"Guess you're wrong, Danvers," interrupted Laxdale. "I know how the business is going to end; street fighting in Cape Town. Fritz won't stand, so it's an everlasting chase until he's got the sea at his back."

"Any one seen MacGregor this morning?" enquired Wilmshurst.

"MacGregor? Didn't you find him?" asked Vipont, who had joined the group of tired-eyed subalterns. "After the column left camp--about an hour and a half, I should say--he asked Sutton to let him try and overtake the battalion. Said he didn't want to swing the lead with a mere scratch on his shin-bone. So he mounted and rode off. That's the last I saw of him."

"How long before the Huns attacked?" asked Danvers.

"Three hours," replied Vipont. "You don't suggest that a skilled scout blundered right on top of them?"

"Not at all," his questioner hastened to a.s.sert. "For one thing after he followed us he would be on a diverging route to that taken by Fritz & Co. What do you say, Wilmshurst?"

Dudley shook his head. He had no particular cause either to like or dislike the man, but he hesitated to give definite utterance to his suspicions. It was decidedly un-British to condemn a man before being sure of actual facts and to sow the seeds of distrust against an individual who was not present to defend himself. But somehow the chain of events--the horse's footprints on the kloof road, the warning shot when the hitherto unsuspecting Huns were approaching the ambush, the mark V. cartridge case--all pointed to treachery on the part of some one, while MacGregor's disappearance coincided with the other points that had occurred to the subaltern.

"He may be bushed," he replied. "It's just likely that he'll turn up again soon. Has his absence been reported? I'll mention it, if you like. I have to see the adjutant in a few minutes."

Wilmshurst found the adjutant in his "office," which consisted of three walls of piled ammunition boxes, with a double covering of canvas. The furniture was composed of a desk (an upturned packing-case) and a couple of chairs (smaller dittos) the former being littered with official forms and papers, for even in the wilds of Africa the British Army cannot dispense with red-tape formalities.

"Mornin', Mr. Wilmshurst," was the adjutant's greeting as he returned the subaltern's salute. "Want to see you with reference to that report of yours, don't you know. Take a pew. You'll find that case pretty comfortable, and come in out of the sun. Look here: from your report I understand that a warning shot was fired, but not by any of ours. Is that so?"

Wilmshurst paused. The adjutant was quick to notice his hesitation.

"Come, come!" he continued sharply. "Do you suspect any one? If so, out with it. We can't stand on sentiment in matters of this description, don't you know."

"Are you aware, sir, that MacGregor left camp shortly after we left camp and has not returned?"

"Hasn't he, by Jove!" exclaimed the adjutant. "Well, what about it?

Has that anything to do with the case in point?"

"I hope not, sir," answered the subaltern, "but--but----"

"Proceed," urged his questioner calmly.

Wilmshurst, seeing no other course, boldly took his plunge, stating his views upon the connection between the scout's disappearance and the timely warning received by the retiring enemy, producing as evidence the rimmed cartridge case, which by reason of its shape and calibre could not be fired from a Mauser rifle.

"Dash it all!" exclaimed the adjutant explosively. "What sort of reptile have we been harbouring? I'm afraid that what steps we take concerning him will be locking the stable door after the horse has gone."

"We arc working simply in conjecture, sir," observed the subaltern.

"He may be all right, after all."

"Conjecture, confound it!" shouted the other. "What d'you call this?"

holding up the cartridge case. "If it isn't circ.u.mstantial evidence, what is?"

At that moment an orderly put in an appearance. "Macgreg him horse am come back, sah," he reported, saluting.

The adjutant, picking up a sheaf of papers and putting on his sun-helmet, hurried to the lines where the horses were picketed, Wilmshurst following and the orderly bringing up the rear.

Already news of MacGregor's disappearance had spread, although there was no thought of treachery in the minds of the other officers. They had come to the conclusion that the Rhodesian in an access of zeal had blundered right into the enemy column.

The appearance of the horse bore out this surmise. The animal was lathered with foam, its eyes bloodshot and its limbs trembling. Across the hind quarters was the sear of a bullet that had cut away the hair and left a slight wound in the hide. One stirrup was missing, cut through by means of a sharp implement, while the saddle and reins were dappled with blood-stains.

"Bless my soul, Manners!" exclaimed the colonel turning to the adjutant. "What does this mean?"

"Dunno, sir, I'm sure," answered the dum-founded officer.

"We can't let the affair drop," decided the C.O. "It's not fair on MacGregor to sit still. Tell off a section and follow the horse's tracks. Perhaps the man has been wounded--it looks very much like it--and may be lying out in the bush."

Promptly Bela Moshi and about a dozen men were dispatched to follow up the spoor. Good trackers all, they ought to experience but little difficulty, notwithstanding the fact that hundreds of men had been trampling the ground, for the Haussas vie with the Australian aborigines and the Red Indian in the act of tracing a man or an animal for miles with uncanny skill and persistence.

Hardly had the Haussas departed on their errand when a couple of British naval officers literally staggered into the bivouac. At first they were too utterly done up to speak. They were parched with thirst, their drill uniforms torn in their long trek through the scrub, and their boots were cut almost to pieces. One of them was limping badly as the result of a sprained ankle.

