Wilmshurst of the Frontier Force Part 18

"No go for look, sah," he replied. "Me know one time quick. Good man; him ride like de wind."

"Then bring him here," continued Wilmshurst.

"Him here, sah--me, Bela Mos.h.i.+."

"I didn't know that you could ride," remarked the subaltern dubiously, fancying that Bela Mos.h.i.+ in his desire to accompany him was inventing a fairy tale concerning his equestrian abilities.

"Me one-time groom in Freetown, sah," declared Bela Mos.h.i.+. "Me lib for ride any old hoss till him bust."

"I'll try you," announced Wilmshurst. "If you are wasting my time look out for squalls."

At the lines where the horses were picketed the Haussa picked out a powerful-looking brute--a "salted" Cape horse which had shown considerable temper at previous times.

Vaulting upon the animal Bela Mos.h.i.+ rode it barebacked, urging it at a gallop and finis.h.i.+ng by taking a formidable obstacle in the shape of a cactus-bush.

"How can do, sah?" he asked.

"Good enough," replied Wilmshurst. "Cut off and pack your kit. We have only ten minutes."

Well within the time specified the Haussa was ready for the trek, his kit consisting of a blanket, rifle and ammunition, a haversack and his cooking utensils. In addition he carried his master's water-filter and a light waterproof tent weighing together with the socketed poles a little over two pounds.

"Good luck, old man!" exclaimed Spofforth, as his brother subaltern rode off to join the patrol. "Kindest regards to MacGregor when you meet him. Tell him how awfully delighted all of us will be to see him."

Wilmshurst's new comrades were all men of the Rhodesian farmer type, well set-up, st.u.r.dy, independent and resourceful--a band of chums voluntarily taken from their homesteads to render them immune from invasion by tackling the Hun on his own ground.

All were splendidly mounted on horses inured to the miasmic climate, "led" animals carrying their necessary equipment. Each man knew how to take care of himself. He knew only the elementary principles of drill, but was none the less a very tough proposition for a Hun to tackle.

Skilled in woodcraft and travelling, able to cover great distances with the minimum of fatigue, and capable of going on short rations without loss of efficiency the Rhodesians were ideal men for the work on hand.

One and all had a score to wipe off; though few, if any, had fallen in with von Gobendorff they deeply resented the Hun's audacity in posing as a Rhodesian, while those who were of Scots descent and bore Scottish names were highly indignant at the idea of a German adopting the honourable and ancient cognomen of MacGregor.

Through the far-flung Pathan outposts they pa.s.sed and rode into the night. Scores of Askaris, who had thrown away their arms, signified their willingness to surrender. Some were questioned concerning the flight of von Gobendorff, their replies confirming the reports of the prisoners taken at M'ganga; and the surrendered men were ordered to return and give themselves up to the Indian troops, since the main objective of the patrol was the pursuit of the spy, von Gobendorff.

That night the patrol bivouacked a short distance from a native kraal, the inhabitants of which gave them a warm, demonstrative and noisy welcome, at the same time providing them with a goat, plenty of mealies and water. Enquiries elicited the information that a party of villagers had seen a white man hurrying through the bush, and fortunately had not given any indication of their presence. According to the natives' report the fugitive was making in a north-westerly direction.

"He'll have his work cut out to cross the Kiwa," declared the sergeant of the patrol. "The river's pretty full just now and swarms of hippos.

I doubt whether he'll tackle it at night."

"In that case we'll boot and saddle an hour before sunrise," declared Wilmshurst. "My man, Bela Mos.h.i.+, will be able to follow the spoor like a cat.... Oh, yes, light as many fires as you like. Von Gobendorff is too far away to see the glare."

The night pa.s.sed quietly. Although there were wild animals prowling round they kept a respectful distance. Men in pairs took turn in keeping watch, their comrades lying wrapped in blankets, with their feet towards the fire, each with his loaded rifle by his side.

After a good meal, consisting of roast goat's-flesh, millet bread and hot chocolate, the trek was resumed, the Haussa following the spoor with the sagacity and skill of a sleuth-hound until it was light enough to enable the Rhodesians to follow up the trail.

After a distance of five miles had been covered the patrol halted in perplexity, for, seemingly from nowhere another spoor joined that of the one they were following. There were distinct imprints of two men walking--one wearing veldt-schoen, the other the heavy marching boot supplied to the German colonial units.

