Chapter THE TENTH: Driving Sheep to Market (2)

Suddenly, when they were a good five miles, as John estimated, from the farm, on ascending a gradual slope they saw from its crest the flock of sheep placidly grazing on a little patch of grass about half-a-mile below. There was no sign of the raiders, and the surrounding bush being very thin, they must have been visible had they remained in the immediate vicinity. Cantering down towards the sheep, which scattered as they approached, the riders dismounted, rounded them up, and proceeded to count them.

"They're the Welsh crosses," said John. "Forty-nine--one missing. I can't make this out at all. Look, here's the trail of the men, let's follow it up. We'll tether the donkeys. The sheep won't leave this grass."

The trail led them straight towards a wood a mile further on. At the edge of this they saw clear signs of a sheep having been slaughtered and cut up. Entering the wood cautiously, they followed the trail for some distance, finding that it wound towards the north. Both were itching to punish the raiders, but the trail became more and more difficult to distinguish as the wood grew denser, and at length, hot and tired, and as much mystified as angry, they turned back and came out once more into the open.

"It's something to have got the sheep," said John. "But what was the beggars' game? They couldn't have seen us after them, and they wouldn't drive the whole flock so far for the sake of cutting up one."

"Sheer devilry, perhaps," suggested Ferrier. "They knew we'd overtake 'em before they had got very far, and I dare say are chuckling at having given us all the trouble for nothing. Rather a poor game, one would think."

"Well, we'd better drive the sheep home. It's a long march, and they'll be pretty well done up by the time we get there."

They remounted, and headed the flock towards the farm. Sheep, as every one knows, and as John had experienced on the road to Nairobi, are very slow travellers.

"By Jove!" said Ferrier, when they had marched for an hour and covered perhaps two miles, "I begin to understand what your droving job was like. I should never have had the patience."

"I'd give anything for a good sheep-dog. I must ask my father to bring one with him--or send one, if he doesn't intend to come himself."

It was on the verge of nightfall when, tired and hungry, they came to the outskirts of the farm. They heard the bleating of the animals that had been already penned, and the flock, weary as they were, moved a little faster to rejoin their kind. Coming to the gate of the boma, John was surprised to find it open, having given strict orders that it should always be closed immediately after the animals were brought in for the night. There was not a man to be seen. Having driven the sheep into their pens, they hurried on towards the farm buildings.

"What a smell of wood smoke!" said Ferrier, sniffing.

"Yes; I hope they haven't set fire to anything. Ah! here's Wasama."

The Masai came running towards them, followed by his son, the Indians, Coja and Lulu, all in great haste.

"The bad men, _bwana_!" cried Coja, and began to pour out a story so rapidly that John, familiar as he now was with Swahili, could make little of it, especially as Lulu and the Masai joined in with great excitement. John silenced them, and asked Said Mohammed to explain what had happened. His story, told in more direct and natural language than John had ever heard from him before, was as follows. About half-an-hour after John had started in pursuit of the raiders Bill had rushed in, dripping wet, and reported that a large party of armed men, having raided the village north of the river, were marching rapidly down with the evident intention of swimming across and making an attack on the farm. The Bengali, according to his own account, wished to close the gate and bar the doors of the bungalow, and defend it to the last; but John afterwards had reason to believe that this was Coja's proposal, and he had found nobody to support him. Only a few minutes after Bill's arrival the strangers were seen rushing into the farmstead. The mistris, the Masai, Lulu, and the few women of the village who had been working in the fields instantly fled and hid themselves, who knows where. Said Mohammed went into his own house, and there awaited the coming of the enemy, resolved to die for the sahib whose salt he had eaten. The men seized him and dragged him forth, demanding that he should tell them where the rifles and ammunition were kept.

"That made me very ratty, sir," said the Bengali. "What! should I tell tales out of school? But when those fearful bounders threatened to roast me at my own fire I reflected that it could not be your wish, nor the wish of your excellent progenitor, that a failed B.A. of Calcutta University should be roast joint for the sake of a quantity of villainous saltpetre, et cetera, and therefore I owned up. But while the banditti were gloating and slapping their backs I took French leave by the back door, and lo! ensconced behind the barn was Coja, who like me had saved his bacon."

From their hiding-place they watched the proceedings of the enemy. They first of all carried all the rifles out of the bungalow; then from the little outhouse adjoining it they brought all the ammunition and all the "trade." The place had been stripped bare, as the Bengali found when he examined it after the men had gone. The negroes had then shouldered the loot under the direction of three Swahilis who had guns, and when they had marched off, the Swahilis had kindled a fire in the little space between the floor of the bungalow and the ground. Then they had hurried off after the rest. As soon as they had disappeared, Coja and the Bengali emerged from their hiding-places, and extinguished the fire with water from the rain-water tank near the dairy. Very little damage had been done, the incendiaries having been in such haste to overtake the rest of their party that they had not waited to ensure a good blaze.

