John's first proceeding when the conflagration had been stayed was to look for the property he had been at such pains to recover. The camp-fires gave too little light, so he got Coja to make a couple of torches. Taking one himself and giving the other to Ferrier, he hastened to the centre of the camp, where the baggage was piled. On the way he passed a confused medley of things--sleeping mats, cooking pots, bows and arrows, spears--things left or flung down by the fugitives in their hurried flight. And there, packed in the middle space, out of reach of the fires, were his boxes of ammunition and his rifles.
"We've got the lot, by Jove!" he exclaimed joyfully. "They haven't even opened one of the boxes. What extraordinary luck!"
"Couldn't be better," cried Ferrier heartily. "And you've got more than your own, too; there's a good many bows and arrows and a few spears, besides no end of baskets containing food, I suppose."
"Yes, they belong to the villagers. We'll make them a present of the bows and arrows and spears, and anything else they can find, bar the rifles. There aren't many spears; I suppose the rascals slept with them at their side, and snatched them up when they ran. Hallo! Here are two of the Sniders that Juma ran off with in his first little scheme. That makes three we've recovered."
"And proves that Juma is at the bottom of it."
"I should like to lay that fellow by the heels. But we'd better get something to eat. I'm famishing. Where's our failed B.A.?"
"Here, sir," said a voice at John's elbow. "I obeyed in all points your esteemed injunctions at closest possible proximity, and tender hearty congratulations on the success, not in mortals to command, but more, deserved, which has attended this tour de force."
"Well now, make up the fire and see what you can do to get us a meal. I'll go and talk to the young chief, Charley, and butter him up. He and his men did jolly well. The shouts they let out when I gave the word made amends for their silence during the march, which must have been a trial to them."
Said Mohammed made up the fire and hunted about for the best cooking-pot and the articles of fare he thought would be most pleasing to the white men. The villagers had already set to work to prepare their own food, chattering and laughing in high elation. Within a quarter of an hour Said Mohammed had made a stew of some partly cooked waterbuck he had discovered. He washed out two rough mugs of clay, and pouring the stew into them, handed one to each of the young men.
"A thousand regrets, gentlemen," he said, "that circs. do not admit of more dainty dishes and service to match."
"That's all right," said John. "I could eat anything, and this stew is first-rate."
"Permit me to remark, sir, on national characteristics as displayed by gastronomic ways of going on, utensils, et cetera. The nation, sir, that invented gas-stoves produced Shakespeare, bard of Avon; what achievements in science or literature could be expected from a race that never devilled kidney nor poached egg? Shakespeare himself, sir, was a poacher in giddy youth; though poaching egg and poaching stag are in some respects different, yet each is fine art. The fate of empires lurks in the saucepan; indeed, the mightiest monarch would be negligible quantity without quantum suff. Wherefore----"
"A little more stew, please," said John, interrupting. "You'd better get your own supper, khansaman; you must be pretty peckish after your exertions."
"I am indeed, sir, an abhorred vacuum, and retire with permission to get jolly good tuck-in."
"Thank goodness!" ejaculated John when he had gone. "I say, Charley, I was getting very nervous when we didn't see the light for so long. You were pulled up by that hedge, of course; how did you get through?"
"Burrowed like a mole. I've a greater respect for that animal now. I suppose we'll make tracks for home in the morning, by the bye?"
"Well, d'you know, I'd rather like to finish this job now we've started. Juma's still at large: his men are a rabble, of course, but they're not licked, and if he gets them back to this fort of his he may still worry us, to say nothing of harrying the people about him. What do you say? Are you game?"
"What about the farm?"
"Gillespie will have sent somebody up by the time we could get back."
"But don't you think we've done for Juma? To-night's work will damage his prestige, and I shouldn't wonder if the 'bad men,' as Bill calls them, round on him now."
