Before Challis was half-way to the zariba, a second party of horsemen broke from cover in the direction of the village, and rode straight at him. Flinging up his shot-gun, he emptied the barrels almost at random; then drew his revolver. But at that moment a shot from the pistol of one of the galloping horsemen struck him above the wrist, and the revolver fell to the ground. In another second he was spun round by the impact of a horse's shoulder, reeled, and fell. The horsemen galloped over him on their way to the zariba, and before he lost consciousness it seemed to him that he had been kicked and trampled by a hundred hoofs.
CHAPTER V
UNDER THE LASH
Challis opened dazed eyes upon a scene that bewildered him, and for a few moments he could not account for the pains that gripped all his limbs. Remembrance stole back into his reviving consciousness, and gradually he became aware of the meaning of what he saw.
The zariba had been demolished. At one side of what had been his camp a number of horses were tethered. In the centre his Hausa boys were busily packing the baggage, much more rapidly than Challis had ever seen them doing it before. The reason of their haste was easily discovered. Over them stood a circle of negroes, who urged them with fierce cries and drawn swords. The camp had fallen into the hands of an enemy.
And it was not long before Challis guessed who this enemy was. Only one tribe in this part of Africa, so far as he knew, rode horses. These men must be Tubus from across the Yo—the ruthless brigands who were the terror of the country. It could hardly be doubted that these were the men who had raided the village, and left only too clear proofs of their merciless ferocity.
Apparently there had been no fight at the zariba. The Hausas, armed though they were, had succumbed without a struggle. The truth was that, in disobedience to Challis's order, some of the men had left the camp, and been pounced on suddenly by the enemy. As they fled back to the zariba, their comrades dared not fire for fear of hitting them, and the swift onset of the horsemen had made resistance hopeless.
Aching all over, Challis struggled to his feet. Immediately a hand was laid upon him from behind. He noticed that his wrist was bleeding, and taking out his handkerchief, he began to wind it round the wound as his captor pushed him towards the centre of the camp. And then from behind the horses there came forth a huge negro, taller than he by six or seven inches, with massive shoulders and muscular arms.
The giant's face broke into a grin as he approached the Englishman. He uttered some words which Challis did not understand, but which seemed to have in them the ring of triumph.
"I have caught you, white face!" was what he said.