[CHAPTER VI--MWESA'S MISSION]
Tom could not help laughing as he surveyed the ruins of Mwesa's little building, and the negro himself put his hands on his hips and roared with merriment.
"Silly fella tink all same proper house," he said, alluding to the crocodile. "Me show him."
It was clear that their first task, if they were to remain for any length of time in this spot, must be to construct a more substantial dwelling, and after a light breakfast they set forth to survey for a site. Tom found that his long tramp on the previous day had caused his injured ankle to swell, and he could only get along by hopping on his sound foot. Fortunately he had not far to go before lighting on a suitable situation in a spot above the shore of the lake, where a few isolated trees in the form of a rough circle enclosed a clear space some twenty yards across. Here, after bathing his ankle and tying his handkerchief tightly about it, he sat down to watch Mwesa set about building him a "proper house."
The boy cut down with his axe a number of straight saplings, trimmed them, cut them to the same length, and then planted them in a circle in the centre of the space. After a search along the banks of the stream he returned with a load of withies cut from tough creeping-plants. With these he bound the upright poles together: first in the middle, then two feet below, and finally the same distance above. He worked with such astonishing speed that early in the afternoon the framework of the new hut was complete, standing up like a cage or a circular crate. After a short rest he started on the roof. He gathered together a number of flexible saplings, which he laid down on the floor of the hut so that they radiated from the centre like the spokes of a wheel. Then he fastened the ends together, lifting the saplings one by one until the structure resembled the ribs of an inverted Chinese umbrella. When it was finished he drew the loose ends together, turned it upside down, and pushed it up through the open roof space, the ends, when released, resting on the tops of the poles. The skeleton of the hut was complete.
Tom envied the boy's dexterity. All his measurements had been made with the eye alone, and Tom reflected that the work would have occupied a white artisan, provided with a foot rule, probably twice or thrice as long. Mwesa promised that another day's work would finish the job.
Next day he filled up the interstices between the poles with damp mud, which he carried in his wallet from the edge of the lake. He left a space about three feet square at the entrance; and built up with mud, in the interior of the hut, a long bench some three feet high. The mud dried rapidly in the heat of the day, and when the bench had hardened, he mounted upon it, and wove long grasses in and out among the rods composing the roof, until this was fairly impervious. It would give slight protection against heavy rain, but the rainy season was not yet due, and Tom agreed that the hut would form a very serviceable shelter during the short time he expected to occupy it.
It occurred to him, however, to suggest a means of doubly securing themselves against intruders, human or other. The trees surrounding the open space could be turned into an effective zariba by planting poles between them, and interlacing the poles with strands of prickly thorn. Mwesa fell in with the notion at once, but this was a much longer task than the construction of the hut had been, and in fact it occupied him off and on for nearly a week.
Meanwhile the food he had brought from the plantation had long been consumed, and he spent part of every day in snaring birds or small animals for the subsistence of himself and his master. It appeared that vegetable food was not to be obtained in this part of the country, and Tom grew somewhat uneasy as to the effect of an uninterrupted diet of flesh. He was uneasy, too, about his injuries. The wound caused by the spike was healing well, but the swelling of his ankle was but little reduced, and it gave him great pain to hobble even a few yards. It was clear that without the ministrations of his faithful and indefatigable boy he would starve.
Often as he lay at night, on rushes strewn upon the bench, listening to the cries of night-birds, the bark of distant hyaenas, the coughs of the crocodiles in the lake, the grunts and snarls of beasts that came prowling around the zariba, but never attempted to penetrate it, scared by the fire kept constantly burning within the enclosure--as he lay listening to these eerie sounds he pondered plans for the future. His dearest wish was to make his way to the frontier as soon as he was fit to travel, and to join the British forces which, he supposed, were gathering to resist the German invasion. The news that Germany and Britain were at war had scarcely surprised him. Recollections of what he had heard and seen during his year in Germany seemed to give corroboration enough. He remembered in particular one young German baroness, who had been to school at Cheltenham, and was continually boasting of what the Germans would do when "the Day" came. He remembered, too, how his father scoffed at the warnings of those who foretold that Germany was only awaiting an opportunity for making her tiger-spring, and how he and his brother had been rebuked for heeding the "alarmists." And now the Day had come at last. He wondered what spark had exploded the European powder-barrel, what pretext Germany had alleged for the attack which, he believed, she had long been secretly cherishing and preparing for. In the only letter he had received from England since his arrival, Bob had said nothing of trouble brewing. Whatever the ostensible reason was, he had no doubt the war had sprung from Germany's lust for world-power, and with the easy confidence which too many Englishmen felt in those early days, he believed that the British Navy would square accounts with the Germans before many months had passed. He did not know that Germany had cast her gauntlet in the face of half the world, did not suspect that she had already set the bases of civilisation staggering.