He opened and closed his fingers of both hands four times, meaning that the hostile post consisted of five Germans and forty native troops.

"They saw you?" asked the subaltern.

"Dem no look," replied the sergeant. "Too much busy make eat."

"How far away?"

"One tousand yards, sah," declared Bela Moshi.

Writing his report on a leaf of his pocketbook Wilmshurst gave the paper to Tari Barl with instructions to deliver it to the company commander.

Quickly the major's reply was received. The hostile post was to be surrounded, but no action taken until the order was given for the concentrated rush upon the Huns holding the kopje.

As rapidly as due caution allowed the enveloping of the outpost was completed. From his new position, less than four hundred yards from the spot where the unsuspecting Huns were bivouacking, Wilmshurst could keep them under close observation.

Three of the Germans were middle-aged men, bearded, swarthy, and dressed in coffee-coloured cotton uniform, sun helmets and gum boots.

The other two were quite young men, whose attention, despite the heat, was mainly directed towards the Askaris. Evidently some of the stores had gone adrift, for the young Huns were browbeating a number of natives, punctuating their forcible remarks by liberal applications of their schamboks, while their elders looked on in stolid but unqualified approval.

"Dem make for one-time good shot, sah!" whispered Bela Moshi, calmly setting the backsight of his rifle. "Blow Bosh-bosh him head-bone inside out an' him not know anyting."

"Go steady, Bela Moshi," cautioned the subaltern. "Pa.s.s the word for the men to fire one volley over their heads--but not before I give orders--and then rush them with the bayonet. We want them alive, remember."

A whistle rang out faintly away on the left. The call was repeated much nearer, while distinct blasts rose through the heated air. It was the signal for the advance.

Almost as soon as Wilmshurst put his whistle to his lips a crisp volley from the rifles of his platoon rent the welkin, then with fierce shouts the khaki-clad, barefooted Waffs leapt to their feet, their bayonets glittering in the sun.

At first, too utterly astonished to realise that they were hopelessly trapped and outnumbered, the Huns stood stock still, gazing stupidly at the converging ring of steel. The Askaris for the most part attempted to bolt, but finding their retreat cut off, grovelled in the dust.

"Hands up!" shouted Wilmshurst.

The three bearded Huns obeyed promptly and meekly. Of the others one held up his arms with sullen reluctance, his flabby face distorted with rage. The fifth, dropping on one knee, picked up a rifle and levelled it at the on-rushing British officer.

"The fellow's showing pluck, by Jove!" was the thought that flashed through Dudley's mind. Like all brave men he admired courage even in a foe. The fact that running over rough ground and firing a revolver at fifty yards did not give him much chance against a steadily held rifle entered into his calculations.

Before the Hun could press trigger a score of rifles spoke. The Waffs, on seeing their young officer's danger, took no chances, and the German, his head and chest riddled with bullets, toppled over stone dead upon the ground. As he fell his fingers closed convulsively against the trigger of his rifle and the bullet intended for Wilmshurst sung past the subaltern's left ear.

A loud yell from the other young Hun proclaimed the fact that he, too, was. .h.i.t. A bullet fired at the resisting German had been deflected, pa.s.sing through the fleshy part of his comrade's left arm. It was hard luck on a surrendered prisoner, but on these occasions luck, both good and bad, crops up at every available opportunity.

"Sorry, Fritz," exclaimed Wilmshurst apologetically. "Accident, you know."

There was no time for explanation. Directing a Haussa to attend to the Hun's injury and ordering others to round up and disarm the prisoners Wilmshurst hurried his men to the storming of the kopje.

On all sides the Waffs were climbing the slopes, yelling and cheering vociferously, but not an answering shout came from the rocky summit.

It required enormous restraint on the part of the foe to withhold their fire, while already the Haussas had pa.s.sed the zone where a volley at comparatively short range would have played havoc with them.

The silence on the part of the enemy seemed incomprehensible unless, not having sufficient numbers to hold the edges of the flat-topped hill they had concentrated at one spot, where with machine-guns they could rake the skyline as the Waffs breasted the top.

