By dusk that evening the ditch was half finished. Royce, after eating his scanty supper, was sitting alone, tired out, wondering what had happened to Challis, whether he would succeed in getting help, how long it would be before he came back.
All at once he heard a shout of alarm, followed by a cry of pain. Springing up, he rushed in the direction of the sounds. The whole garrison was in a ferment, and two of the men had reached the scene before him.
"What is it?" he cried, thinking that perhaps some of the men had been quarrelling.
But on his arrival he found one of the Hausas groaning with pain, supported by his two comrades. They pointed to a gash in the man's thigh.
"Bring him along," said Royce to Kulana, deferring questions until he had rendered first-aid.
They carried the man to Royce's room. Royce took some lint from his medical stores, soaked it in water, and tied it tightly over the wound. He saw at once that the injury was not serious, and the cut, being clean, would heal in a few days.
"Now, how did it happen?" he asked.
The negro told Kulana that he had suddenly seen beside him a stranger, a man of immense size, very fierce-looking, with two long scars on each cheek. He had given a shout of alarm and rushed at the man, who was moving stealthily towards the well-yard. At the shout the stranger turned, dug his knife savagely into the Hausa's side, and rushed away.
Royce wished that he had questioned the man before. It would be hopeless to search for the intruder now. From the description, he had no doubt that it was Goruba, who had entered the fort for the second time in some mysterious way.
Royce was staggered. How had the man contrived again to get in unperceived? What sentries could cope with him? What could be his object in coming alone into the fort? Why was he running such risks in venturing unsupported among a garrison whom he knew to be well-armed and watchful?