Chapter THE TENTH: Driving Sheep to Market (5)

The men immediately set to work to cut it up with their knives. While they were engaged in this task, John resolved to go a little farther in search of more delicate fare for Ferrier and himself. Rolling on the grass to dry himself, he put on his clothes and set off up-stream with the Wanderobbo, instructing the others to retrace their steps slowly so soon as they had tied up their loads. They had proceeded but a short distance when Bill discovered the track of congoni which had recently come down to the river to drink. Following it up, they by and by came in sight of a small herd moving leisurely across the plain to the left. Being to windward of them, it would be impossible to stalk them directly. The only chance of getting a shot was to make a long detour and come upon them from the further side. John's sporting instincts were roused. There was no fear of losing the track of his men, so he struck off with Bill at right angles to the river, and after walking rapidly for half-an-hour in a wide curve, Bill never losing sight of the game, they got ahead of them, and took cover in a clump of trees which the animals must pass if they did not change their direction. They came very slowly, and before reaching the trees swerved somewhat to the right. It was now or never. John took aim at the nearest of the herd, which presented its flank to him. His first shot brought it down: the rest, raising their heads and looking round for a moment, galloped off; and Bill hurried forward with John to cut from the dead beast as much as he could carry.

It was by this time more than an hour since they had left the men; and since it would be at least another hour before they could overtake them, John decided to hurry back as soon as Bill had prepared his load. He was sitting at the edge of the clump of trees, clasping his knees, and watching Bill's deft movements a few yards away, when he heard a slight rustling behind him. Thinking it might be a lion or hyena attracted by the scent of the game, he sprang up, grasping his rifle, only to be thrown on to his back by the onset of near a score of yelling savages. He had no opportunity of defending himself. His rifle had been knocked from his hand and was now in the possession of a tall Swahili, who grinned at him with malicious triumph as he lay on the ground, and ordered the savages to turn him over and tie his hands behind his back. Meanwhile some of the party had dashed after the Wanderobbo, who had fled towards the river at the first alarm. The old man was soon caught; John was hoisted to his feet; and in a few minutes he had the mortification of knowing that he was being marched, a prisoner, in a direction the exact opposite of the fort.

The men were in an ecstasy of delight over their capture. They laughed and jabbered among themselves, but John was unable to recognize the dialect. He could not ask Bill who they were, for the crestfallen old man was kept at a distance from him. His hands also had been tied behind his back. John ventured once to speak to the Swahili, but the only answer was a grunt.

They marched on, with intervals for rest, but without food, for the rest of the day. The country became more and more hilly as they proceeded, but the Swahili, who led the way, was evidently familiar with it. Just before sunset they came in sight of a stockaded village, perched up on a hill, and surrounded by wide well-cultivated fields. The Swahili called a halt while they were still some distance from the stockade, and, leaving his prisoners in the charge of a dozen of the men, went forward with the rest to the gate. There he held a long parley with the villagers, whom John could see thronging the stockade. The Swahili turned several times and pointed towards him, and then the talk began again, with much excited gesturing. John could not guess the meaning of the pantomime; the only thing that was clear was that it had some reference to him. At length, when it was almost dark, the Swahili turned away from the gate and came back to the remainder of his party. Whatever the subject of the discussion had been, the result was evidently satisfactory, for a contented smile overspread the man's swarthy face. He gave a curt order to the men: the prisoners were lifted from the ground where they had been laid, and urged towards the village with ungentle proddings from their captors' spears. They entered the gate and passed through a vast throng of excited people. John was now able to exchange a few words with Bill, who told him miserably that this was the village of the "bad men" who had destroyed the ivory caravan. There was no time for more; the two prisoners were again separated; amid yells from the men and shrieks of laughter from the women John was hustled into a noisome hut, and there left, tired and famished, to chew the cud of bitter reflection, amid the pressing attentions of innumerable pestilent insects.

"Here's a pretty go!" he thought. "I suppose they won't eat me, but what will they do? This Swahili is surely one of Juma's gang, but what is he doing here? If what Bill says is true, there'll be no love lost between Juma and these people. What a precious fool I've been! I wonder if those poor wretches with the hippo meat are collared too? Good heavens! if they get back safe to the fort, I hope Ferrier won't be mad enough to come to the rescue. If he does it's good-bye for us all. Oh! _what_ a fool I am!"

To know one's folly is a stage towards wisdom: many men never get so far.