In the first shock of hearing this bad news both John and Ferrier used such language as might have been expected of them. It was only too clear now that the sheep-stealing had been a mere blind, cunningly devised to decoy them from the farm while the real raid was effected. To John it was a disaster. When he hurried into the outhouses and bungalow and found that rifles, ammunition, and every bundle of "trade" were gone, he felt that ruin stared him in the face. It is not surprising that, tired out after his long day's work, he saw things even blacker than they were. There was still a balance at the bank, Cousin Sylvia having insisted on paying all the expenses of Mr. Halliday's tour; though if John drew upon that there would be little or no reserve in case the second year's working turned out unprofitable. Meanwhile the actual loss was heavy, and the inconvenience perhaps greater, for without the "trade" he could not pay the labourers from the village, and what with the lack of wages and the damage to their employer's prestige, John foresaw a refusal to work any more.

An examination of the bungalow showed that the floor was little more than scorched. Nothing had been taken from it except the rifles, so far as John could see. He kept very little cash, but that was intact. His rupee notes were always stowed for security in the pockets of his belt. It was clear that the raiders had come for arms and "trade" only, and having got what they wanted had wasted no time in merely looting.

"We can't sit down under this," said John, when he had realized the extent of his loss. "Yet I don't know what on earth we can do. We've two rifles and twenty rounds apiece, against--how many did these ruffians number, khansaman?"

"In mental arithmetic, sir, I am mere greenhorn, rank duffer; but from cursory squint I figure them at five hundred."

"Oh, come now, that won't do. If they had been so many they wouldn't have been in such a hurry, Where's Bill?"

"He has not come within my sphere of influence since he ran in like drowned rat to give us the straight tip, sir."

"Well, get us something to eat. We're famished. By the way, did any one recognize Juma among them?"

"No, sah; no Juma to-day, sah," said Coja. "Him berry much 'fraid to come heah, 'cause of Lulu, sah. Him show him face, ha! ha! she give him what for, sah."

"Go and get your supper."

John spoke irritably. Normally good-tempered, he was now unlike himself.

"And I might have guessed it if I had any gumption," he said to Ferrier. "Juma took advantage of the sheep straying to run off with our rifles before, and it didn't require much ingenuity to invent the ruse."

"Cheer up, old chap. You'll feel better when you've had some grub. It's very sickening, but as you say, I don't see what we can do."

It was now quite dark, and they ate their supper in silence. Even Said Mohammed's excellent cookery could not overcome John's furious disgust at having been tricked. When the Bengali brought in an omelet he said--

"A thousand and one pardons, sir. The wanderer, videlicet Wanderobbo, has returned, and asks for honour of confab."

"Bring him in, and fetch Coja; it takes too long to understand Bill without him."

Bill had come to report that he had followed up the raiders for several miles to the north. They had robbed the villagers of all their foodstuffs, and all the "trade" which they had received as wages for their work on the farm, and then marched directly northward, coming after a few miles to an encampment where they were presently joined by a smaller party from the west. When he came to this part of his story Bill grew much excited. In the leader of the smaller party he recognized one of the safari which years before had attacked his village, killed his people, and plundered their store of ivory--the ivory which by rights belonged to him, and which he would yet recover.

"But that's nonsense," said John. "If these people seized his ivory years ago, it has all been sold long before this."

When this was interpreted to Bill he was like a man demented, and poured out a torrent of incoherent speech which even Coja was unable to understand. John dismissed them both, thinking that the Wanderobbo must have brooded over some old grievance until it had turned his brain.

"Bill's report has given me a notion," he said to Ferrier presently. "If they looted the village they'll be pretty heavily loaded and will go slowly. They won't march during the night, and if this business happened about five hours ago we ought to be able to overtake them if we start early in the morning."

"But, my dear fellow----" began Ferrier.

"Oh, I know it's a risk, and we're outnumbered, and we ought to be prudent, and all the other things that people say who sit in easy-chairs and wear goloshes. But it's the only thing to be done, and I'm going to do it."

"But do you think it's right to leave the farm? Wouldn't your father----"

"Hang--no, I don't mean that; I'm afraid I'm rather a bad-tempered brute to-night, old fellow; but look at it clearly, and you'll agree with me. If we sit down under this they'll try it on again. The farm will never be safe. We might as well cut our sticks at once."

"Why not apply to the Government?"

"Absolutely useless. To begin with, it would take time, and the raiders would be who knows how far away? If they belong to that gang we heard of who've got some sort of a fort up north, they're in a country where precious few white men have ever been, if any. It would be sheer folly to send a police column into the hills after a roving band of this sort. No, it's a settlers' job; it's one of the risks we run, like the lions, and we've got to deal with it."

"Well, but how are you going to set about it?"

"How are _we_ going to, you mean."

