Time would not allow of the construction of a regular stockade, with poles properly cut and trimmed, and deeply planted in the ground. It seemed to Tom that the most effective barrier that could be quickly raised would consist of small trees with their foliage, set as closely together as might be, with their crowns pointing outwards, in the form of a rough chevaux de frise. The men were set to work on those lines. Some felled or uprooted young trees from the slopes of the nullah, others hauled them to the bottom, and a third gang arranged them side by side across the entrance. Meanwhile a party of boys was employed in cutting brushwood and piling it here and there among the trees where the foliage was thin. A single gap was left on the east side as a gateway for the scouts.
The work had only just been roughly accomplished when a scattered volley from Mirambo's party apprised Tom that the enemy had at last appeared. Immediately afterwards he saw his men running back from the line of bushes, and they had no sooner gained the entrance to the nullah than a regular volley flashed from the cover they had just left.
Tom posted his men along the inner side of the barricade, ordered them to kneel, pass the muzzles of their rifles through the brushwood, and fire at the legs of the enemy askaris when he gave the word. Haroun the Arab begged to be entrusted with a rifle: but Tom, remembering another of Mr. Barkworth's maxims, "Prove all men," refused the request until he should have tested his new recruit. A turncoat has to win confidence.
The enemy, however, did not repeat their volley. Apparently they were daunted by the aspect of the barricade which had sprung up so unexpectedly, and which, in the distance, looked formidable enough. Their hesitation to storm it was reasonable, especially if they were in no great strength; and Tom, though he could see nothing of them through the screen of bushes, had come to the conclusion that the vast number his scouts had reported was a figment of their lively imagination. No German, in command of any considerable body of disciplined men, would have been so sluggish in following up a horde of untrained negroes.
Near the barricade the sides of the nullah sloped up steeply, but were easily scalable. It occurred to Tom that the enemy might wait until nightfall and then attempt to turn his position. That, however, would involve obvious difficulties and dangers; the German could hardly afford to divide his force, if it were indeed a small one. At any rate such an operation could be defeated by unremitting vigilance, and meanwhile there was all the rest of the day, supposing his conjecture were well founded, in which to push on with his defensive works. Posting, then, some of the riflemen under cover of the vegetation on either slope, Tom set the other men to fill up the gaps in the barricade. They worked with the eagerness of those who have faith in their leader, and before the sun set Tom had the satisfaction of seeing his wall complete--a rough, slight defence, indeed--but likely to be effective against nothing worse than rifle fire.
By the time darkness fell, he had begun to realise that the position of a commander-in-chief is not one to be coveted. In his own small sphere he had had, as he frankly put it to himself, quite enough of it. The physical and nervous strain of the last few days; the sense of responsibility for the welfare of the people who had so readily put their trust in him; above all, perhaps, the want of sleep; had almost, in his own words again, knocked him out. Yet he dared not even sleep while the enemy was at hand. Without him the Wahehe would be simply an unorganised mob. There was nothing for it but to reconcile himself to another wakeful night, to ensure that his sentries were alert, and to leave the organisation of the people, in their retreat up the nullah, to a hoped-for leisure.
The night passed undisturbed, except for false alarms. Unaccustomed to night watching, the negroes more than once declared that they heard footsteps, and even saw faces. One of them fired off his rifle in nervous excitement at the dangers his imagination had conjured up. Their fears proved to be baseless; and in the morning, when Tom warily climbed the slope to a point from which he could overlook the ground beyond the bushes, there was no sign of the enemy. A little suspicious, he sent Mushota out to creep round the position, and, if the enemy had indeed decamped, to follow them up and see what they were about. In an hour the lad returned, elation beaming from his broad smiling face. He reported that the askaris were marching swiftly back towards the plantation; in fact, they were running away! Tom did not contradict him: the belief that the enemy had fled would encourage the people; he himself thought it likely enough that they had been recalled for more important work than rounding up a gang of mutinous recruits. But Reinecke had escaped, and Reinecke, he felt sure, would never rest until he had made a bid for vengeance on the man who had committed the crime that a rascal never forgives--found him out.
"Pity he's gone, after all," thought Tom.
Now that no immediate danger was to be feared, he allowed himself the indulgence of a couple of hours' sleep, leaving Mirambo in charge. Refreshed by this all too brief rest, he went up the nullah to see how the greater part of his people were getting on. Not at all to his surprise, he found that nothing whatever had been done by way of organisation. The negro at best has little initiative, and these emancipated slaves, in unfamiliar surroundings, had taken no thought except to feed themselves, which they had done uncommonly well. Tom was not prepared to follow his mother's prescription with a new housemaid: give free run until they made themselves ill. Economy might be vitally necessary: he saw that his first task must be that of food controller. He called up Reinecke's head servant, a fat negro from one of the coast tribes.
"I want you to listen to me, Moses," he said. "You see what has happened. I have brought the people away for two reasons: first, to free them, then to prevent the men from fighting for the Germans. You are no longer Herr Reinecke's servant, but my prisoner--unless you like to take service with me. I tell you frankly I can't pay you, at present; but the Germans are going to be beaten, you understand; don't make any mistake about that; and when I get to Abercorn I will pay you your full wages, and something extra if you serve me well. Think it over."