"I don't know. It will take him some time to recover from the blow, of course, but you see he still has some of our rifles and a certain amount of ammunition, I should think, and they'll go a long way in this country of bows and arrows. No: I confess I'd like to follow him up. The chief difficulty is our natives. They've recovered their property, which is what they came for, and I rather doubt whether they'll be willing to go any farther from home. If they won't there's no more to be said."
"In any case we aren't strong enough to storm the fort, if it is a fort."
"I shouldn't propose to do that. My idea is to start at sunrise or before, and get to the fort in advance of Juma. His men are quite demoralized: they'll take some time to rally. They'll probably hide in trees during the night, and they'll have to find one another in the morning, so that if we start early we can easily outstrip them."
"We don't know the way."
"But we've got some prisoners, my boy. No, we haven't though; I called our men off before they caught them. That's awkward."
"I wonder if the fellow who tried to pot me is still alive."
"You didn't tell me of that. When was it?"
Ferrier related the incident that happened outside the boma. John at once accompanied him to the spot, which they reached just in time to see the wounded man limping towards the outer hedge. They ran after him and caught him, taking him back to the camp, where John examined his leg, and did what he could by bathing and bandaging. Meanwhile he questioned the man, and learnt from him that the fort lay a long day's march to the north. It was held by about forty men, of whom several were Swahilis and had rifles. The fort was built on an island in the river--not the stream flowing past the camp, but a broader river into which that emptied itself a day's march to the south. To find it would be easy. They had only to follow the stream for a short distance, and then strike across country directly to the north. They would soon come upon the river, and the surrounding country being hilly, the easiest way to the fort was to follow its course.
"Now we'll tackle our natives," said John.
He found, as he had expected, that they were at first loath to engage themselves for a further expedition. They had recovered their property: the chief would be expecting them; they wanted to return and celebrate their success by a feast. John pointed out that, though they had done much, they would greatly enhance their glory if they carried back a great quantity of spoil from the enemy. They had been wantonly attacked: why not repay their attackers in their own coin? The fort would certainly contain things worth having. This argument appealed to the men, and when the chief's son reminded them that the wasungu had kept their promise and led them to a bloodless victory, they began to waver. "The wasungu are great hunters of lions," said the young chief; "they are also great hunters of men." John said that any who wished to go home might do so; but none were disposed to pass through the country without the whole body, and ultimately they agreed to follow the msungu wherever he chose to lead them. "You've a most persuasive tongue," said Ferrier to John, as they went away to talk things over. "I'm inclined to think you ought to have gone to the bar after all."
"Bosh! The judges aren't savages. We shall have to arrange a flying column--that's the name for it, isn't it? It's quite clear from what the prisoner said that we must get to the fort well in advance of Juma. If they get back we shan't be able to dislodge them: they won't be caught napping again, you may be sure. As it is, we may find it a hard nut to crack if there are forty men in the fort. We shall have to divide forces, too. We must leave enough men to guard this loot, and I'm afraid we can't both go, old chap: one of us must remain in charge."
"Well, you've done the hardest work so far: you take a rest and let me try my luck."
"But you fired the boma; it's my turn. Tell you what, we'll toss for it. Heads I go, tails you do as you please."
The spin of the coin decided for John.
"Just my luck," said Ferrier. "I always lost the toss when I captained the lacrosse team at McGill's. How many men will you take?"
"I can't do with fewer than twenty. I'll take Bill; Coja and Said Mohammed had better remain with you. By the way, you'll send over to our old camp in the morning and fetch the half-dozen we left there. They'll jump out of their skins if they're left too long. I wonder if our wounded prisoner could manage to come with me. I might find him useful. In fact, I'll take him--on a litter if he can't walk."
"Well, you'd better get a sleep now, or you won't be fit for much in the morning. The men too. It looks as though they meant to jabber all night."
