the trees; the firing of bullets was heard as the rifle-armed Manyema fired erratically at their invisible enemy. But after the first shock they pulled themselves together, and soon realized that they possessed better weapons than their adversaries. They began to move forward again towards the stockade, and Tom, pa.s.sing down the line, saw that it was time to strike home. Ordering his men on the path to stand firm, he hurried to the stockade, upon which the Manyema had not as yet ventured to make a serious attack. He instructed a party of the musketeers to keep up a steady fire so long as there was no danger of hitting their friends; then, placing himself at the head of the remainder, he led them round the left of the position, and, forcing his way through the thinnest part of the scrub, with a cheer charged down upon the Arab column. The Bahima followed him, raising their sonorous battle-cry. This was too much for the already demoralized enemy. Finding themselves attacked both in their front and on their flanks, the Manyema lost heart, and, turning their backs, began to push along the path in full retreat.

This was a signal to the force on the parallel path to re-double their fire; slugs, grenades, spears, and arrows, fell thick and fast; the Manyema quickened their pace, and, with no thought now of attempting to defend themselves, crowded and jostled one another in their eagerness to flee. Back they ran, higgledy-piggledy, into the Arabs, who were hastening in the other direction to join in the fray, ignorant of what had been going on. The two columns thus meeting brought each other to a halt; but the Manyema behind, goaded now to frenzy, pushed on regardless of their comrades, until soon there was a struggling heap obstructing the narrow path. The panic was communicated to the Arabs, who, after firing a few wild shots, some of which found billets in their own men, turned about and led the flight. Now the Bahima, with savage yells, came pouring out of the forest on to the main path. Every yell had a note of triumph, a tone almost of reckless gaiety, as the men pierced and hacked among the panic-stricken foe. The enemy had by this time fairly taken to their heels, bolting along the narrow track like scared rabbits, impeding each other's movements, trampling dead and wounded ruthlessly underfoot. On and on pressed the Bahima, springing across fallen bodies, heedless of their own wounds, carrying the pursuit for miles, until they found themselves checked by a reserve of Arabs strongly posted in a clearing which had been chosen as the camping-place for their baggage and carriers. Tom, who was foremost among his men, now ordered the recall. Some of his more headstrong warriors did not hear or neglected to obey the signal, and fell victims to their own recklessness.

Hurrying back to the stockade, Tom left five hundred men there to dispute the Arab advance, with orders to hold the position as long as possible, but to retire if they were hard pressed. It was now dusk. No further attack was likely until the dawn, and Tom decided to retire five miles along the path to a position he had previously noted as offering great advantages for defence. It was the river he had crossed during his second day's march. Apparently this was fordable only at the one spot, and the steep shelving bank, itself strongly in favour of defenders posted at the top, could be made doubly formidable by means of a stockade. After fording the river on the rocks, the enemy would have to clamber diagonally up the bank by the path Tom's men had cut, as the undergrowth was too thick to allow of an easier path being made under a determined fire. The bank, muddy and slippery at any time of flood, had been rendered doubly difficult by the recent pa.s.sage of so many men. A few feet beyond its top, therefore, on the level ground, Tom set his men to build a strong stockade across the path, with a total length of some thirty feet, and curved inwards at each end in order to permit of a flanking fire. The large number of active men employed soon felled enough trees for the purpose; they were split into lengths of about six feet, and planted in the ground close to one another, with transverse logs lashed to them with rough rope, and every interstice filled up with earth and rubbish. It was so placed that a defending force could dominate the whole width of the river, and Tom felt pretty sure that one man within the stockade was fully equal to half a dozen without. The advantage of the position was still further increased by the fact that it was out of sight from the opposite bank, for Tom was careful to leave the intervening scrub untouched, so that it formed an opaque screen.

The stockade having been completed in a thoroughly workmanlike manner by the afternoon of the next day, Tom sent orders to the men he had left farther in the forest to retire as rapidly as possible upon this new defensive position, where he intended to make a serious stand. There was always the chance that the Arabs, finding the direct road blocked, would attempt to get through by cutting another path, but Tom hoped that any such move would not escape observation, and that the time consumed in cutting the new path would enable him to fall back and prepare for meeting the attack elsewhere.