"A slip of the tongue, old chap. Of course I'm with you, all along the line. How are we going to set about it, then?"

"Don't know yet. That's what we've got to decide before we go to bed to-night. One thing's certain, we must make up our minds quickly, start soon, and hurry like the very dickens, for if there's any truth in this tale of a fort, we must collar our rifles and ammunition before they get to it, or we're done. That's the first thing: to get our rifles back."

"That's a large order. How many did they take?"

"Four and a shot-gun. If they're the same lot we dealt with before they'll have about a dozen now. I know we don't stand the ghost of a chance of recovering them in a fight; that's absurd; but I rather think if we put our heads together we can find some way of diddling them."

"If it's a matter of brains I'm conceited enough to believe we have the odds, but there's a lot to consider besides. We shall have to take a safari to carry provisions, and a pretty big one if we're going to bluff them. They won't bolt as they did before. Well, where will you get your safari from?"

"The village. What are you smiling at? Snakes, I forgot they've run off with all my "trade." I've nothing to pay porters with. That's bad. Still, the chief has known us some time, and perhaps he'll trust us. I'll see, first thing in the morning."

"Who will you leave in charge of the farm? Not the Bengali?"

"Rather not. He may be a very Nimrod in the Sunderbunds, but he's a funk-stick here. No; Coja's a better man."

"But you'll want him to interpret."

"'M. Afraid I shall. I can rub along pretty well with Swahili by this time, but we may come across a tribe who don't know it, and that would certainly be awkward. Well, Coja must come with us, then."

"What I suggest is that you should send a note to Mr. Gillespie and ask him to send up a respectable European to take charge. He might come himself; he hasn't paid you the visit he promised, and if you tell him what you're after I'm sure he'll do what he can. Besides, if we get bowled over, you know, it would be just as well he should have heard about the business beforehand, for your father's sake. And I'd send a note to the Commissioner at Fort Hall too; he may be inclined to stretch a point."

"I'll do both. A good idea to get Gillespie up here, or some one he can trust. Of course if we're lucky we shall get our rifles and things and be back here long before he could arrive. But then we mayn't. I'll write before we turn in. That's settled."

"Don't you think we ought to have some sort of a plan before we start?"

"Our plan is to go straight after the raiders, and march two miles or more to their one."

"That's all right; but what if they reckon on being pursued and lay a trap for us? You see, they were pursued last time, and they hadn't done nearly so much damage then."

"That's true," said John; "but on the other hand there's such a lot of them this time--we can divide Mohammed's five hundred by five--there's such a lot that they may think we'll not attempt to bring them to book. Still, we ought to be on our guard. The worst of it is that if we have to go carefully we shall have to go slowly, and time's everything in this job. Hand me a cigarette and let's think it over."

"Any good asking Bill?"

"Not a bit. He can do tracking, follow his nose, but that's about all. Besides, he's so cranky just now that he's fit for nothing. I wonder how much truth there is in this ivory yarn of his? We may get to the bottom of it by and by. But this plan of ours--any ideas, Charley?"

"Not a ghost of one. We _must_ follow the track, and that may lead us into an ambush."

"Wait a bit, though. If we could march on a line parallel to it we might go as fast as we liked without much danger."

"How could we do that--far enough away from it not to be spotted, and yet near enough not to lose it?"

"Of course we couldn't all go together; some one must keep on the track, and that must be Bill for one."

"That wouldn't be much good. How could we keep in touch with him? I've got a field-glass, but that will be useless if we have to go through much wood. We can't rig Bill up with wireless!"

"No, but I'll tell you what we can do. You take the safari on the parallel line; I'll go with Bill and take my pocket-mirror with me. It will make a fine heliograph. You know the code, of course?"

"I do, as it happens. I could signal back with my watch-case. But that won't help us if there's a wood or a hill between us."

"Well, we must chance that; and as Bill and I shall be able to go much faster than you with the safari, we can come over to you if necessary; you see what I mean: come and go between the two tracks and yet keep up with you."

"I think that's got it. I suppose it's no use thinking what we'll do when we come up with the raiders?"

"No; all will depend on when we find them, and where. I'm not going to think of that, and as we shall have to be up early to interview the chief and get our things together, I vote we go to bed."

"Don't forget your letters."

"Right. Off you go. Goodness knows when we'll sleep next."

John wrote the two letters he had spoken of, and a third, a brief note to his father explaining what had happened. Then he went to bed thoroughly tired out, and slept like a top.

Next morning one of the most serious of his difficulties was unexpectedly removed. As soon as it was light, the chief came over from the village with some of his people to beg the msungu to follow up the bad men and recover the stores they had stolen. John jumped at the opportunity. He agreed to do so if the chief would allow forty of his strongest young men to act as porters. He pointed out that the villagers had as great a cause of quarrel with the raiders as he had himself, so that the bargain he proposed was reasonable. The chief agreed to it at once. John's recent exploits in slaying the rhinoceros and the lion, his former successes against the raiders, and above all his fairness and punctuality in paying the villagers for their labour, had won him the respect of his neighbours, and they joined him with full confidence that the expedition would be successful. Preparations were quickly made, a considerable quantity of food was packed up, two runners were sent off with the letters, and by seven o'clock the safari was ready to start.

