"Him fink him medicine-man, sah; go pick grass for Mabruki; make Mabruki him medicine; oh yes! I know dat."
"Was the medicine-man near when Mkinga arrived in the village?" asked Tom of the messenger.
"Oh yes! The katikiro talked to the medicine-man, and showed him another bit of white rag like the bit Mkinga brought, and after they talked Mkinga was sent back."
"You say the man disappeared, Mbutu. Has he been seen since?"
"No, sah."
"Ah! That will do, my man; go and get food. Mabruki is at some mischief, Mbutu," he added. "There's a plot to betray the village. Get together a hundred and fifty of the best pikemen and a hundred and fifty musketeers, also two hundred spearmen; all strong active men, men who have had a good meal and can be trusted. Tell them that in the time it takes to cook a pot they will start for the village with me. You understand?"
"Yes, sah;" and Mbutu went away to fulfil his errand.
Tom's mind had been made up instantly. The village was evidently to be betrayed from within, and in all probability there was an enemy now outside the gates. The only chance of saving it was to return himself with all speed, and take the enemy unawares. He could not stop to consider who he could be, or how he could have so strangely outflanked him; the only question was whether in any case it was possible to reach the village in time. It was thirty miles away, and fifteen of these were in the forest, where marching must necessarily be slow. But the attempt must be made; he must reach the village at all costs as early next day as possible, and could only hope that the enemy would not have actually entered the place, or that the katikiro, discovering the treachery, would be able, in spite of his diminished force, to hold his own until reinforcements arrived.
Within an hour Mbutu had the force of five hundred picked men in readiness to set out. Their success against the Arabs had so inspirited them that they were exulting in the prospect of another victory under the leadership of the great Kuboko. Mbutu, using his own judgment, had told them nothing of the long night's march before them, so that they might start in the same spirit of confidence and enthusiasm. It was dark, but the moon was rising, and by its light filtering through the tree-tops Tom quickly scanned the force, and was pleased to see how eager and how fit they were. Then he sent for the principal chief among the men who were to be left behind.
"My brother," he said, "I am going to leave you for a time. There is nothing to fear; a small force of Arabs is showing itself insolently outside the gates of Mwonga, and I go to scatter it to the winds. Now I leave you here in command. I trust you. You are to hold this stockade. If the enemy appear, you know what to do. Let them get to the very edge of the river, yes, even into the river itself, and then fire at them, launch your spears at them, and prevent them from reaching this bank. Keep well behind the stockade and they will not see you, so that you will be able to do much damage among them, while they are powerless to hurt you. The post is a strong one; you must hold it at all costs. You must have confidence in me, as I have in you. You have seen what we have been able to do already; though I am not here, fight as though you saw my face and heard my voice, and all will be well. If you find that the enemy is too strong to be withstood, defend the stockade as long as possible, and then retire, but slowly, and fighting all the way."