His calculations were rudely disturbed. A few hours after his messengers left he received astonishing news from his base. He was sitting by the stockade, enjoying a well-earned rest and a meal, when a Muhima came panting up from the direction of the village, and threw himself on the ground with respectful greeting. Rising at Tom's order, he reported that he had a message from the katikiro; that he had run until his heart was jumping in his throat and his legs were like running water. What was the message? Oh! it was that the katikiro was sending eight hundred men to the burning mountain, as Kuboko had ordered, to remain there until Kuboko came to them. He would do anything that Kuboko bade him, especially as he had Kuboko's mark; but he entreated Kuboko to remember that his force, bereft of eight hundred men, was now so weak that he could not keep an enemy out of the village. The eight hundred would start in three cookings after the messenger left, and the katikiro hoped that Kuboko would be pleased with him.

Tom was thunderstruck. Eight hundred men to the burning mountain, to start in three hours! What could it mean? There was a terrible mistake somewhere, but how could Msala have made such a mistake after the clear instructions given him? He was not to move a man from the village unless he received a direct order, accompanied by a leaf from the notebook, with a pencilled diagram that was to be the indispensable guarantee of the genuineness of the message. No such order had been sent. Tom cudgelled his brains vainly for an explanation. The message could not have originated with his own force, for if any of his lieutenants had taken fright he would have asked for reinforcements and not sent the eight hundred to the volcano, twenty miles on the other side of the village. Could an enemy be approaching in that direction?

But the katikiro's messenger had distinctly said that the order had been received from Kuboko. Tom puzzled and puzzled, canva.s.sing every possible solution of the mystery. The thought suddenly flashed into his mind: Could there be foul play somewhere? Was it no mistake of the katikiro's, but a deliberate plot to denude the village of its garrison, and hand it over to the enemy? Surely a flanking movement could not already have been effected without his knowing it? Good heavens! was the smiling Msala a villain? It was difficult to think so, for he had been Tom's strongest and most faithful helper. The suspicion was dismissed at once. Then he must be the victim of a ruse. That was just as difficult to understand. The man had spoken of Kuboko's mark. The katikiro must, then, have received a paper with the diagram drawn upon it. No one else, so far as Tom knew, had seen the mark. Had Msala lost the paper given him? Had someone discovered the meaning of it and used it for a treacherous end? There could hardly be a second leaf, for the only paper among them all was contained in Tom's pocket-book. Stay! He took out his pocket-book and turned over the leaves. It struck him that someone might have tampered with it. It was to all appearance intact.

He ran over the leaves rapidly in the opposite direction. There should be a loose leaf corresponding to that which had been torn out to give Msala. Where was that? He searched for it with growing uneasiness; held the book by its back and shook it violently. No loose leaf fell; it was gone! The book shut with a clasp, so that it was impossible that the odd leaf had fallen out of itself. It must have been abstracted.

Someone had played him false!

With Tom thought and action went together.

"Who brought the message to the katikiro before you started?" he asked.

"Mkinga," said the man. "Mkinga came first. He came to the village and spoke to the katikiro; he talked a long time, and gave the katikiro a piece of white rag. I was by, for I am the katikiro's servant, and I saw, and I know that I speak the truth. Yes, he talked to the katikiro, and the katikiro held out the white rag and frowned, and asked Mkinga where Kuboko was, and all that had happened, and Mkinga told him, and the katikiro said: 'It is well,' and bade Mkinga go back to Kuboko and say that his servant the katikiro would obey his lord's bidding, and knew his lord's mark on the white rag."

"Mkinga!" exclaimed Tom. "Was there a man named Mkinga among our troops, Mbutu?"

"Yes, sah. Mkinga lazy man, sah; no work, no do nuffin; grumble, grumble all time, sah."

"Where is he now then?"

"Said him sick, sah; him no fight; no, no; him go home and nurse pickin."

"Ah! And what was he in the village? I don't remember the man."

"Him fink him medicine-man, sah; go pick gra.s.s for Mabruki; make Mabruki him medicine; oh yes! I know dat."

"Was the medicine-man near when Mkinga arrived in the village?" asked Tom of the messenger.

"Oh yes! The katikiro talked to the medicine-man, and showed him another bit of white rag like the bit Mkinga brought, and after they talked Mkinga was sent back."