John groaned, and shook his head and body in a vain attempt to get rid of his persistent visitors. He tried to release his arms, but failed. At last, exhausted by fatigue and want of food, and resigned to the stings he could not avoid, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Next morning, as soon as it was light, he was taken out of the hut, his arms were unbound, and he was given a bunch of bananas, which he ate ravenously, surrounded by a chattering, grinning crowd of villagers, men, women, and children, who watched him curiously, making what he felt to be very personal remarks. He looked around for his companion in misfortune, but could not see him. He made signs that he was thirsty, and a girl brought him a gourd of a sweetish-bitter liquor, which he drained at a draught, and felt so silly that he wondered if he was drunk. Then there was a great shouting, and the men went away. On their departure the women drew nearer, touched his clothes and his bandolier and ran back giggling, pointed to his fair skin where his shirt was open at the neck, whereat he blushed and they shrieked. One sportive damsel tugged at the leather watch-chain attached to his belt, and screamed when his silver watch came out of its fob. He thought with a kind of fuddled amusement that he might impress them by letting them hear it tick, and when one came and tried to pull his hair, he held the watch to her ear, and she fled away screeching.

What was going on? he wondered. There was a great stirring in the village. A man passed, and John saw that his face was hideously daubed with white, and his head surrounded with the skin of some animal. He carried a spear. Others similarly attired and armed came by. He got up to watch them more closely, and the spectators fell back and made a wide circle about him. Beyond them, in the centre of the village, men were thronging together. It flashed upon him in a moment: they were forming a war-party. The Swahili had come to enlist their aid. What inducements he had held out could only be guessed. Probably he had told them that a white man with great treasure was at their mercy. "Poor old Charley!" thought John: "it'll be a miracle if he isn't overwhelmed." For one mad moment he thought of making a dash to the gate, only to realize that he would never reach it alive. He groaned aloud, and the wretched little urchins around mocked him, booing with vast enjoyment.

Then he saw the Swahili approaching with the chief in all his war-paint. They stood opposite him, talking loud and fast, with many gesticulations. They were growing angry: what were they disputing about? The Swahili pointed in the direction of the fort: the chief shook his head and shouted. Could they be discussing whether to take him with them or leave him behind? With all his heart he hoped they would decide for the former course: he might perhaps escape from them when they approached the fort. But no: presently the Swahili sullenly gave way: John guessed that he felt that numbers were against him. What was his fate to be? Was he to be held as a hostage for the due fulfilment of promises held out? He could not tell. It was clear that he was to be left in the village.

The muster was complete. Amid a tremendous clamour the war-party moved towards the gate. With a sinking of the heart John guessed at their number: there must be three or four hundred. They marched out, the Swahili among them, leaving two of his party evidently to keep a watch on the prisoners--or the prisoner, for where was Bill? They had of course recognized him as a Wanderobbo: had they butchered him at once? No: there he was, at the entrance of a small hut thirty yards away. John took courage at the sight of him. If he was spared, it must be because, being employed by white men, he might have some commercial value. It occurred to John now that Juma, the prime mover in these machinations, would probably stop short of the actual murder of a white man, and might hold him to ransom. But this did not relieve his anxiety about Ferrier. The young Canadian would certainly not yield without a struggle, and in that struggle he might well lose his life.

The two men left on guard tied his hands again and took him back to his hut. John made them understand by signs that he did not wish to be cooped up in its foetid atmosphere, and they let him sit at the entrance, standing close by with their spears. He saw now that he was at the highest part of the village, overlooking a vast expanse of the lower country. There was the war-party, already a dark blot amid the green. He could see the river winding its way for miles and miles over the plain, until it became little more than a silver streak in the sunlight. Was it his fancy, or did he descry in the far distance the island like a black spot on a silver plate?

Suddenly he remembered that he had in his pocket the little mirror with which he had signalled to Ferrier on the march from the farm. Perhaps he could signal to him now--tell him of his plight, and warn him of the reinforcement of the enemy. The warning would be of little use to him, for he could not materially strengthen his defences; but it would at least show him the folly and the impossibility of attempting a rescue. Neither his guards nor the villagers would understand what he was about. He took the mirror from his pocket. The group of onlookers who had never left him came nearer: what was this piece of solid water that the msungu held?

A woman approached him shyly: he held the mirror up to her; she caught sight of a black smiling face with sharp-filed teeth, and ran away in consternation, screaming that it was a devil. As she stood explaining the marvel to her friends, John threw a flash among them: they covered their eyes, and flew like the wind. Then he turned the glass towards the fort, and began to make tentative flashes. The guards watched him, curiously, stolidly; what was the msungu doing? Again and again he caught the sunbeam, and turned the mirror this way and that. For a long time there was no answer: he feared the signal had not been seen. Still he persevered. The guards had ceased to pay any attention to him. At last he thought he saw a twinkling point of light. Yes: there it was again: Ferrier was flashing back. Then he began to spell out his message--

"Prisoner: large war-party coming towards you. Good luck!"

And presently, with much difficulty, for Ferrier's watchcase was a poor instrument, he read the answer. He could not be sure of it, but it seemed to be--

"Poor old chap! Never say die."