At the last moment Said Mohammed came up to John.

"With submission, sir," he said, "I offer myself as unit in this expeditionary force. I undertake to be no cipher, but integer, sir, and not a minus quantity. Need I remind you of the saying of some great and glorious general whose name I have forgotten, that an army marches upon its tummy? _Verb. sap_. Grub, sir, is the sinews of war, and astounding military gumption is no go without a cook. Furthermore, was I not honoured to interpose unworthy corpus between raging lion and your honour's nobility? If so, what is a life saved if not also preserved? Permit me, therefore, to be the life-preserver."

"All right. Hurry up! No time to waste," said John, remarking to Ferrier, as the Bengali went off to fetch his bundle: "I suppose he's afraid the place will be attacked again in our absence."

"A bad look-out if it is."

"Well, we shall soon find out whether the whole gang of the raiders are on the march. If they are, I don't think they'll come back, and as nobody else has molested us for more than a year I think we may be pretty easy. Now, khansaman, buck up; we're off."

John had already decided that every member of the party should go on foot. Donkeys might prove a great nuisance if the country was difficult; moreover, mounted men would form conspicuous objects in the plains. Accordingly Ferrier and he had donned stout-soled boots, and set off to tramp after Bill and Coja, who had gone ahead with the chief to select the men for the safari. Said Mohammed brought up the rear.

CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH--Tracking the Raiders

The two white men had just forded the river when they met the porters marching to the farm to fetch the loads laid there in readiness for them. It was plain that the chief was in earnest, for the forty young men were the most stalwart in his community. Each carried his bow and arrows, and as John turned and watched them striding lithely along he thought they would prove no mean antagonists in a fight. He went on with Ferrier to the village, had a short conversation with the chief, and then set off with Bill on the trail of the raiders, leaving Coja and Said Mohammed to bring the safari. He wished to go a few miles ahead in order to examine the trail and get some guidance of his course before the others came up.

At the outset the spoor was very easy to follow. The ground in the immediate neighbourhood of the village was soft red soil, on which the print of feet could be clearly seen. But it was impossible at first to distinguish the marks of the raiders from those of the villagers. Presently, however, they came to a stretch of grass-land, the grass cropped short by the villagers' cattle. Here again the trail was so crossed and mingled with the hoof-marks of the animals that had grazed there since daybreak that it was impossible to learn anything from it. But by and by the grass grew longer, and the passage of a numerous body of men through it was plainly indicated. There were two distinct tracks, one a narrow path, the other, a few yards to the left, broader. Both the white men were sufficiently experienced in African travel to know that the former was the track of the bearers among the party, proceeding in single file; the latter that of the Swahilis, who, insolent in their strain of Arab blood, domineer over the native tribes.

"They're going pretty fast," said John, as they marched on; "fast, that is, for men carrying loads."

"How do you know?" asked Ferrier.

"By the look of the spoor. Stop a minute and bend down. Here are the footprints of the niggers, you see, about thirty inches apart. Every man trod in the steps of the man in front, so that the prints are particularly clear. I know they went fast because their feet turned in a lot; look at the marks; you can't carry a load at any pace with your feet splayed. Now look at the other trail. The footsteps are farther apart--three feet, I should think; and one or two of the men had sandals; there's a flatter impression than bare feet make. I rather guess that the Swahilis set the pace and made the natives keep up: they could do that because if there's a lot of them they needn't all carry loads at the same time."

"I say, we could have done without Bill," said Ferrier, with a laugh, as they went on. "Did he teach you that?"

"No. I did some scouting at school. Bill can't make any inferences from what he sees, but he's got sharper eyes than I have, and can often spot the trail when I've lost it, especially on hard ground. The worst of this habit of marching in Indian file is that one can't tell how many the party consists of; at least, I can't; perhaps a more experienced scout could judge from the depth of the impression of the footprints. Look here; just as I thought. They stopped here to change loads. The Swahilis made a group here; the carriers put their loads on the grass at the side of the path; see how it's pressed down. Here's the mark of one of my ammunition boxes, I'll swear; and the next man had a cargo of maize; here are some of the grains."

"How far do you reckon they went before camping?"

"Well, judging by what Said Mohammed said, they made their attack between one and two--the hottest part of the day, when everybody would be sleepy. Allowing a couple of hours to sack the village and get the loads together, they might start at four and march till seven, so that in about an hour's time we ought to get to their last night's camp. The trail runs fairly straight, so it looks as if they're making direct for their refuge in the hills, and I hope to goodness it's pretty far away: the farther it is the better our chance of coming up with them before they get there. It runs west-nor'-west, you see" (he had taken out his pocket compass), "which leads to the foothills of Kenya. We ought to find ourselves on rocky ground presently, and may lose the trail."

