"Very good," agreed the Rhodesian patrol-commander. "Give the word 'Buluwayo' for the countersign. Good luck!"

Without loss of time the subaltern started on his mission of investigation. Once clear of the kraal he realised a sense of loneliness. He would have given almost all he possessed for the companionship of his trusty Bela Moshi. Then, shaking off the instinctive depression, he devoted his thoughts to the work on hand.

He was taking a different route from the one he had followed on the occasion of the capture of the machine-gun. It was unfamiliar ground, flat and totally devoid of cover. Ahead lay a line of dark shadows that marked the commencement of the encircling bush. It was only slightly over a quarter of a mile away, but the distance seemed interminable as he slowly and cautiously held on.

Once he stood stock still, his heart beating violently. Ten yards ahead a man lay p.r.o.ne on the short gra.s.s. The faint starlight glinted on the barrel of a rifle, which was pointed straight at the lone subaltern.

Momentarily Wilmshurst expected to see the blinding flash of the rifle.

The fellow was a long time lingering over the sights, he thought. The young officer moved a couple of paces to the right. The sinister muzzle seemed to be following him, tantalisingly menacing.

Acting upon a sudden impulse Wilmshurst flung himself flat on the ground. After a pause he raised his head and looked towards the sniper, for such he took him to be. The man had not stirred. His rifle was c.o.c.king upwards at an acute angle to the ground, "I believe a dead Hun has given me cold feet," muttered the subaltern, and creeping stealthily he made a wide detour round the rigidly immovable figure.

Then, satisfied up to a certain point, he crawled towards the motionless object.

It was an Askari. The man was one of the first to be shot during the onslaught. He had fallen face downwards, but still grasped his rifle in such a position that there was good reason for mistaking him for a sniper.

From this point Wilmshurst resumed his outward journey, proceeding on hands and knees and halting at frequent intervals to place his ear to the ground. He could detect no audible evidences of the foe. Never before, in the course of two separate campaigns against native troops officered by Germans, had he known such absolute silence amongst the black rank and file.

On and on he crawled, grimly soliloquising that much more of this mode of progression would make him imagine that he was a new type of serpent, for as he approached the outer fringe of scrub he literally moved on his stomach.

Proceeding thus he pa.s.sed between two large thorn bushes. Beyond was a slight artificial depression in the ground, on the bottom of which were hundreds of metal cartridge cases.

By the peculiar pungent odour he knew that they had been fired within the last twelve hours. Some were trodden into the loose earth, which bore numerous indications of having been trampled both with boots and bare feet.

"By Jove!" he thought. "Fritz has cleared out."

Even as the idea flashed across his mind a rifle-shot rang out on his left.

Promptly Wilmshurst flattened himself to the ground, and waited breathlessly for further developments. The weird silence was maintained save for the distant croaking of bullfrogs in a marsh.

"b.o.o.by trap!" he declared, and cautiously groped around to find out if he had incautiously touched a fine wire. At a radius of his extended arm he found nothing of that nature. Perhaps, after all, a sniper was concealed in the bushes on his left, for the bullet had not been directed at him.

Bent upon investigating the mystery Wilmshurst crept round the intervening bushes. Before he had traversed thirty yards his head came in contact with the stock of a rifle. The weapon was lashed to a couple of stout bamboos. Fastened to the trigger was a short piece of wire, to which in turn was tied a length of raw hide. The subaltern gave a chuckle of satisfaction. His discovery confirmed his surmise that the investing force had raised the siege, leaving rifles so arranged that they would fire automatically after various intervals in order to convey the erroneous impression that the bush was still held in force.

The raw hide cords had been placed in position during the heat of the day. After dark the heavy dew moistened the hide and caused it to contract until the tension upon the trigger was sufficient to release the bolt action and detonate the cartridges.

A similar ruse, embodying more ingenuity, had been practised by the British troops during the successful evacuation of the Gallipoli peninsula; but in this case the fixed rifles were fired by means of a small trickle of water dropping from an upper receptacle into a lower one. To the latter was tied a cord, the other end of which was fastened to the trigger. As soon as half a gallon of liquid entered the lower tin can, resulting in a pressure of about seven pounds on the trigger, the rifle was fired.

"And there are plenty of discarded tins lying about," thought Wilmshurst. "It seems strange that methodical Fritz should waste a good raw-hide thong when simpler and more efficacious means are available, unless--ah! I wonder if it was a lack of water that made them clear out?"

Wilmshurst was nothing if not thorough. Before returning with the joyful news to the kraal he meant to satisfy himself that the Huns had abandoned all their positions. It would be a bad business if, on the strength of the young officer's report, the patrol left the village and attempted to rejoin the main body only to find themselves suddenly attacked in the open by vastly numerically superior forces.

Checking his direction from time to time by means of his luminous compa.s.s Dudley penetrated nearly a mile into the bush. Everywhere there were evidences that the enemy had retired in the direction of the Karewenda Hills, while the not distant sounds of wild animals showed that the bush was clear of anything of the nature of numerous parties of human beings.

