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.