"Hadn't we better wait for our men now?"

"We'll come to the raiders' camp first. Coja won't lose us; and I want to see what sort of camp they made: it may help us."

They hastened on. At one point the track swerved to the east to avoid a steep incline, but returned to its former direction immediately that had been passed. At another it led due west, skirting a swamp, at the edges of which the footprints were still deeper in the soft mud, which was, however, beginning to dry in the sun's rays. Then it crossed a shallow stream, and John wondered at first why the raiders had marched for some little distance up the bank before crossing, since the stream was fordable anywhere. He understood when Bill pointed to a long depression in the soft earth at the brink: a crocodile had lain there, and the men had given it a wide berth, for if it had heard or seen them it would have slipped noiselessly into the water and seized some hapless fellow as they crossed.

At length, after a rapid march of two hours, during which they had covered, as John estimated, about eight miles, they came suddenly to an open glade in the midst of scrub, where there were clear signs of the previous night's encampment. A thorn boma was left partly standing. Within it there were the black marks of fires, and a circular patch of discoloured grass where the loads had been stacked. Here John decided to halt and await the arrival of the safari. The smell of burnt wood was still so strong that he guessed the raiders had not made a very early start, giving him the hope of coming up with them before nightfall if his men would be content with a short rest.

It was an hour and a half before they came up, very hot and tired, Coja having not allowed a halt until they reached the stream, where they had delayed for a little while to drink and cool their feet. Judging that the raiders were quite out of sight, a belt of forest stretching across the country about a mile ahead, John did not think any harm would come of lighting fires; accordingly the men set about cooking their breakfast, and Said Mohammed made some coffee, which the white men drank out of tin mugs, with condensed milk. John took the opportunity to explain to the men that he wished to set off without delay, promising that with good luck they should recover their stolen goods before next morning. After an hour's rest, therefore, he gave the order to march.

They now adopted the plan he had arranged with Ferrier over night. They had come into country favourable to an ambuscade, and it was advisable to take all precautions. On starting, Ferrier and the safari struck off to the right, leaving John to follow the trail with Bill. The latter kept close to the track so long as it led over open country, where no trap was possible; but as soon as they reached the wood, John heliographed with his pocket mirror to Ferrier, now nearly a mile to the east, to halt until he had scouted among the trees. For some time there was no answering flash to his signals, and he feared the safari was out of touch, but after repeated trials the answer came, and he knew that all was well. John then entered the wood with Bill very cautiously, and found it so thick, and the ground so densely covered with undergrowth, that it was impossible to see the trail. There was nothing for it but to penetrate to the other side, and they did this as rapidly as possible, John thinking it scarcely probable that the raiders would have attempted to lay a trap for them in the wood, where there was no path. John found this the most trying experience he had yet encountered. Here he had to climb over a dead tree-trunk: there to cut his way through a jungle of bamboos, every stroke of his knife shaking a shower of dew from the canopy overhead until his shirt was soaked. He was unable to see a yard in front of him. His progress was all the more difficult because the wood covered a steep slope. It took nearly half-an-hour to get right through, though the distance in a straight line was less than half-a-mile: then they came out upon a sort of rocky plateau, and John got one of his rare glimpses of Mount Kenya, far to the west, its snow-clad peaks, for once clear of mist, gleaming dazzlingly in the sunlight. Leaving Bill to recover the trail, he hastened back to heliograph that the safari might advance, and by the time he had once more penetrated the wood and rejoined the Wanderobbo, Ferrier had come within sight in a hollow a mile and a half to the east. Bill having not yet found the trail on the hard ground, John signalled to Ferrier to halt again; the delay was vexatious, but it was important that the advance should not be continued until he had made quite sure of the direction.

Finding Bill at fault, John cast about for the lost trail in a systematic way. He laid down his rifle to mark the spot where he had emerged from the wood, and sent Bill to the left, himself going to the right, to examine the ground in ever-widening circles. The difficulty was greatly enhanced by the fact that almost all the raiders were barefooted, so that there was nothing to mark their passage over the hard soil. After searching for half-an-hour in the sweltering heat, and almost despairing, John suddenly observed, about two hundred yards from the spot where he had left his rifle, a tribe of black ants very busily engaged. Looking more closely, he was delighted to see that they were running over and over a grain or maize. Bill came up at his call, and instantly flinging himself upon his face, and peering along the surface of the soil northwards, he declared he saw marks of the scraping of sandals. John hastened in that direction, and within a few yards came upon a small round depression whence a pebble lying near by had evidently been kicked. He had no doubt that the trail was at last recovered, so he sent Bill back for his rifle, and then, finding from his compass that the line between the grain and the hole led in a north-westerly direction, towards a low hill, he ventured to set his course thither, finding, as he progressed, slight traces on the soil that proved his judgment to be correct.