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH--Shooting the Rapids

The curiosity of the villagers was lulled after a time, and they went about their usual occupations. The few men left lolled and loafed and played at knuckle-bones: the women went into the fields and returned loaded with vegetables. John found that he was not to be ill-treated; he was given food when the villagers had their meals, and nobody molested him. The guards dozed near by. But when night came it was clear that the men had had orders to watch him strictly. He was bound both hand and foot and taken into the hut, the two men remaining with the evident intention of keeping him company through the night. Before he entered he saw that Bill was not held of so much account. He too was bound, but to all appearance he was left to himself: indeed, the hut assigned to him, half in ruins, was so small that there would scarcely have been room in it for another occupant.

John's discomfort this night sprang less from the insects, to which he had become inured, than from the proximity of his guards. Armed with spears, they did not trouble to keep awake, and he soon had proof that snoring is not, as Ferrier had suggested, an accomplishment only of civilized races. They might have been trumpeters! He lay oppressed in the hot stifling air. Deep silence reigned in the village.

Escape! Why not try? The gate would be unguarded: the negro never keeps watch unless he is on the war-path, and even then very slackly. If he once gained the outside, he would have at least some hours in which to make good his flight. His guards might wake; they might or might not discover that he had gone; if they did miss him, it would be contrary to their instinct and their custom if they pursued him in the dark. There was Bill to be considered: he must not be left behind. But the first thing was to rid himself of his bonds, and that would be no easy matter.

Lying still to think out his plan, he saw a chance. All was hushed, but for the tempestuous snores. It was pitch dark. The guards lay together near the entrance. With careful movements he rolled and edged and wriggled across the floor until he knew that he was within a few inches of the men. Then, groping with his bound wrists, he sought for a spear. He touched it, grasped it, drew it gently towards him. It resisted: the guard was lying half upon it. He pulled it again: the snoring ceased with a sudden snap, and John thought it was all over. But there was a grunt; the man turned heavily on his side; and the music began again. The spear was now freed. By careful manoeuvring John got the head between his knees, and holding it fast, began to saw the thongs that bound his wrists. The weapon was sharp: the strands parted; he rubbed the skin to relieve the smarting pain, and then, with two sharp cuts, released his ankles.

He stood erect and listened. Only those horn-blasts at his feet. He peered through the entrance. The darkness without was scarcely less than within. Carefully, and with a shiver of apprehension, John stepped over the two stretched forms, in nervous terror lest he should plant a foot on one of them. He gained the entrance, glancing warily to right and left, and stepped into the open, snuffing greedily at the cool air. The village was asleep, calm as the stars twinkling overhead.

The tumble-down hut in which Bill lay was thirty yards nearer to the gate. Four huts intervened. John crept round to the back of them and stole along on tip-toe. He came to the fifth hut, which was separated from the fourth by a passage a yard wide. Groping down this, he reached the entrance, and after another look round, put his head within. All was silent. Perhaps the Wanderobbo tribe did not snore! He called the man's name softly.

"Bwana!" whispered Bill.

In a trice John was beside him. In ten seconds he had cut the ropes. In twenty both were at the back of the hut. Now Bill took the lead. He plunged into a banana plantation behind the line of huts, and made his way swiftly towards the stockade. They came to the gate: it was unguarded. Being merely a sort of strong hurdle of thorn, held in position by a few logs, its removal was easy. They passed out, and lifted the gate back to its former position, though, of course, they were unable to fasten it. They then ran across the stretch of trodden grass outside the village, down the hill towards the river.

Far to the left a lion roared, and John heard his companion utter the strange gulping sound which in the negro indicates fright. A night journey in these wilds was a perilous undertaking. They had one spear between them, a paltry weapon if they should be pounced upon by some beast of prey. There was just enough light from the stars to enable them to choose the opener ground, avoiding bush and trees in which wild beasts might lurk. They moved fast, for John had set his heart on reaching the neighbourhood of the fort before dawn. There were few able-bodied men left in the village, but these would turn out in the morning as soon as the escape was discovered, and scour the surrounding country. This was reason enough for haste, but there was another. If they did not succeed in entering the fort before daylight, it would probably be impossible until the following night. The attack in all likelihood had not yet been made; the villagers would scarcely attempt it after their long march; John's whole mind was set on standing by Ferrier's side when the assault came.

On they went, running when the ground permitted. Every now and then John had to stop for Bill's sake, the poor old man, weakened by terror and hunger (John discovered afterwards that he had had no food all day), being unequal to the pace. Presently, in descending too rapidly a sharp declivity, John slipped and sprained himself. When he started again every movement was painful. To go at any great speed was now impossible. Still he pushed on, grudging every lost minute of the night.