Satisfied on this point the subaltern was about to retrace his way when he heard a stealthy footfall on the dew-soddened ground within a few paces of the spot where he stood.

Softly and deliberately Wilmshurst dropped to the earth, screened by the broad leaves of a cactus. He could hardly believe the evidence of his senses when, almost within arm's length, appeared the foremost of a single file of Haussas--men not only of his own battalion but of his platoon.

CHAPTER XIX

CORNERED AT LAST

Checking the natural exuberance of his wildly delighted men Wilmshurst obtained the information that the battalion, acting in conjunction with a Punjabi infantry regiment and a couple of squadrons of Light Horse, was about to deliver a surprise attack upon the enemy. Once again the wily Hun had disappointed the British forces. By means of native scouts the Germans had learnt of the approach of the relieving forces, and without waiting to exchange shots the former had effected a prompt and skilfully-conducted retirement.

Accompanied by one of the Haussas Wilmshurst hastened to inform his commanding officer of the state of affairs. On the way he found big Spofforth with the advance-guard. The latter greeted his missing chum cordially.

"You're a lucky blighter!" he exclaimed, as he critically surveyed Dudley's ragged and dishevelled appearance. "You always manage to see some fun. Here are we, after two days' hard marching, sold completely, and not a chance to fire a shot. Well, what have you been doing?"

"I'll tell you later," replied Wilmshurst. "I must report to the C.O.

Briefly, we've missed von Gobendorff, but we've had one of the toughest little sc.r.a.ps I've ever experienced."

Colonel Quarrier was both delighted and disappointed with his junior officer's report. His satisfaction at the news of the successful defence of the kraal was unbounded; but his brow darkened when he learnt of the escape of Ulrich von Gobendorff.

"We heard from native sources that you were in a tight corner, Mr.

Wilmshurst," he remarked in conclusion. "How the news got through in so short a time is one of those unsolved mysteries appertaining to the inhabitants of Central Africa. We pushed ahead with a column hoping to catch Fritz sitting; but we were done. Well, ought you to rejoin your temporary unit? If you prefer you can remain till dawn, for I do not intend to move further till then. We don't want any exchange of shots by mistake."

"I'll return, sir," replied the subaltern. "The men will be bucked to hear the good news. I shouldn't wonder if they aren't getting a bit anxious, for I was due back an hour ago."

Without mishap the subaltern traversed the intervening stretch of scrub, crossed the open s.p.a.ce and gained the kraal, where, as he had expected, the good news was hailed with enthusiasm. For the first time since the investment of the village the defenders were able to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' undisturbed sleep unaccompanied by the intermittent reports of rifles and the constant expectation of being called to arms.

Dawn was breaking when a squadron of Rhodesian Light Horse cantered up to the bullet-torn stockade, their arrival being hailed with three cheers by the undaunted patrol and a deafening clamour from the natives, who had played no inconspicuous part in the defence of the kraal. Twenty minutes later the Waffs marched in, followed by an Indian battalion, which bivouacked in the open.

"Here we remain--so the C.O. says," declared Danvers, as the four platoon-commanders of "A" Company gathered together in a native hut temporarily converted into the mess. "It's a step nearer the Karewenda Hills, and there, according to accounts, Fritz will make a last stand."

"Unless he prefers Cape Town," added Spofforth, and the five officers laughed at the jest. "As things are going it reminds me of that kid's game 'Ring-a-ring-o'-Roses'--simply barging round and round and getting no forrarder."

"Dashed smart chap that servant of yours, Wilmshurst," remarked Laxdale, after the subaltern had related the story of Bela Moshi's devotion. "And how is he progressing?"

"Splendidly, according to Dr. Barkley's latest report," replied Dudley.

"If any fellow deserves the D.C.M. it's he."

"And a little bird whispered to me," continued Laxdale, "that a certain member of the antient and accepted order of the Lone Star Crush did a jolly risky thing--fetching water under enemy fire."

Wilmshurst coloured hotly.

"Rot!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Fritz couldn't see me. They were putting up a lot of small arms ammunition, of course. No, that's nothing; almost forgot about it, in fact."

But if Wilmshurst had dismissed the incident from his mind the water had not forgotten him. The poisonous germs in the non-filtered liquid were doing their lethal work, and that evening the subaltern was down with a severe bout of malaria.

In a covered dhoolie Wilmshurst was sent down to a hospital base-camp.

With him went Rupert, who, on the setting in of the reaction following his release, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Within a couple of months Dudley was back with his battalion. Many times he bitterly reproached himself for being out of action for that period simply because he did not exercise sufficient restraint when he drank the tainted water. He realised that he alone was to blame, while most of the trouble fell upon the shoulders of his brother platoon-commanders, who already had their full share of work and responsibility.

He found the battalion at a place twenty miles further away from the Karewenda Hills than the kraal where he had played so conspicuous a part in its defence.

"You needn't have been so rattled about it, old boy," declared Spofforth. "You've missed none of the fun, for the simple reason that there hasn't been any. A fortnight ago we were within sight of Twashi.