The hill was about two miles away, and by the time he reached it he was so fatigued with trudging over the shelterless plain under the fierce sun that he was glad to throw himself under a thorn-bush at the foot of the slope and rest, first signalling his intention to Ferrier. An hour after, he rose and scouted to the top of the hill, being careful not to expose himself on the skyline, and lying down to take a good look round before proceeding. The plain stretched as far as the eye could reach, slightly undulating, with patches of grass and scrub. There was no sign of the raiders, but a herd of wildebeeste were quietly grazing half-a-mile ahead, from which John concluded that no men had recently passed that way. The march therefore was resumed. Half-an-hour afterwards he caught sight of a party of natives on a hill to the right, and at once signalled to Ferrier to examine them through his field-glass. In a few minutes he saw flashes, and made out from the message that there were no Swahilis among the natives, nor did they carry loads, but appeared to be a hunting party. From Ferrier's report it did not seem that any danger would attend an advance. Accordingly the march was continued, and shortly afterwards the natives caught sight of the safari and bolted into the bush. John wondered whether they would carry news of his approach to the raiders, but soon made up his mind to the contrary, for if what had come to his ears was true, the Swahilis had established a reign of terror in the district, and the neighbouring tribes would rather avoid them. It struck him, however, that it was very necessary to be even more carefully on his guard against premature discovery by the raiders, for these would force any natives they came in contact with to join their safari and fight for them. As it was now drawing towards nightfall, and there seemed no chance of coming up with the raiders, he decided to call a halt, and, striking to the right, joined Ferrier. The men, who had marched without a murmur through the hottest hours of the day, were very glad to drop their burdens and camp. Tired though they were, they at once set about surrounding the encampment with a boma. While they were doing this, John and Ferrier, accompanied by Bill, scouted for about two miles ahead to make sure that the raiders had not encamped in the vicinity, in which case an accidental noise might betray the safari. Discovering no sign of their presence, they returned to the men. They deliberated whether it was safe to light fires, and decided not to do so, though it meant a cold and dry supper.

Before they went to sleep, Bill, who was not usually communicative, told John more completely, with Coja's aid, the story of which he had hitherto given only scattered hints. He said that they were now drawing near to his own country, which lay only four marches distant beyond the mountain. Between it and their present camp was the country of the bad men. A long time ago he had been one of a considerable tribe, who for many years had enjoyed good hunting. Large herds of elephants had infested their country, and they had slain some with their spears in open hunting, but more by snaring them in pits. The flesh they ate, the tusks they buried for fear of the Masai and the Rendili, who plundered the weaker tribes. They were waiting for the coming of a safari to which they might sell their store of ivory.

The waiting was long, but the safari came at last--a large safari, commanded by brown men, not white men like the _bwana_, nor black like the people of those parts. Coja explained that Bill referred to Arabs. One member of the safari was the very man whom he had seen among the raiders. The Wanderobbo began to bargain with the Arabs, but these, as soon as they learnt where the ivory was buried, had treacherously fallen upon the tribe, and massacred all except a few women whom they spared to make slaves of, for the transport of the treasure. Bill had escaped by shamming dead when the slaughter was going on, and, lurking in the woods, he saw his wife among the slaves whom the Arabs loaded with the ivory. He followed the safari when it marched off with the spoils, and came in its track into the country of the bad men, who secretly gathered around it, and early one morning fell upon it in a fierce assault. From the shelter of a thick tree Bill watched the fighting. The Arabs had fire-sticks, and slew many of the bad men; but after a time they ceased to make the big noises; the fire-sticks had lost their magic. Seeing this, the bad men attacked still more fiercely, and in greater numbers. A whole day the fight lasted, and did not cease until night fell. Creeping up to the Arabs' camp and climbing a tree, Bill saw them bury the ivory by the light of their fires, working hard all night, and before morning came they broke out of their camp and forced a way through the enemy. These, following their custom, waited until daylight before they pursued the Arabs; then they set off, having no fear of them now that the firesticks were silent. Bill was too frightened to follow them up, but he learnt afterwards that the bad men caught the party up in two days and slew every one, and also the Wanderobbo whom they had enslaved. It was clear, however, that one at least had escaped. Bill remained in the tree until the bad men had gone, and then slipped away and took refuge with a Masai tribe south of his old home. But a time came when disaster overtook the Masai. Disease seized upon their cattle: they roamed about and suffered heavy defeats in war: and at length Bill left them, when almost starving, and built himself the little hut in the wood where John had found him.

Now he was happy. The msungu had been his friend. He had brought him into the very country of the bad men: and when he had punished the people who had robbed him, surely he would go farther, a little farther, and recover the ivory which lay in the earth awaiting its rightful master.