He could not tell what the time was; it was too dark to see his watch. His pain grew worse at every step, and though he limped along gamely, he had at length to confess himself done, and sank to the ground. His distress of mind was as great as that of his body. Was he doomed to fail? As he crouched miserably in the grass he heard the swirling of the river close at his right hand. He would go to it and bathe his aching legs. Bill expostulated: there were sure to be crocodiles; but John would not be gainsaid. He dragged himself towards the river, and sat down to rest on a small tree-trunk which had apparently been washed ashore. In the faint light he saw others dotted about. An idea flashed upon him. Could they make a raft? Bill had never heard of such a thing: John did not know if there was a word for it. But he made him understand that he was to collect some of the smaller logs, and then to lash them together with strands of the creeping plants which grew in abundance around. It was hard work and slow in the darkness, John himself being unable to move freely; but at length something in the semblance of a raft lay beside him. Rising with difficulty, he helped Bill to carry it the few yards to the water; then, peering around for crocodiles, which they would hardly have seen if any had lain there, they launched the raft and managed to scramble on board, each carrying a branch to steer with. The current was swift; there was no need for paddling; and thus, perched precariously on their crazy craft, they floated down the stream.

At times they heard movements on one bank or the other. Once they heard the horrid snap of a crocodile's jaws. A little farther on the raft bumped against something; there was a swirl of water, and John went hot and cold at the suspicion that they had collided with a hippopotamus. The current bore them past in safety, to his inexpressible relief; one heave of the monster's body would have turned them over.

So they went on, how long John could not tell. The darkness seemed to be lifting: from the banks came sounds of awakening life: where were they? The river was flowing more swiftly; it was racing; and John suddenly realized with a gasp that he had entered the rapids at the head of the pool. With frantic movements of the paddles they tried to steer into the bank; but the current was too much for them; the lumbering craft was swept along at ever quickening speed; they were helpless. Dropping their paddles--the spear was already gone--they held on for dear life to the lashings. Some of them snapped: one of the outer logs was wrenched away; the raft whirled round, and every moment John expected it to break apart and hurl them into the race. Still he clung on with convulsive grip. Bill was flat on his face with his hands over the edge. On they went, jerked and jarred, until with startling suddenness they were shot over a rock, and found themselves floating on the pool.

The raft was almost in pieces, but it floated more slowly towards the island. John's relief at finding himself and his companion yet alive was dashed by a new anxiety. Dawn was glimmering in the sky. If they were not rescued they would float through the pool to the longer and even more dangerous series of rapids at the further end. They might be seen by the enemy on the bank. He could not swim to the fort; his whole body was stiff and racked with pain; his limbs would fail him. The raft was drifting past the fort; very slowly, for it was no longer in the middle of the current; but being without anything to serve as a paddle, the two could do nothing to check its steady progress towards the lower rapids. There was only one chance. He called to Bill to shout at the top of his voice, and putting two fingers to his lips, he blew a shrill whistle which no white man would fail to recognize. In a moment there came an answering whistle from the fort. Dimly he saw figures at the wall. He shouted: a cheery cry answered him: and in a few moments he saw Ferrier and four men lug a canoe to the gate and put off to the rescue.

But the whistle and the shouts had been heard by the enemy, who were already astir. John could not yet see them, but he heard their yells, and knew that they were swarming towards the pool.

"All right, old man, we've got the start of them," cried Ferrier, as the canoe rapidly approached.

It was a race between the canoe and the current, between the rescuers and the enemy. A shot rang out: a flight of arrows hissed into the water. The raft was drifting within range of the enemy; but in the half-darkness and against the background of wood on the shore the small floating object offered but an indifferent mark. Had the day been even a few minutes older the occupants of the raft would have stood a poor chance against the arrows, to say nothing of the rifles, of the crowd that could now be seen flitting like shadows round the margin of the pool. The greatest source of alarm, however, was not the imperfect shooting of the enemy, but the rapids to which the raft was drawing ever nearer. Weakened as it was by its passage of the upper rapids, it was inconceivable that it could survive the second and far more formidable strain. The rush of the water could already be heard; the movement of the raft was perceptibly quickening. Would Ferrier arrive in time? And if he did overtake the raft, would he too not run a fearful risk of being drawn into the stream and hurled along in utter helplessness? The shouts from the shore redoubled in volume; arrows flew more and more thickly; and John had almost yielded to despair when the canoe shot up alongside at an amazing pace. Some one grasped the raft; the crew backed water with all their might. Bill plunged into the water and scrambled on board the canoe.

"I can't move; I've ricked myself," cried John. "You must lug me in."

Ferrier leant over, grasped him, and hauled him by main force into the canoe. Then the four sturdy natives dug their paddles into the water. The enemy had reached the brink; some were already on the causeway; but at this moment four rifles flashed from the fort, and a man toppled off the causeway into the pool. The others halted. The canoe sped on; a bullet splashed in its wake; more arrows fell perilously near; but just as the enemy had gained courage to rush over the causeway again, Ferrier steered the canoe away from that side and guided it round to the lower end of the island where landing was easier. The canoe scraped the shore: its occupants sprang to land: and with Ferrier's aid the negroes carried John up to the wall, where willing hands hoisted him over.

