In the grip of the Mullah: A tale of adventure in Somaliland

by F. S. Brereton

Bidding Ali call gently to five more of the men, Jim waited to see them take up their appointed posts, and left them there with strict orders that they were not to make a sound, and were not to attempt to open fire until the word was given. Then he and his companion descended, and made their way up the face of the opposite cliff. It was even a harder climb than the other had been, but after winning their way up for a distance of a few yards only, they had the good fortune to strike upon a narrow ledge which seemed to wind up the face of the rock. At the best of times it offered but a precarious footing, but now, when it was attempted in darkness, it was a hazardous undertaking. But Jim made light of the danger. Indeed, he gave no thought to it, for all his attention was occupied in the search for a favourable and commanding site. Thanks to the soft sandals which he wore, he was able to obtain a firmer footing than would have been possible had he been shod with boots, and taking advantage of the feeling of security which this gave him, he clambered steadily upwards, Ali following closely behind him, and giving notice of his presence by his hard breathing. Suddenly the tiny ledge broadened out, and on halting for a few seconds to rest, Jim became aware of the fact that the cliff had receded, leaving a small shelf, capable of accommodating thirty or more men.

"We are in luck!" he cried joyfully. "This part of the cliff overhangs the gorge below, and is some yards from the entrance. I can feel boulders everywhere, so that our fellows will not have to search far for missiles. Then, too, there is no danger of their dropping them on their comrades, for they will be well out of range. Yes, it will suit very well; let us call up the men."

Once more the process of giving directions to the natives was gone through, this time orders being issued that they were to rely upon rocks instead of upon rifles. Then, satisfied that everything was in readiness, Jim sat down upon a boulder at the entrance of the gorge, and waited there with what patience he could command. It was exciting work sitting there in the darkness surrounded by precipitous walls, and without a sound to break the silence save the occasional jar of a rifle as it was struck against a piece of stone. All sorts of thoughts and fancies passed through his mind during the hours of waiting. He wondered whether his school-friends were thinking of him, what time it was in old England at that moment, and whether the boys were even then engaged in battling with the same tasks which he had so lately forsaken. Yes, it was strange to reflect that barely a month ago he was a mere boy, acting a boy's part, and with scarcely a thought for the future. And now he was the recognized leader of a real expedition, about to invade the country of the Mullah, as fierce a fanatic as had ever sprung to power to be a scourge to his neighbours. It was strange indeed. It was almost beyond belief that it was he, Jim Hubbard, sitting there upon that rock, listening to the beating of his own heart, and straining his ears for the sounds which seemed as though they would never come. Supposing this tribe did not attack after all. Supposing Ali had made a huge blunder, and was the victim of too vivid imagination. Supposing——Hark! What was that? A stone falling from the cliff away above his head, or a footfall upon the road which led through the gorge?

At this sound, faint though it was, each man who lay there in ambush became alert, while Jim sprang to his feet and peered into the blackness.

"The enemy!" whispered a voice in his ear. "Did I not tell you rightly, master? After all, the sheiks have decided to attack during the hours of darkness."

It was Ali Kumar who had slipped up to Jim's side without making so much as a sound. Then, together, they stood listening, bending their heads towards the gorge, as though that would help them.

Ah! There it was again. Was it a man walking, or was it the sound of a voice?

For some minutes there was silence, and then the mystery was cleared up to everyone's satisfaction, for down the rocky sides of the ravine came the noise of men talking. Almost at the same moment a thin streak of the moon climbed up above the highest edge of the cliff, and shot rays of brilliant whiteness down upon the road.

One, two—why, the gorge was packed with figures clad in white and bearing every sort of arm. They might have been bound upon a friendly visit so far as precautions went, for they talked without restraint, but in low tones; while their leader, happening to strike his foot against a boulder of unusual size, gave vent to a loud cry of pain, and stood there, with one hand upon the mass of rock, and the other chafing his injured limb.

But however friendly their appearance, the object of their midnight wandering was quickly apparent, for, as he rubbed his damaged foot, the sheik called to his followers to gather about him, and proceeded to harangue them, Ali Kumar interpreting his words to Jim as he did so.