Night came on. Alternately he dozed, and awoke to a sharpened keenness of apprehension. Now and then he heard noises above--the harsh persistent note of the nightjar, the hollow melancholy scale of the hornbill, the horrid whine of hyenas prowling in quest of prey and calling to one another with increasing frequency as the night stole towards dawn. A sudden raucous cry, apparently near at hand, caused him to seize the spike for defence in case some unwary beast should stumble into the pit. Once he beheld a pair of eyes, glaring with greenish light upon him from the brink. He uttered a hoarse cry: the eyes disappeared: and he seemed to hear a creaking rustle among the trees above.
Slumber again sealed his senses, and when he awoke, the pale misty light of dawn threw green rays into his prison. His limbs were numb with cold. His dry throat gave forth only a whistling croak when he tried to shout. Scarcely able to move, he watched the mouth of the pit and the sunlight filtering through the foliage and dispersing the mist. Listless, unconscious of the flight of time, he was just aware of the lengthening day as a sunbeam climbed down the side of his prison. All at once he was shaken into attention by a sound overhead, and while he was feebly trying to call, a shadow fell across the opening. A man's form appeared, and with a gasp of unutterable thankfulness he saw Reinecke peering down upon him. He struggled giddily to his feet: surely the bitterness of death was past.
But what was Reinecke saying? What words were these, that struck upon his ear in spasms, as it were?
"You came to spy ... enjoy your visit ... mad English ... war with Germany ... learn what it means to provoke the German."
He tried to collect his bewildered senses. It was Reinecke. What was he talking about? "Expedition to conquer Rhodesia ... months before I return ... a safe resting-place ... gather remains ... nothing but bones ... white bones."
Had Reinecke gone? The voice had ceased; the sunlight fell unchecked: and Tom, in a last flash of illumination before the darkness of unconsciousness enshrouded him, realised that Reinecke had betrayed him and had left him here to die.
[CHAPTER V--A FRIEND IN NEED]
On the previous evening, when the day's work on the plantation was over and the workers had returned to their homes, a young negro left the large dwelling which he shared with a number of other unmarried men, and betook himself to the hut where Mirambo was supping with his family.
"Have you eaten already, Mwesa?" asked the old hunter.
"No. I am not hungry. He has not come back."