"I'll stop that. I'll go and pick my men and make 'em go to sleep. Wake me at five, there's a good chap. By Jove! Wouldn't my old dad be in a stew if he knew what was up! We're risking a lot when you come to think of it; but we've been lucky so far, and with rifles and plenty of ammunition I fancy we'll win through. If I'm not back within two or three days you had better make tracks for the farm. Don't forget to wake me at five."
"All right. Pleasant dreams!"
Precisely at five o'clock John was roused, to find ready for him a breakfast of steaming stew and baked millet cakes. Ferrier had also prepared a litter for the prisoner, whose wound forbade him to walk. At half-past five the little company set off, consisting of John and the Wanderobbo, and twenty of the villagers. John had his rifle, a spare one being carried by a man at his side. Only two of the other men had ever handled firearms; these were given rifles, and carried the ammunition in little bundles slung to their backs. John had filled his bandolier and his pockets with cartridges. Ferrier said good-bye to him at the gate of the boma, and started the men left behind in a rousing cheer.
The party marched very rapidly, John at the head with Bill and the litter-bearers, so that the prisoner might keep them in the right way. They followed the course of the stream for about a mile; then forded it, and made across a stretch of grassland, in which, as the morning advanced, they started large numbers of game. Just before noon they reached the river of which the prisoner had spoken, a slow, gurgling current of red water. Here they halted for a meal of beans and millet; then after an hour's rest set forth again. They had gone but a short distance up-stream when, as they ascended a slight acclivity, Bill was seized with intense excitement. Pointing to a flat-topped hill many miles away, he cried that it was there the Arab safari was attacked, and near by the ivory was hidden. A projecting spur to the right was the site of the shambas whence the people had pounced out to the assault. His own old home lay half a day's journey beyond the hill.
John pressed on now even more rapidly. Though he had met with no natives on the way, he could not be sure that some of the fugitives had not outstripped him along another route. For the most part he kept to the river, striking off here and there to avoid wide sweeping curves, as the prisoner indicated. Presently he saw in the distance a bold bluff rising to a hundred feet above the plain, and stretching across the line of march. The fort, said the prisoner, lay a short distance beyond the bluff, which was cut in two by the river. Up the side of the bluff wound a steep pathway, and at the top a look-out was constantly stationed, except at night, when he was withdrawn into the fort. From this high post the plain could be seen for miles. Knowing how keen is the negro's sight, John called a halt before it was likely that his party had come within the range of vision. The rest of the journey must be performed in the dark. He led the men into the bush at some distance from the river, so that they should not be seen by any one who might pass either to or from the fort. Again he impressed upon them the necessity for silence.
At nightfall, refreshed by the rest, they started once more, confident of being able to approach the bluff unobserved. An hour's march under the pale light of the stars brought them to its foot, and John heard the noise of water rushing swiftly through the gorge. The pathway, said the prisoner, started from a spot very near the river-bank. Even with his directions it proved by no means easy to find in the darkness, and when at last they lit upon it, and John began the ascent, it was scarcely less difficult to keep to the track. Bill fell on his knees and groped along it with his hand, saying when he arose that it had not been made originally by men, but trodden by game descending from the hills to the plain.
Coming at length, after a tortuous and toilsome climb, to the summit, John paused to take breath and to look about him. Below on his left he could now see the foaming river racing through the gorge. Beyond, the ground sloped gradually to the plain. There was no sound save that of the swirling water, no sign of the presence of men. He went on, until he came once more to the brink of the river, and a mile further on saw gleaming in the starlight a broad pool, in the midst of which rose a dark mass. This, said the prisoner, was the island and fort, and at the upper end of the pool the river ran down swiftly, but not so swiftly as below.
Striking off to the right towards a belt of woodland, John led his party until they came opposite the island. It was dark and silent: no one would have supposed that the fort held men. John could see an irregular path leading from the shore to the island. This, said the prisoner, was a line of rocks flung down into the water, and so narrow that only one man could walk along it at a time. There was a gap between the island and the end of the causeway. The prisoner explained that a bridge was thrown over the gap to enable men to enter and leave the fort, the wall of which came to within a few feet of the shore of the island. At night the bridge was drawn up.
