Clifford had brought down his first man, but the second white he missed, as his startled horse plunged and threw the rider. For a time the German replied vigorously to their fire, but luckily he couldn’t see through the grass, and no bullet got home. Suddenly he rose and scrambled on to one of the horses and galloped off. Twice Clifford fired and missed, but at the third shot the German crumpled up and slid limply from his mount. Clifford now ran forward, and caught the remaining horse; Saidi following at his heels. Shots whistled and cracked around them, but all were wide of the mark; for the Askari is a poor marksman. Into the blacks rode Clifford, reckless and wild, driving them to panic and confusion. Two went down with his first shots, the rest, five in number, leapt from the grass and fled in frantic disorder. One more fell, sprawling, to Clifford’s marksmanship, and another was winged. But by that time the remainder had spread and got farther afield, and Clifford gave up the chase, afraid to get too far away from Saidi, who might be in difficulties.
Returning, Clifford found Saidi broadly smiling, as was his wont when greatly pleased. He had accounted for three Askaris. Clifford praised the boy—though he seldom gave praise to a native—and told him, now, to make “plenty big feed” for himself, and then to sleep—the boy had had no rest since the day before.
While Saidi busied himself lighting a fire, Clifford counted the cost.
One German was dead, one wounded. Four Askaris were dead, and three wounded. After he had gone back and brought the prisoner to camp, Clifford attended to the wounded. When that gruesome work was finished, he sought a vantage-point on a rise, and, from there, sent three piercing whistles out over the plain.
He was soon rewarded by the sight of natives, showing in the grass, about a mile to the east. They were the three Masai left behind overnight; and he signalled to them to come on.
In a short time the Masai came up.
Fear was first in their approach, then astonishment, when they sighted the destruction of the enemy, and Clifford and Saidi in complete possession of the cattle. Their usually passive faces broke into broad smiles, they gesticulated excitedly in their exclamations over the extraordinary scene; and, finally, they came, one by one, before Clifford, to voice their timid gratitude, and to salaam profoundly, as vassals to their lord. He was, in their eyes, indeed a mighty and wonderful white chief.
A “chit” was written to G.H.Q. asking for a mounted patrol to be sent out to conduct the cattle back to a safe area, and a Masai runner was dispatched with it to camp—with instructions, also, to send word to his tribe to furnish some men to dig graves.
The remaining Masai counted the cattle. They numbered close on seven hundred head—a substantial meat ration for the Europeans over the border, if the raid had succeeded. Clifford directed the Masai to drive the cattle slowly back to the Guaso Nyero River, and to wait for him at the bend beyond the northern slopes of Mount Shombole. Before leaving, they released the hidden mules, and drove them also to water.