"You say the man disappeared, Mbutu. Has he been seen since?"

"No, sah."

"Ah! That will do, my man; go and get food. Mabruki is at some mischief, Mbutu," he added. "There's a plot to betray the village. Get together a hundred and fifty of the best pikemen and a hundred and fifty musketeers, also two hundred spearmen; all strong active men, men who have had a good meal and can be trusted. Tell them that in the time it takes to cook a pot they will start for the village with me. You understand?"

"Yes, sah;" and Mbutu went away to fulfil his errand.

Tom's mind had been made up instantly. The village was evidently to be betrayed from within, and in all probability there was an enemy now outside the gates. The only chance of saving it was to return himself with all speed, and take the enemy unawares. He could not stop to consider who he could be, or how he could have so strangely outflanked him; the only question was whether in any case it was possible to reach the village in time. It was thirty miles away, and fifteen of these were in the forest, where marching must necessarily be slow. But the attempt must be made; he must reach the village at all costs as early next day as possible, and could only hope that the enemy would not have actually entered the place, or that the katikiro, discovering the treachery, would be able, in spite of his diminished force, to hold his own until reinforcements arrived.

Within an hour Mbutu had the force of five hundred picked men in readiness to set out. Their success against the Arabs had so inspirited them that they were exulting in the prospect of another victory under the leadership of the great Kuboko. Mbutu, using his own judgment, had told them nothing of the long night's march before them, so that they might start in the same spirit of confidence and enthusiasm. It was dark, but the moon was rising, and by its light filtering through the tree-tops Tom quickly scanned the force, and was pleased to see how eager and how fit they were. Then he sent for the princ.i.p.al chief among the men who were to be left behind.

"My brother," he said, "I am going to leave you for a time. There is nothing to fear; a small force of Arabs is showing itself insolently outside the gates of Mwonga, and I go to scatter it to the winds. Now I leave you here in command. I trust you. You are to hold this stockade.

If the enemy appear, you know what to do. Let them get to the very edge of the river, yes, even into the river itself, and then fire at them, launch your spears at them, and prevent them from reaching this bank.

Keep well behind the stockade and they will not see you, so that you will be able to do much damage among them, while they are powerless to hurt you. The post is a strong one; you must hold it at all costs. You must have confidence in me, as I have in you. You have seen what we have been able to do already; though I am not here, fight as though you saw my face and heard my voice, and all will be well. If you find that the enemy is too strong to be withstood, defend the stockade as long as possible, and then retire, but slowly, and fighting all the way."

The chief replied that he would obey his lord Kuboko in all things, and fight like an elephant at bay. Tom then impressed on the minor chiefs that they must give willing support to the head. Their loyalty to himself had already enabled them to strike a severe blow at the enemy, and from this they should learn the value of union against the invader.

He reminded them how one spear was easily broken, while a bundle resisted all efforts; and with a final exhortation to act as became brave and loyal men he started with Mbutu and his troops. He looked at his watch; it was just midnight.

That march lived long in Tom's memory. Around him was the vast darkness, occasionally broken by the wan moonlight piercing the roof of foliage. The air was damp and chill, permeated by the sickly odour of decay. Tom walked at the head of his men with one of the best of his scouts, pressing on until he felt as though he were in a dream, his movements mechanical, requiring no effort, his feet seeming to find their way over obstacles without any volition of his, his mind busy all the time with other things. The pace was slow, for the path could rarely be seen, hemmed in by giant trees, underwood, and thorn. On and on the men tramped in silence, their bare feet making a curious swishing sound on the sodden mould. There were narrow streams to be forded, switchback hills to mount and descend; in some parts the path was slippery, and every step forward seemed to be followed by a longer slip back. Still he tramped on doggedly, his heart beating like a hammer against his ribs, the men panting aloud, uttering a sharp exclamation sometimes when they struck their bare feet against the knotted roots of a tree, or dodged a thorn too late to prevent their faces from being scratched and torn. On and on, with never a pause, till at nine in the morning the band reached the edge of the forest, and saw the wide scrub-dotted plain stretching in front of them.