"But did not the bad men take it when they had killed the Arabs?" asked John.

No: they might have sought for it, but they would never find it. They could not tell where it had been concealed, and if they had returned to the camp they would not have discovered it, for the Arabs had strewed ashes from their fires over the spot, to hide the disturbance of the earth. Bill knew where it was; he could lead the msungu straight to the spot; and the msungu who had been his friend would show his friendliness still, and would perhaps buy the treasure when it was laid bare.

"What do you think of it?" John asked Ferrier, as they talked it over together.

"It sounds like a fairy tale. You may be sure that the 'bad men' did find it. They would naturally suppose it had been buried in the camp and search for it there."

"I'm not so sure. They're not a very intelligent lot, to begin with. Imagine a crowd of chawbacons----"

"What are they?"

"Oh, I suppose you haven't got 'em in Canada--raw country yokels who haven't any ideas beyond beans and bacon. Imagine them in the same case, chasing a party for twenty miles or more and then finding that they hadn't got what they supposed they had. They wouldn't know but what the treasure had been hidden anywhere along the twenty miles run, and they'd adjourn to the nearest 'pub.'"

"You may be right, though I guess no Canadian would give it up so soon. Anyway, we can't help the old fellow, can we?"

"We've got our own job to see through first, and that will be tough enough, I expect. The beggars must have marched at a tremendous pace, and we shall be short of food soon. If we don't catch them to-morrow we shall be in a pretty bad way, for the country seems practically a wilderness. But we won't croak yet. I'll take first watch while you sleep: I'll wake you at midnight; and we'll make an early start."

The camp was astir while it was still dark, and at dawn was on its way, observing the same precautions as before; indeed, John was even more careful, for being ignorant how far ahead the raiders were, it was necessary to run no risk of approaching them too rapidly. Again the course took a north-westerly direction, but after skirting one of the larger foothills of Mount Kenya, it bore a little more to the west. Bill said that they were now marching almost straight towards his old home. After two hours they came upon the site of the raiders' last camp, and John, finding the ashes of the fires warm, though the sun had not yet broken through the morning mist, concluded that they had been raked over not more than two hours before. This caused him some little uneasiness. Though no attempt had been made hitherto to trap the pursuers, he was still alive to the possibility of such an ambush being laid: it was possible also that the raiders had left a rearguard to advance behind the main body, after they had assured themselves that there was no pursuit. These considerations led him to swerve from the direct track, and proceed through a belt of scrub half-a-mile to the right of it, Ferrier with the safari marching at the same distance still farther to the east, and only at intervals being in sight. He intended to return to the track from time to time, when a favourable opportunity occurred, to make sure that he was still proceeding in the right direction.

It was fortunate that he adopted this precaution, for the first time he struck off to the left to revisit the trail he was astonished to find, distinctly imprinted on the dewy grass, the footsteps of men going in the reverse direction. The sun being now up, he at once signalled to Ferrier to halt, and then carefully examined the new trail. It was quite fresh; the trodden grass had not had time to erect itself; and after a careful scrutiny he came to the conclusion that the marks had been made by four or five men, all wearing sandals. He suspected from this that they were some of the Swahilis of the party, and suspicion became certainty when Bill discovered a tiny strip of white cotton on a spike of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush. The conclusion was irresistible that some of the raiders had doubled on their tracks in order to watch for and perhaps ambush any pursuers.

Feeling that he must find out exactly what had happened, he began with Bill cautiously to follow up the new track, looking warily ahead, and observing with especial care the few large trees that were to be seen here and there in the distance, for any flight of birds would at once indicate the presence of men. As they walked, they found that the trail curved slightly westward, which seemed to show that it would presently join the main track which they had quitted. John moved now more cautiously than ever, for if his supposition was correct, the men would halt before they actually reached the direct course, at some spot where they could overlook it.

As they proceeded, the ground rose and the scrub became thicker. But suddenly the bushes thinned away and they saw, at the top of a long incline, a clump of trees. And then they stopped short and dropped hurriedly to the ground. Before them, on the knoll, at the foot of a tree, they had caught sight of three white-clad men looking upwards among the branches. They had rifles. Without doubt this was the spot chosen for keeping watch on the trail. Wriggling under cover, at the cost of some scratches, John and the Wanderobbo saw a fourth man perched high up in the tree below which the others stood. Had he not been intently gazing towards the main track, and his companions looking up at him, it would scarcely have been possible for John to escape discovery.