"A near shave, old chap," said Ferrier. "You look awfully done up."

"Pretty nearly crocked," said John, with a feeble smile. "Are those beggars attacking?"

"No," replied Ferrier, looking over the wall. "They've gone back. It's not light enough yet."

"Thank goodness! I'm no good at present; I'm----"

"Don't you worry," interrupted Ferrier, seeing his lips quivering. "Just lie easy for a bit: I'll bring you something to eat."

John closed his eyes and shivered in his drenched clothes. Ferrier got two of the men to carry him to the fire, and in a few moments gave him a mug of soup.

"You'll feel better after that: hippo soup, my boy."

"They got back safely then?"

"Of course they did, an hour after sundown. They hid in the woods yonder until the coast was clear. I gave them a good ragging for leaving you."

"That wasn't fair; we left them."

"So they said. You may imagine what a funk I was in when they came back without you. I didn't sleep a wink all night."

"Poor old chap! We went after congoni when they were cutting up the hippo, and were rushed as neatly as possible, and carried off to the village of Bill's 'bad men' in the hills. Our captors were evidently an embassy from Juma to enlist the chief's assistance. Three or four hundred warriors in full fig left yesterday morning: have you seen anything of them?"

"Not yet. We heard a great hullabaloo in Juma's camp last night, and I guessed the lot you signalled about had come in. I was glad you signalled; it was a relief to know you were alive. I wished I could come up and rescue you, and I'd have had a shot at it if you hadn't told me the war-party were coming. Of course that dished it. I couldn't have got through, and I'm afraid our fellows wouldn't have held out long if I'd left them."

"Of course not. It would have been simply mad to try it."

"All the same, it was pretty rotten having to stop here able to do nothing. I chafed a good deal, I can tell you. When I got your message, as the enemy were very quiet I sent Coja and one of my askaris out to see if they could spy out where you were; and what do you think--Said Mohammed insisted on going too."

"Well, I'm hanged!"

"He said it was quite impossible for him to pursue the even tenor of his way while you, his boss and patron, were in parlous circs. and durance vile. I'm beginning to think the Bengali has been libelled; go deep enough and you'll find a man. Anyway, he insisted on going, and I'm sorry to say none of the three has come back."

John groaned from utter weariness and disappointment.

"What a mess I've made of everything!" he said. "If ever we get safely out of this I'll not go rampaging after stolen rifles again. Look what I've brought on everybody!"

"Utter rot! Nobody came against his will, and who could foresee all this? We've had amazing luck really, and as for getting safely out of it--but look here, old man, you mustn't shiver like that. I'm a fat-headed chump. Off with your clothes; they're sopping. We haven't got a change, but you won't shock any one's modesty. I'll rub you dry with some of Said's cloths; your things will dry in no time, and I'll try massage for your sprain. You'll take a good stiff dose of quinine, too; we can't have an invalid on our hands."

John winced as he rose to strip. Ferrier got his clothes off, rubbed him vigorously with cloths ("Shout when I hurt," he said), then rolled him in a blanket and laid him down by the fire, "To sweat it out, you know."

"Just go and look after Bill," said John, feeling comfortably lazy.

"Bill's all right, bless your heart! He's got no clothes to dry, and he's tucking into roast hippo like one o'clock. It's the last of it, by the way. It bucked the men up wonderfully. I wish we had some more."

"How do we stand for food?" asked John anxiously.

"Never you mind about food. You shall have your dinner when the time comes. The best thing you can do is to go to sleep, and when you wake you can tell me how you managed to escape from the 'bad men.' Are they very bad, like the little girl who was horrid? No, you needn't answer; just shut your eyes while I count ten, and you'll sleep like a top."

Two hours later, the man on guard at the gate, one of Ferrier's askaris, reported that a number of men were marching across the plain towards the causeway. Ferrier went to the gate, and saw that the group consisted of two Swahilis and four of their followers. A great throng of black men stood at the edge of the wood, giving no sign of an intention to move.

"A deputation, I presume," thought Ferrier. "Coming to offer us terms!"

The men advanced along the causeway, the Swahilis first. When they had come half-way Ferrier told the askari at his side to order them to stop. They came to a halt immediately.

"Ask 'em if one of them is Juma," said Ferrier.

No: one was Sadi ben Asmani, the other Jumbi ben Abdullah.

"Then you may tell Sadi ben Asmani and Jumbi ben Abdullah that I have nothing to say to them, and they had better be off, sharp."

When this was interpreted the Swahilis glowered. One of them began to speak, but Ferrier signed to him to be silent.

