'Come, let's start at once. Where's Lafoa?'
He explained his plan to the interpreter, who imparted it to the young chief, and the whole party moved off silently into the forest, Grinson mounting Meek pickaback.
Trentham's inferences as to the actions of the enemy were better justified than he knew. All the Germans with the exception of Hahn had been thrown into a state of utter consternation by the discovery that Meek was not the only white man in their neighbourhood. Hahn, professing himself to be as much surprised as the rest, had discreetly held his tongue. Consequently the commander, ignorant of the number of the rescuers, had contented himself with posting parties of the crew on the paths which the fugitives must cross to regain their village, postponing organised pursuit until the morning.
It was slow going in the darkness. Several of the natives who had been longest enslaved were weak from overwork, ill-treatment, and confinement. The stronger among them, eager to press on, were restrained by fear of the dark and the necessity of helping the weaker. Hoole noticed that Trentham was limping.
'Hurt your leg?' he asked.
'Got a bullet, I think, but it's nothing.'
'Shucks! Let me have a look at it right now. You might bleed to death.'
He knelt down and groped for the wound.
'The bullet has ploughed up a bit of your calf,' he said in a minute or two. 'Lucky it's no worse. Wait half a second while I tie it up; then I guess you can go on till we strike some water.'
They went on, struggling over rough country amid thick bush and trees. Even the natives were at a loss in the darkness. They could not choose a definite direction, and it seemed obvious to the white men that some of them would soon collapse. Grinson was panting under his load, light though it was, but steadfastly refused to allow the others to take turns with him. At length, coming to a patch of open ground, Trentham called a halt.