Over the position the exultant troops poured, the one fly in the ointment being the fact that their rush had met with no resistance. In extended order they re-formed and dashed across the plateau--a rapidly contracting line of khaki tipped with steel.

Almost in the centre of the top of the kopje was an irregular mound of piled rocks and earth. Towards this the Waffs charged, their officers momentarily expecting the rattle of musketry and the tic-tac of machine-guns.

Without resistance the Waffs bore on, overran the supposed earthworks and found--nothing.

There were not even traces of Hun occupation. The enemy had got clear away with the exception of the small post rushed by Wilmshurst's platoon. By an evident error of judgment on the part of MacGregor--a non-existent position had been the object of the column's attention, and although the operations were not entirely futile officers and men realised that they had experienced a great disappointment.

Descending the kopje the Waffs fell in, having secured their prisoners under a strong escort. The order to march was about to be given when the distant rattle of musketry was distinctly heard.

The colonel looked at the senior major enquiringly.

"A raiding crush, sir," replied the latter to the unspoken question.

"While we've been on a wild goose chase Fritz is raiding our camp."

CHAPTER VI

THE WARNING SHOT

n.o.bly the sorely-tried Waffs rose to the occasion. Notwithstanding their arduous advance and its meagre results they eagerly hastened to meet the new danger, knowing that with the destruction of their baggage and transport and their lines of communication cut they would be in a serious position in the almost waterless scrub.

They required little urging, the officers' words of encouragement being quite perfunctory although well-intentioned. In open order with flankers thrown out the Waffs hurried through the bush, the sound of continuous rifle-fire growing louder and louder.

"b.u.t.ton's holding out all right," declared the company-major to Wilmshurst, referring to the lieutenant left in charge of the camp.

"He has MacGregor and young Vipont to back him up and twenty-five Haussas. Hullo, what's that?"

"German machine-guns, sir," replied Wilmshurst promptly.

"Yes, worse luck," resumed the major. "We've been running after the shadow and the substance b.u.t.ts in during our absence."

An orderly came dashing up with a written message. The major's face fell as he read it.

"We're out of it again, Wilmshurst," he remarked, after the runner had been sent back with a confirmatory report.

"How's that, sir?" asked the subaltern.

"Orders from the colonel for 'A' Company to hold the position shown on the attached map, and to cut off the retreat of the enemy. Here we are: see this kloof? Three platoons are to lie in ambush at that spot, another--yours, Mr. Wilmshurst--will take up a position two miles to the north-west, in case any stragglers attempt to break through the smaller defile shown on the map. It looks nothing more than a native path. We'll find that out later on."

At the word of command "A" Company halted until the rest of the battalion was almost out of sight. Then the detachment, moving to the right in column of fours, marched at a rapid pace along a comparatively clear path through the scrub.

When the three platoons had taken up their position at the indicated spot Wilmshurst's platoon had still a distance of two miles to cover--and that two miles was the roughest part of the whole day's march. It was a disused track possibly dating back to the old days when the Arab slave-raiders traversed the greater part of Central Africa in search of "black ivory," and was now greatly overgrown by cacti and other fibrous plants. Here and there palm trees had fallen completely across the path, while in no part was it more than a yard in breadth, being hedged in on both sides by dense tropical vegetation.

And yet the track was distinctly marked upon the German-compiled maps with which the British troops were working.

It was hardly a route that any European under ordinary circ.u.mstances would tackle under the glaring heat of the afternoon's sun.

Mosquitoes--harbingers of malaria--and fire-flies buzzed in swarms, snakes and lizards, their hitherto undisturbed solitude rudely shaken by the stealthy patter of three score pairs of bare feet, wriggled across the swampy ground, while overhead thousands of frightened birds flew in large circles, chattering the while in a way that would alarm every Boche within a radius of three miles.

A mile and a half of this sort of marching--the Haussas were in single file--and the platoon emerged into a wider track running obliquely across the path they had taken. Halting his men Wilmshurst, a.s.sisted by Sergeant Bela Moshi, examined the ground. There were evidences that a number of European and native troops had pa.s.sed, going in the opposite direction to the Waffs' bivouac, while what was somewhat remarkable there were more recent tracks of a horse's hoofs.