"Tell them I'll listen to the others, but won't hear a word from them."

The causeway being too narrow for two men to pass securely, the file faced about and retreated to the shore. Then they came on again, the negroes this time leading, and the Swahilis remaining at the end of the causeway. The first negro, a finely proportioned fellow whom it was a pleasure to look upon, began to address the white man, using his hands freely.

"What does he say?" asked Ferrier.

The askari did not know his dialect. From the crowd of men who had gathered at the wall one stepped forward saying that he knew it.

"Well, tell me what he says."

"Him say msungu come out: no lib for no more fight. Great big lot o' black men: msungu no can run away."

"You can tell him that the msungu won't come out, and the black men had better run away. They have come to fight us, who never did them any harm. They have come to help a lot of thieves and murderers, who have stolen the goods of the black men round about. This fort is where they lived, and where they kept the goods they stole. The fort now belongs to the msungu. A great many wasungu are now coming from their fort far away to punish them, and when they come they will scatter them as the lion scatters sheep. Tell them we are quite happy; we aren't a bit afraid of them; we have beaten them twice, and we'll beat them again. They had better take up their cook-pots and go home."

This little speech Ferrier delivered sentence by sentence, wondering how much of it was fairly translated. The deputation clearly gathered the gist of it, for with every sentence they became manifestly more incensed. At the close they shouted and waved their arms, and then the leader, with the air of one playing his trump card, cried out that the msungu's talk was fool's talk, for they held a sheep-faced msungu a prisoner in their village far away, and if their demand was not instantly complied with, the sheep-faced msungu would be killed.

"By Jove!" thought Ferrier, "they didn't recognize old John then. What a tremendous lark! I'll give them a shocker."

To the evident amazement of the natives he laughed heartily. Then, bidding them stand where they were until he came back to them, he returned into the fort.

"I say, John," he said, with a chuckle, shaking the sleeping form; "wake up, old chap. There's a deputation outside summoning us to surrender, and threatening if we don't to slaughter a sheep-faced msungu--sheep-faced, old chap!--whom they've got penned up in their village. Come and show yourself; I bet they'll look sheepish. It was evidently too dark to see you when you came down on your raft. Slip your things on: you don't look the same man in that blanket."

John laughed and slipped on his shirt and breeches, now thoroughly dry. His sun-helmet, which had been fastened on by a strap, was rather pulpy, but Ferrier clapped it on his head, saying that it didn't matter. In a few seconds he had limped to the gate, and stood at Ferrier's side, smiling very amiably.

The natives were struck dumb with astonishment. The Swahilis could not have been more confounded if they had seen a ghost. After gazing for a full minute at the msungu whom they imagined to be in safe custody fifteen miles away, they turned round and marched back in silence, only breaking into excited talk when they reached the shore. The two white men stood watching them until they rejoined the vast throng gathered at the edge of the wood.

"They've got something to digest," said Ferrier, with a laugh. "Now we'll go and get some dinner."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST--A Combined Assault

"Think they'll give it up?" said Ferrier, as they sat over their dinner.

"Not they! Those fellows haven't come all the way from their village for nothing. They wouldn't have come at all but for some strong inducement, for Juma isn't an old friend of theirs, remember."

"Well, there's very little inducement so far as I can see. There's next to no loot bar the rifles and ammunition, and Juma would bag those if he licked us. The others would have a very poor look-in."

"You forget the sort of old curiosity shop collection that the men were so delighted with. The 'bad men' would get those, of course."

"It's very little among so many; you said there were about four hundred of them."

"Yes, but Juma wouldn't be over particular as to what he promised. All he wanted was to get their help. If he were to lick us, he could safely defy the 'bad men,' for with the rifles and practically unlimited ammunition he could do what he liked with 'em. He's sure to attack us, maybe to-day, maybe to-morrow; and the best thing we can do is to strengthen our defences. We shall have all our work cut out to keep 'em off this time: we're three rifles short; I suppose Coja and the others took theirs with them?"

"Yes, unfortunately. But I've already begun to strengthen the defences--started when I got your message."

"Good man! What did you do?"

"First thing, I cut down some of the young trees at the further end of the island. I thought they might give cover to the enemy if they tried an attack in that quarter. Then it occurred to me that if we could raise a sort of bastion to jut over the wall by the gate yonder, we could fire at them without exposing ourselves, and--what do they call it?--enfilade them."

"Capital! I wondered what that rummy erection meant. Didn't like to say so, but it looks like a funeral pyre."

"Well, it's not finished, you know. It took us a good time to cut down the trees and strip off the branches. The enemy didn't see what we were about until we had got a pretty good pile of logs, and then they began shooting at us--with arrows; they didn't want to waste ammunition, I suppose. I had to draw the men off then, and we haven't gone at it again: your arrival has put everything else in the shade."