Under the care of Doctor Barclay the stragglers soon recovered sufficiently to give a coherent account of their misadventures. They were the observer and pilot of one of the seaplanes attached to the Rovuma column, their base being close to a large sheet of water formed by the inundation of the river. Out reconnoitring they had discovered a party of Huns and had bombed them very effectually. That was their version, although Wilmshurst had good reason to believe that they were quite under a misapprehension on that score. On the return flight the engine developed ignition troubles, and there was no help for it but to plane down. The airmen were lucky in being able to find a fairly open stretch of ground, but the unexpected happened. The floats of the seaplane skidded over the hard ground and caught against some obstruction, with the result that the machine was badly damaged, the pilot and observer being thrown violently.

Forty miles from their base the airmen realised that it was almost out of the question to make their way on foot through the scrub, especially as there were several small rivers to be negotiated. So they decided to find the bivouac of the Waffs which they had spotted on their outward flight. According to their estimate the distance was about eight miles, but in reality it was almost twice that distance.

Owing to the intense heat they were compelled to discard their overalls. Their foot gear was totally inadequate against the thorns and stony ground. Without water and with only a bar of chocolate between them they experienced terrible hardships before they sighted their temporary refuge.

Their chief anxiety was now the question whether the seaplane could be recovered. On this score their minds were set at rest, when the colonel promised to send out a fatigue party to dismantle the machine and transport it to the banks of the Runkoma, a small stream sufficiently wide to allow the seaplane to taxi provided the floats were still intact.

"You might take that job on, Mr. Wilmshurst," remarked his company commander. "Your platoon will be just about sufficient to provide the necessary labour, and also a covering party, although I don't contemplate any trouble from the Huns. We've just heard that Fritz has had a nasty smack at Motungba, which more than counterbalances his recent success against the Portuguese on the Rovuma."

The action to which the major referred was a brilliant little affair on the part of the main column operating in the Rovuma valley. The Huns were found to be in a strong natural position, the defence of which was further increased by well-constructed trenches and entanglements.

Notwithstanding the difficulties of a frontal attack, a Punjabi regiment stormed the defences, the Indians making terrific havoc with bombs. The Askaris broke and fled, the Germans alone putting up a fight until they were either killed or captured. The native levies in their flight were overtaken and cut up by a squadron of colonial horse, and with slight loss the Imperial forces scored a dashing little victory, capturing four field guns and one naval gun removed from the cruiser _Konigsberg_, beside a vast quant.i.ty of arms and ammunition.

The result of this engagement was a junction with the gallant Belgian forces, the Huns being split up into two groups, of which the princ.i.p.al force was on the Portuguese border, while the other, subdivided into mobile detachments, was doubling back towards the Rufigi river.

"These fellows will give trouble," declared the major. "They won't stand. They are in a mortal funk of enveloping movements; but by the time we've rounded 'em up we'll be jolly sick of the show, you mark my words."

The return of Bela Moshi and his section diverted Wilmshurst's attention into another channel. The Haussa sergeant had succeeded in following the spoor of MacGregor's horse for three and a half miles along the path taken by the Waffs of their practically barren operations against the kopje when the Huns had been reported. Here the trail ended in a medley of hoof-prints, while hard by a rock were traces of the splaying of half a dozen bullets. In the sun-baked gra.s.s in front of the rock were found ten used cartridge cases and a stirrup-iron, but a prolonged search faded to reveal any traces of the missing Rhodesian's departure from the spot where he had apparently been brought to bay. There were hundreds of footprints all around; those of Askaris and Germans, for none of the imprints of booted feet bore any resemblance to those of Robert MacGregor.

At the first opportunity the adjutant called Wilmshurst aside.

"You didn't mention your suspicions to any one else?" he enquired.

"No, sir," replied Dudley.

"It's just as well for the present," continued Captain Manners. "For MacGregor's sake I hope that you have done him an injustice, but I am quite convinced that you acted judiciously in communicating your suspicions to me. However, there's still one point that wants clearing up. The patrol did not find MacGregor's body. Nor was there any spoor to show which way he went if he did succeed in breaking through the enemy. The third surmise is that he might have been taken prisoner.

If so, is it likely that the Huns provided him with a horse? I think not. Knowing Fritz as we do, the sort of thing that they would do would be to lash his wrists, and drag him at the end of a line--but Bela Moshi was emphatic that none of the boot-prints corresponded to those of the missing man. Until the mystery is cleared up, we are at a loss to understand whether MacGregor is a true man or a traitor."

CHAPTER VIII

ULRICH VON GOBENDORFF

Hauptmann Max von Argerlich, senior surviving officer of the 99th Regiment of Askaris, was in a furious temper with himself and every one with whom he came in contact. It might have been the unusual exertion of a forced march in the heat of the sun, or an insufficiency of food that had upset him. The hard-worked Askaris had good cause to dread his pa.s.sionate outbursts, for on these occasions lashes were ordered at the faintest pretext, for efficiency, according to the hauptmann's ideas, could only be maintained by an active display of physical force.