"Yes. We'll start at sunrise. You've got khaki and sun helmets?"
"Of course. We'll be ready, sir, Poll and I."
At six o'clock next morning a party of ten rode out of Nairobi. It consisted of the four men we know, with five friends of Mr. Gillespie and a Somali guide. Six were mounted on horses, the rest on mules. Two members of Mr. Gillespie's household watched them leave. One was his wife, who bid them Godspeed at the door; the other was Hilda Ferrier, who had passed a sleepless night, and looked forth from the window of her room with tired and anxious eyes.
[CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH--An Attack in Force]
It was within an hour of sunset when John and Ferrier reached the fort. They looked first of all to see whether it was possible to raise the stones which had been cast into the pool, for the purpose of repairing the wall, and found, as John had suspected, that they were too deep below the surface.
"We must make the best of it," said John. "It's lucky we hadn't got more of the wall down. They won't bother us to-night, that's one comfort. They'll think twice before crossing the causeway in the dark."
It proved as he had said. A careful watch was kept all through the night, but nothing happened to disturb them. As soon as there was a glimmer of light John went to the gate with Ferrier to survey the surroundings. Except for the clump of woodland half-a-mile away on the east there was nothing that afforded good cover, and it struck Ferrier that it would be a good plan to seize the wood with the fighting men before the enemy could occupy it. But when he passed over the causeway with John and a dozen of the natives they discovered to their vexation that they were too late. They had advanced but a short distance when they were met by a volley from among the trees, and though none of the party was hit, John considered it prudent to retire into the fort and await developments there.
During the rest of the day the enemy made no serious attack. The smoke from their camp-fires was seen rising above the trees, and now and then a shot was fired if any of the garrison showed themselves at the gate or in the gap of the wall; but the enemy were indifferent marksmen, and the day passed without casualties.
"Things don't look very rosy, do they?" said Ferrier, as he lay on the ground discussing the situation with John. They had found when they came to look into matters that some of the porters during their hurried flight had abandoned their loads. Two boxes of ammunition were missing, and several baskets of provisions. Said Mohammed was in great distress at the loss of the package containing cocoa, condensed milk, and marmalade. This, however, was not so serious as the loss of grain. The total food supply, including the provisions found in the fort, would not last more than three or four days; and John, though he did not say so, thought that Ferrier would have done better to retreat towards the farm than to advance chivalrously to rejoin him. He considered that it would have been possible for himself and his fighting men, unencumbered with baggage of any great weight, to have made a rapid march after demolishing the fort, and joined hands with Ferrier probably twenty miles nearer home. But fate had ordained otherwise; the situation must be faced as it existed.
"Things certainly do not look rosy," John replied to Ferrier's remark, "but they might be worse--which is a pretty rotten platitude when you come to think of it. It looks as if they mean to keep us boxed up here. We shall have to get out when our food's exhausted, or starve, and I'm inclined to think we had better make a dash for it at once, before the men get weak. These natives who live mostly on grain food soon crock up: they haven't anything like our reserve strength, whatever the vegetarians may say."