John stood to consider his next move. His purpose in bringing the prisoner was to use him as a decoy to draw the garrison from the fort. He was confronted with a difficulty. The man could not walk. He would be useless as a decoy unless he could advance along the causeway so far as to bring him within hearing of his fellows. The bullet was still in the man's leg; John wished he had thought of probing the wound before; it was impossible to do it now. The negro is a hardy animal, stolid under pain. John promised to give the man a handsome present if he would leave the litter and go with a message to the fort. The man agreed with such alacrity as to suggest an intention of treachery, but John provided against that. He had the prisoner bound to him by a cord about his ankle, and showing him his revolver, he explained what the result would be if he did anything but what he was told to do. He carefully instructed the prisoner in the part he was required to play, repeating his words so that he could not mistake. Then, having placed the remainder of his party under cover of the wood, he set forth with the negro.
There was now a light in the fort, and the glow of a fire. Clearly somebody was awake. The two men walked down to the edge of the pool, and on to the causeway, the guide limping painfully, but uttering no murmur. John walked close behind him, so that he might not be descried from the fort. They had gone about half-way along the causeway when a voice rang out from some point ahead. The prisoner gave an answering shout. John's nerves were at too high a tension to permit of his feeling amusement at the greetings that were exchanged.
"Is it well?"
"It is well."
"Ah!"
"Ah!"
"Um!"
"Um!"
"Have you eaten well?"
"We have eaten well.
"Ma!"
"Ma!"
"Mum!"
"Mum!"
Civilities being thus completed, they got to business. The prisoner recited the story with which he had been prompted, so glibly that a white man might have doubted its veracity. He said that he brought good news. The brave warriors (meaning Juma's party), under their brave leader, had sacked the msungu's farm and the neighbouring village, and made much plunder, so vast a quantity, indeed, that they were exhausted in carrying it. He had been sent in advance to order thirty men to issue forth and help the weary warriors in conveying their spoils up the bluff.
"It is dark," said the sentry.
"It is the leader's command," was the reply. "He will be like a raging lion if you delay."
Another voice was heard within the fort. In a few moments the sentry cried--
"We come."
"Ah!" said the prisoner.
"Ah!" echoed the sentry.
Then, before the garrison could issue from the gate and lay the bridge across the gap, the prisoner cried that he would hasten back and inform Juma that the men were coming. He turned, and followed John along the causeway until they reached the shore. Then the two hurried across the open to rejoin the ambushed party. The prisoner, who had borne up stoically hitherto, collapsed with pain before they reached the wood; and John, alarmed lest his stratagem should be defeated at a moment when success seemed assured, set the man upon his back and ran into shelter. A few minutes afterwards he saw a line of men, headed by a Swahili in a white garment, come across the causeway from the fort, and turn to the right along the path leading to the bluff. John was tingling with excitement. All was going well: would his luck hold? The men's voices faded away in the distance. He gave them ten minutes; then bidding his men follow him closely, he ran down to the shore, and on to the causeway. As he expected, the bridge had been left spanning the gap in readiness for the laden safari. Waiting only to see that the men were close at his heels, John dashed over the last few feet, straight into the fort. A dozen men were squatting in a group about a small fire in the middle of the compound. They looked up as they heard the tread of men, but before they could spring to their feet, before, indeed, their slow minds suspected that anything was amiss, they were bowled over by the rush of twenty sturdy savages with a white man at their head, and lay in shaking terror on the ground, howling for mercy.
John had ordered his men to do no killing. They were surprised, but obeyed. Shouting for silence, he called to the panic-stricken garrison to march out of the fort. They sprang up and fled like a flock of terrified sheep, out of the gate and along the causeway, yelling as they ran. When the last was gone, and none but his own men were left in the place, John caught up the bridge and drew it in. The capture of the stronghold had taken three minutes.