For just five minutes Tom allowed the men to lie flat on the ground to rest; then up again. They were terribly f.a.gged; the fighting and marching of the previous days, followed by the building of the stockade, had told on them all. But there was no time to spare for a protracted rest. Only half of the journey was yet accomplished, and the remainder of it must be done at a quicker pace. Walking was easier now that the forest was left behind, but the easiness of the path only incited Tom to quicken the pace, so that a still greater demand was made on the tired negroes. They plodded on doggedly, several falling out dead-beat, the rest following their leader with starting eyes and every muscle of their legs racked with cramp. At each of the block-houses, as the column pa.s.sed, the Bahima in charge came out to meet Tom and received his instructions for signalling news. There was no halt at any of these places; Tom gave his orders on the march. On and on went the column till at mid-day it arrived at a clump of wood three miles from the village, and there Tom bade them lie down in concealment and rest, while he sent forward Mboda, Mbutu's brother, with a scout to find out what was going on. They were not to go into the village; indeed, they were to keep out of sight from its stockade, for the enemy might even now be in possession of it, and in that case must know nothing of the presence of a relieving force.

At four o'clock Mboda returned with the news that an hour before they had seen a large Arab force halt at a spot about a mile to the west of the village, and make preparations for camping. It had but just arrived, coming from the setting sun. Tired as he was, Tom saw that his best course now was to make a reconnaissance in person and discover for himself what was in the wind.

He had had nearly three hours' rest during the absence of the scouts, but no food except a few bananas, for he would not allow the men to light fires for cooking. Feeling stiff and sore and hungry, he started alone, and made a long circuit round the eastern and southern sides of the village, being careful not to approach too close to it, and ever on the alert to avoid any natives who might be in the neighbourhood. He walked as quickly as he could, so as to come within sight of the Arab encampment before dark. After a tramp of nearly six miles, the last two of which had been a gradual ascent, he found himself, on emerging from a clump of bush, within a mile of the camp, which had been placed very conveniently in a slight hollow. Even at this distance he could see that it was a regular encampment and not a mere halting-place, and he threw himself down behind a bush, and with his head propped on his arms surveyed the scene.

"There's a plot, that's pretty certain," his thoughts ran. "The question is, are these men outside the village concerned in the plot which sent eight hundred of the garrison on a wild-goose chase to the volcano? If so, their only aim must surely be the capture of the village. Then why don't they attack? It's a big camp; there must be a big crowd of Arabs there, and Msala has only about two hundred fighting-men to defend that enormous circ.u.mference. They must know that, if they're in the plot.

And there's always the chance that the eight hundred will come back.

Perhaps the Arabs are tired out with their day's march, and want time to recuperate. Or are they going to make a night attack? Last time they attacked at dawn, their usual custom. I wonder if they've taken a leaf out of my book, and think that as I routed them at night, they'll turn the tables and storm the village under cover of darkness? One thing is clear: they expect to have to fight, or they'd have marched straight in, and that they haven't is a proof that I was right in believing the katikiro to be loyal. Now, what's my next move? I should dearly like to see a little more closely into their camp; how can I manage it?"

He looked about him. The bush dotting the ground was quite insufficient to hide him continuously from the eyes of a sharp sentry. On the other hand, if he waited until dark he would probably fail to see much, and in any case that course would delay his return to his men, and perhaps make it too late to do anything to frustrate a night attack on the village.

Wondering what was to be done, as he moved to the left his eye caught a narrow watercourse zig-zagging down the sloping ground in the direction of the camp. He remembered it well now, though for the moment it had slipped from his memory. The banks were steep, and the water shallow, so that he felt sure he could creep down to within a few hundred yards of the camp without being seen, provided no one came to the brook for water and that no sentries were posted outside. He decided to risk it, trusting to hide, if necessary, at one of the many windings made by the stream. Creeping along, with every care that no splash or rolling stone should betray him, he arrived safely within three hundred yards of the camp, and then, cautiously raising his head, he peered over the bank.

There were only two sentries on this side of the camp. The nearest, some two hundred yards away on the right, was leaning, as if half-asleep, on the stock of his musket; the other, half as far again to the left, had made himself comfortable in the fork of a fallen tree. It was evident that the Arab leader was either extraordinarily self-confident or convinced that he had no opposition to fear.