"We may as well finish that bastion now, at any rate, and put up another on the other side of the gate, if there's wood enough. Sorry I can't help you; I'm too stiff. You'll have to perch me up on one of the bastions when the attack comes, and leave me there."

"Oh, you'll soon be all right. I'll give you a good rubbing by and by with hippo grease; it'll be as good as goose fat, and that's what the old wives use, isn't it?"

Ferrier set the men to work on the bastions, instructing them how to pile the logs and to interlace the branches they had lopped off, so as to form a kind of parapet, the interstices between the branches making natural loopholes.

They were still engaged on this task, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when Ferrier's attention was attracted by movements among the enemy, who formed a dense black mass, with a few white spots, against the background of trees. He thought that the signs of activity portended an attack, and called to some of the men to occupy the one bastion that was finished. They obeyed quickly, carrying John with them at his own order. But it was soon apparent that the enemy were not contemplating an immediate assault. They suddenly threw themselves on the ground in a large circle, three ranks deep, the Swahilis, eight in number, standing at the centre.

"A council of war: what they call a shauri," said John.

It was soon seen that there was a difference of opinion among the assembly. At first the discussion proceeded in a quiet and orderly manner, the sound of voices reaching the fort very faintly. But presently there were clear signs of excitement. Some of the warriors sprang up, and harangued the Swahilis fiercely, brandishing their spears in the direction of the fort. Their voices were raised; the tumult increased moment by moment; and the sound became a continuous roar, like the noise of surf at a distance.

"The allies are at loggerheads," said Ferrier. "They may raise the siege."

The chief of the "bad men" was in fact demanding to know why the Swahilis had brought him and his men on a fool's errand. Where was the promised spoil? In a fort, defended by a wall, a pool of water, and an army led by wasungu. How had the msungu whom they had left in the village, bound and under guard, come into the fort? Surely by magic; and if the wasungu had such wonderful medicine it was useless to attack them.

To this Juma--for it was he--replied that the spoil was indeed within the fort, but the defences were not so formidable as they appeared. The wall had been partly demolished; the pool could be swum, it contained no crocodiles; and as for the men within, it was clear they must be very weak, for they had taken no food into the fort for many days. Nor could they get any; no doubt an attempt had been made that morning, and found to be impossible because of the current. (Such was his explanation of the incident of the raft.) And as for the msungu who had reappeared so mysteriously, it was no magic, but the carelessness of the guards that accounted for that: the msungu must have escaped, and not being afraid of the dark had marched during the night.

This aspersion on the trustworthiness of the guards roused the chief to fury. Springing up, he demanded the instant fulfilment of the promise made to him. He worked himself up to an ecstasy of indignation; his men caught fire from him; and when the tumult was at its height they suddenly wheeled round and, following their chief, began to march off towards their village.

"This looks promising, certainly," said John, who had watched the proceedings closely. "If we could only get out we might even enlist those fellows on our side."

But in a few moments a change came over the scene. Six painted warriors came running from the north-west to meet the marching force, which halted, swallowing up the runners into its own mass. A few minutes passed; then the whole body wheeled about and returned to the spot where the Swahilis and their negroes were still grouped in a circle.

"Men from the village come to report our escape," said John.

"But why should that make the chief turn back?" rejoined Ferrier. "It ought to have the opposite effect."

"I take it that the chief is so mad at being done that he has decided not to go until he has caught me again."

"But your escape is no news to him. They've seen you already."

"That's true. Well, I can't account for it; but it's clear that those six fellows have caused a change in the tide, and I wish them at Halifax."

The conference was resumed, and continued until dark. There was no further outburst. Ferrier utilized the time to finish the second bastion: it was impossible to doubt that the enemy was planning an attack. It would not be made in the night, but must be looked for as soon as morning broke. Ferrier's expression was very grave as he helped John to reach his little grass hut in the centre of the fort. He had made an inspection of the stock of provisions during the morning, and knew that it would not last beyond another day.

"I won't worry John to-night," he thought, "but he'll have to know in the morning."

Though convinced that no attack would be made during the dark hours, Ferrier took the precaution of putting four men on sentry-go. He insisted on John's going to bed as soon as he had had his massaging, and sat down by the fire himself, in no cheerful frame of mind. He knew he would get little sleep that night, for the negro, though willing enough, is ever an untrustworthy sentinel. And when he reflected on the horde of savage enemies without, he could not look forward with confidence to the issue of the coming fight. He canvassed the possibility of help coming from Nairobi or Fort Hall, reckoning how long it would take for the messenger to reach Mr. Gillespie, and how long for a rescue party to gain the fort. But he found the very elements of the calculation uncertain; try as he might, he could not recollect clearly how many days had passed since they left the farm. Never before had he understood the savage man's indifference to time; it was now clear; time is an invention of civilization.

