The chief replied that he would obey his lord Kuboko in all things, and fight like an elephant at bay. Tom then impressed on the minor chiefs that they must give willing support to the head. Their loyalty to himself had already enabled them to strike a severe blow at the enemy, and from this they should learn the value of union against the invader. He reminded them how one spear was easily broken, while a bundle resisted all efforts; and with a final exhortation to act as became brave and loyal men he started with Mbutu and his troops. He looked at his watch; it was just midnight.
That march lived long in Tom's memory. Around him was the vast darkness, occasionally broken by the wan moonlight piercing the roof of foliage. The air was damp and chill, permeated by the sickly odour of decay. Tom walked at the head of his men with one of the best of his scouts, pressing on until he felt as though he were in a dream, his movements mechanical, requiring no effort, his feet seeming to find their way over obstacles without any volition of his, his mind busy all the time with other things. The pace was slow, for the path could rarely be seen, hemmed in by giant trees, underwood, and thorn. On and on the men tramped in silence, their bare feet making a curious swishing sound on the sodden mould. There were narrow streams to be forded, switchback hills to mount and descend; in some parts the path was slippery, and every step forward seemed to be followed by a longer slip back. Still he tramped on doggedly, his heart beating like a hammer against his ribs, the men panting aloud, uttering a sharp exclamation sometimes when they struck their bare feet against the knotted roots of a tree, or dodged a thorn too late to prevent their faces from being scratched and torn. On and on, with never a pause, till at nine in the morning the band reached the edge of the forest, and saw the wide scrub-dotted plain stretching in front of them.
For just five minutes Tom allowed the men to lie flat on the ground to rest; then up again. They were terribly fagged; the fighting and marching of the previous days, followed by the building of the stockade, had told on them all. But there was no time to spare for a protracted rest. Only half of the journey was yet accomplished, and the remainder of it must be done at a quicker pace. Walking was easier now that the forest was left behind, but the easiness of the path only incited Tom to quicken the pace, so that a still greater demand was made on the tired negroes. They plodded on doggedly, several falling out dead-beat, the rest following their leader with starting eyes and every muscle of their legs racked with cramp. At each of the block-houses, as the column passed, the Bahima in charge came out to meet Tom and received his instructions for signalling news. There was no halt at any of these places; Tom gave his orders on the march. On and on went the column till at mid-day it arrived at a clump of wood three miles from the village, and there Tom bade them lie down in concealment and rest, while he sent forward Mboda, Mbutu's brother, with a scout to find out what was going on. They were not to go into the village; indeed, they were to keep out of sight from its stockade, for the enemy might even now be in possession of it, and in that case must know nothing of the presence of a relieving force.
At four o'clock Mboda returned with the news that an hour before they had seen a large Arab force halt at a spot about a mile to the west of the village, and make preparations for camping. It had but just arrived, coming from the setting sun. Tired as he was, Tom saw that his best course now was to make a reconnaissance in person and discover for himself what was in the wind.
He had had nearly three hours' rest during the absence of the scouts, but no food except a few bananas, for he would not allow the men to light fires for cooking. Feeling stiff and sore and hungry, he started alone, and made a long circuit round the eastern and southern sides of the village, being careful not to approach too close to it, and ever on the alert to avoid any natives who might be in the neighbourhood. He walked as quickly as he could, so as to come within sight of the Arab encampment before dark. After a tramp of nearly six miles, the last two of which had been a gradual ascent, he found himself, on emerging from a clump of bush, within a mile of the camp, which had been placed very conveniently in a slight hollow. Even at this distance he could see that it was a regular encampment and not a mere halting-place, and he threw himself down behind a bush, and with his head propped on his arms surveyed the scene.
"There's a plot, that's pretty certain," his thoughts ran. "The question is, are these men outside the village concerned in the plot which sent eight hundred of the garrison on a wild-goose chase to the volcano? If so, their only aim must surely be the capture of the village. Then why don't they attack? It's a big camp; there must be a big crowd of Arabs there, and Msala has only about two hundred fighting-men to defend that enormous circumference. They must know that, if they're in the plot. And there's always the chance that the eight hundred will come back. Perhaps the Arabs are tired out with their day's march, and want time to recuperate. Or are they going to make a night attack? Last time they attacked at dawn, their usual custom. I wonder if they've taken a leaf out of my book, and think that as I routed them at night, they'll turn the tables and storm the village under cover of darkness? One thing is clear: they expect to have to fight, or they'd have marched straight in, and that they haven't is a proof that I was right in believing the katikiro to be loyal. Now, what's my next move? I should dearly like to see a little more closely into their camp; how can I manage it?"
He looked about him. The bush dotting the ground was quite insufficient to hide him continuously from the eyes of a sharp sentry. On the other hand, if he waited until dark he would probably fail to see much, and in any case that course would delay his return to his men, and perhaps make it too late to do anything to frustrate a night attack on the village. Wondering what was to be done, as he moved to the left his eye caught a narrow watercourse zig-zagging down the sloping ground in the direction of the camp. He remembered it well now, though for the moment it had slipped from his memory. The banks were steep, and the water shallow, so that he felt sure he could creep down to within a few hundred yards of the camp without being seen, provided no one came to the brook for water and that no sentries were posted outside. He decided to risk it, trusting to hide, if necessary, at one of the many windings made by the stream. Creeping along, with every care that no splash or rolling stone should betray him, he arrived safely within three hundred yards of the camp, and then, cautiously raising his head, he peered over the bank.
There were only two sentries on this side of the camp. The nearest, some two hundred yards away on the right, was leaning, as if half-asleep, on the stock of his musket; the other, half as far again to the left, had made himself comfortable in the fork of a fallen tree. It was evident that the Arab leader was either extraordinarily self-confident or convinced that he had no opposition to fear.
The whole camp was enclosed by a palisade, which Tom judged, from the portion he saw, to be about a thousand yards in circumference. The palisade consisted of saplings, and was not defended by a trench; but it was at least five feet high, and from his position in the watercourse Tom could see absolutely nothing inside the fence. There was nothing for it, then, but either to wait till darkness had fallen and then try to creep closer and look over or through the palisade, or to give up the attempt to obtain information and return to his men. He was very reluctant to adopt the second alternative, and decided at any rate to remain where he was until it was dark.
He had not long to wait. It was past four before he left his own camp, and it was now nearly six. After remaining for twenty minutes in his place of concealment, until he began to feel numbed by the cold, he ventured to lift his head above the bank. There was nothing between him and the palisade; a red glow from the camp-fires within was lighting, the sky, and over the fence came the noise of hundreds of gabbling tongues. He crept over the bank, waited an instant, and then ran noiselessly across to the palisade, where a few bushes would afford him some cover if anyone happened to look over. Resting a moment, he heard the guttural sounds of talking and laughing on the other side; the negroes were evidently preoccupied with their own concerns.