The men were speaking. At the distance John could not distinguish what they said; foreign words are always difficult to pick up when the speakers are at all remote; but from a certain impatient intonation he gathered that the men had been for some time on the watch, and were weary or disappointed at the apparent fruitlessness of it. As he lay there, his heart jumped as he thought how easy it would be to shoot the men. He could take aim at his leisure, and pick off two of them with certainty. Taken by surprise, the others would probably bolt. But it would not be playing the game; he could not bring himself to stalk them as he would stalk a wild animal, though he knew that if they spied him and got first shot they would have no compunction about shooting him. For a moment he thought of dispatching Bill to fetch Ferrier; with his aid, backed by the natives with their bows and arrows, he might capture all four, or, if they showed fight, dispose of them. But he soon gave up the idea. The men might decamp before Ferrier could arrive; they might indeed see the Wanderobbo creeping through the bush, and, the most important consideration of all, a shot would certainly give the alarm to the main body of the raiders, and that would defeat his purpose. If they took to flight he would lose his only chance of recovering his rifles and ammunition, which was his immediate object. If they hastened back at the sound of the firing, he would find himself matched against overwhelming numbers, and the result would be disaster. His only hope of success lay in a sudden unexpected blow at the main body, when his numerical inferiority would be compensated by the paralyzing effect of surprise. How this blow was to be delivered he had at present no notion; it must be left to the guidance of circumstances; but certainly its prospects would be hopelessly jeopardized if the raiders' vigilance was aroused. Patience must be his watchword.

He lay and watched the Swahilis for half-an-hour by his watch. Then, evidently tired of their fruitless errand, they started to rejoin the main body. They came down the slope, passing within a few yards of where John and the Wanderobbo were concealed; but fortunately they did not retrace their steps along the path by which they had come, but struck off towards the direct course of the main column, which they would probably intersect, as John guessed, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile. If they had returned by the same way the marks of John's boots might possibly have escaped them unless they were accustomed to tracking; but if they had caught sight of them he felt that he would have been in a dangerous predicament. At that moment John wished that he could march barefoot like the natives, but he knew that it was a vain wish.

John told Bill to creep through the scrub and follow the men up for a little way, until he was sure that they had finally left the spot. For himself, he had suddenly resolved to climb the tree as the Swahili had done, and discover what outlook could be had from it. He found that the place had been admirably chosen. From a branch thirty feet above the ground the country was visible for miles around. On the west rose the giant mist-clad form of Mount Kenya; eastward the plain extended as far as the eye could reach. South and north he could scan the country through which the raiders had passed, and westward, from the appearance of the vegetation, he inferred that a considerable stream flowed. As he watched, he saw the four Swahilis emerge from the scrub, strike the track, and hasten towards the north. There was no doubt that they had dismissed the idea of being pursued.

When Bill came back, the two set off to rejoin the safari, which they found halted by a shallow stream about two miles away. John told Ferrier what he had discovered.

"I don't think they can be more than five or six miles ahead of us," he said. "We can easily come up with them by the time they camp, or soon after, and I think we ought to strike to-night."

"Have you any idea how?"

"None whatever. All will depend on the lie of the land and the kind of camp they make. I'll send Bill on ahead to make sure they don't alter their direction, and then we'll follow up and get to them by nightfall."

"It's to be hoped they won't get warning. I've seen two or three small parties of natives to-day, and they must have seen us. I suppose they won't give any information."

"I hope not. The chief danger is that the news of our safari will spread, and the raiders learn of it by accident. I don't think the natives will rush purposely to inform them, if they're the kind of tyrants we've heard they are."

"I shall be jolly glad when we come to grips with them. This marching is rather trying, and the men are getting the dumps. They seem to have thought we should overtake the fellows in a winking, and wipe them out with magic. Coja tells me they haven't been so far away from their village before."

"How's our failed B.A.?"

"Decidedly jumpy. He said just now that he feels O.K., excluding organs of ambulation, which are quite below par, owing to filamentous condition and conspicuous absence of beefiness. He has got rather spindly calves, to be sure. By the way, an hour ago we saw two black fellows looking at us through the scrub. We gave chase, but couldn't catch them. I hope they won't bring a horde of the 'bad men' upon us."

"No, indeed. We've got our hands pretty full as it is."

Bill returned by and by with the news that the whole party of raiders had rested in the scrub some distance to the north, but had now resumed their march. John set off at once on a parallel course, and at four o'clock halted again, judging that the raiders would now have chosen the spot for their encampment. Once more he sent Bill forward to reconnoitre, and learnt from him on his return that the raiders had stopped, evidently with no intention of going farther, near a small stream. Knowing that the African native is incapable of estimating distance, John, though he was tired, determined to press on with the Wanderobbo and discover how far off the camp was. It was an hour before he came in sight of it. Some of the men were engaged in erecting a boma; a few were fishing in the stream that flowed within about a hundred yards of the camp; others were cooking a meal. The ground about the camp was for the most part open, but there were patches of scrub here and there, and one or two clumps of woodland. The camp was placed on a hillock, the base of which was washed on one side by the stream. This wound away in a north-easterly direction, and at one point was a tract of tall elephant grass, lining the banks due north of the camp and stretching for about half-a-mile to the west, where it merged in dense scrub.