The latter was of slightly recent origin, as witnessed by the fact that here and there the footprints of the boots had partly obliterated those of the veldt-schoen.

"It strikes me we've only just tumbled on the right spoor," declared a Rhodesian. "Of the two I should imagine von Gobendorff was wearing military boots. I suppose you didn't happen to notice what he wore while he was attached to the Waffs?"

"Boots and gaiters," replied Wilmshurst. "But, of course, that was some time ago."

"And boots are scarce in this show," rejoined the other tentatively.

"When a man gets used to wearing a certain pair he's not likely to discard them in a hurry. I'll bet that is von Gobendorff's trail."

"And the other?" asked Dudley.

"A n.i.g.g.e.r might be wearing veldt-schoen," suggested another Rhodesian.

"Perhaps he looted them, and in his natural vanity, decided to put them on instead of slinging them round his neck. In my experience I find that a native 'boy' will wear veldt-schoen, but he'll draw the line at boots."

"In any case," remarked Wilmshurst, "the two spoors lead the same way, so we'll carry on."

Half a mile further the tracks separated, the older ones continuing straight on, those of the boots breaking away to the left.

After a brief debate the pursuers decided to follow the latter spoor.

This they followed for another four miles until it vanished on an expanse of hard, sun-baked ground.

"We're close to the Kiwa," announced one of the patrol, who had pushed on ahead for fifty yards. "There's a kraal over yonder, and I can see the water between the trees."

Into the native village the pursuers rode, to hear a tale of woe from the headman. An armed German had pa.s.sed through not an hour previously. He had demanded food and native beer; he had made no attempt to pay for the articles, and out of sheer mischief had set fire to a hut. Commandeering a canoe he had compelled the natives to ferry him across the river, and the four blacks who manned the craft had just returned with the news that he had gone into the bush.

"What was the German like?" asked a Rhodesian, who spoke the language of the natives with the utmost fluency.

The headman began to give an elaborate and detailed description, but it was soon evident that the pursuers were on the wrong track.

"Dash it all!" exclaimed Wilmshurst impetuously. "We've lost the fellow--what's that, Bela Mos.h.i.+?"

"Go ober dem water one-time quick, sah; den you catch Bosh-bosh as him go for run away."

"That's a smart idea," declared Dudley, never backward in giving credit for other persons' ideas.

"Quite good," agreed the section commander of the patrol. "Over we go; the horses will have to swim."

Borrowing a couple of canoes the pursuers stepped into the c.u.mbersome craft, four men in each had their loaded rifles ready to fire at any hippos that might attack the horses; the others, grasping the reins of the well-trained animals, guided them across.

The pa.s.sage of the Kiwa--which was here about one hundred and twenty yards in breadth--was performed without mishap, in spite of the fact that the current ran at a speed of two knots, for the spot where the crossing was effected was two miles below the rapids that had all but claimed von Gobendorff as a victim.

Just as the second canoe was running aground one of the natives uttered a cry of surprise, and pointed to a water-logged dug-out drifting broadside on down stream. It was a prize well worth having, and without waiting to put Wilmshurst and the rest of the pa.s.sengers ash.o.r.e the blacks paddled out and secured the derelict.

"Golly, sah!" exclaimed the Haussa sergeant. "Him canoe have one-time man alive. Now him dead as mutton."

Lying on the bottom of the canoe with his head raised above the water was a native. As the rescuing craft ran alongside the man opened his eyes.

The call of humanity having a prior claim to the importance of the pursuit Wilmshurst and the Rhodesians rendered all the aid in their power to revive the badly-wounded man. Examination showed that he had been shot at close range by a small-bore high velocity bullet. The missile had sc.r.a.ped his right ear, and entering at the shoulder had emerged just above the third rib. It was a nasty wound, but with ordinary attention it ought not to prove fatal.

Finding that he was being well treated the injured man recovered sufficiently to explain what had occurred. There was no mistaking the description of his a.s.sailant--also another crime had been added to the list against Ulrich von Gobendorff, that of attempted murder.

"So the blighter is making for Twas.h.i.+," remarked Wilmshurst, consulting his field service map. "That's well up in the Karewenda Hills. We may head him off even yet."

Mounting, the patrol, their energies quickened by the evidence of this latest Hunnish atrocity, set off at a gallop across the comparatively open country betwixt the Kiwa and the base of the Karewenda Hills. Woe betide von Gobendorff should he be spotted by one of the lynx-eyed Rhodesians.