While he was sitting thus brooding over the fire, one of the sentries, an askari of his original safari, came running to him.

"Bwana," he said, "man ober dere."

He pointed towards the western end of the island. Ferrier sprang up, seizing rifle and revolver: surely the enemy had not crossed the river in the darkness and crept round to attack the fort from this side? Hastening to the wall, he mounted upon it and peered into the night. Nothing could be seen. But in a moment he thought he heard a faint sound. He listened intently: yes, he heard it again; it was a kind of whinny--the signal he had arranged with Coja in case he should return after sunset. The men were safe, then; he rejoiced for their own sake, and because it meant the addition of three good rifles to the morrow's defence. Calling up two of the men, he had the canoe lowered and carried down to the water, himself accompanying them, since he could never be sure that unreasoning panic might not seize them. The canoe was launched and paddled quietly to the farther shore of the pool. Two men stepped down to meet it: they were Coja and the askari.

"Where is Said Mohammed?" asked Ferrier.

"Him gone, sah," replied Coja: "dunno where he are."

"You lost him?"

"Long long way ober dere."

"Before it was dark?"

"Long time, sah,"

"Did you look for him?"

"Oh yes, sah, look for him long time, sure nuff."

"Well, get in. You're a couple of muffs, to say the least. What were you doing?"

Coja explained that about midday, as they were fording the river, a number of leeches fastened on their legs. They jumped about to rid themselves of the creatures, and suddenly a huge brown crocodile, waked by the disturbance, slid off a mud bank into the stream, within a foot or two of Said Mohammed. The Bengali heard the flop of the loathsome reptile just in time to spring out of its reach. The others dashed across the river at full speed: Said Mohammed ran back to the bank they had left, scrambled up, and sped away as fast as his legs would carry him into the bush. Coja did not venture to recross the stream at that spot: he sought a ford higher up, but was long in finding one. Both he and the askari waded over and searched along the bank; they did not dare to shout, for fear of bringing an enemy upon them; and failing after a long time to discover any trace of the Bengali, they had thought it best to return to the fort.

"And did you find the place where the _bwana_ and Bill are kept?" asked Ferrier.

"No, sah: them's dead, sure miff."

"They're here, and alive," he said. "I was a fool to let the men go," was his unspoken thought.

The men were amazed and delighted that the master had returned. As for Said Mohammed, it was doubtful whether his fate gave them any concern.

The night passed in peace. Ferrier felt very weary in the morning, but John, after a long sleep, rose much refreshed, though he still found moving difficult. About eight o'clock there was a cry from the gate that the enemy were rushing down towards the causeway. The bastions were instantly manned, John taking post in one and Ferrier in the other, dividing the askaris equally between them. Twenty men with spears and bows and arrows were told off to hold the broken portion of the wall on either side of the gate, where the attack was most to be feared. The remainder of the force were stationed at various points, to be ready to run wherever they were called, and to keep watch on the opposite side of the island.

John was surprised to see that the enemy did not take to the water, as they had done on the former occasion, but came in a yelling line along the causeway. They were Juma's newest allies, and being without personal experience of the reception their friends had formerly met with, they came rushing across with a reckless courage. When the first man had reached the middle of the causeway, a volley was fired simultaneously from each of the bastions, and half the line fell into the water, uttering dreadful yells. There was a momentary pause; but the leader had escaped; he bounded forward, followed by the survivors and others who had not come within the line of fire. The shore behind was thick with black warriors, hideous in their war-paint, and shouting furiously. Only Ferrier's rifle was double-barrelled; John's had been taken from him when he was captured; and before the men could reload, several of the enemy had reached the end of the causeway, and, springing into the water at the gap, gained the shelf of land beneath the wall. Ferrier's rifle disposed of one of them; the rest rushed up to the gate and the ruined rampart, and were in a moment fighting hand-to-hand with the men within.

"Keep your fire on the causeway," shouted John, who then called to some of the men in reserve to mount the wall and fling stones on the men trying to clamber up. A second volley from either side crashed into the negroes racing towards the fort. Only two of them got across. Those behind who had not been struck down came to a sudden halt, only to be pushed on by those surging in the rear. The result was that a score of unhurt negroes were hustled into the water. John forbore to fire at these, but as soon as his men had reloaded, sent another volley among those who were still running along. Meanwhile the defenders of the wall had beaten off the assault of the men below, who were at a hopeless disadvantage. Two or three fell groaning to the ground, transfixed with spears; the rest leapt into the pool, and struck out frantically for the shore. The sight of this retreat, and a fourth volley from their unseen enemy, shattered the confidence of the bravest negroes. There was wild confusion on the causeway. Those upon it could not retreat because of the pressure of their comrades behind. They jumped into the water on both sides. The others, seeing that all was lost, fled back towards the wood. In ten minutes after the first attack they were in full flight.