For himself, he had resolved on a venturesome, if not a risky, course. There were still a few hours of daylight left--long enough to lead a force out of the nullah, along the foothills above, to the ravine where the enemy were encamped. The probabilities were that, met by rifle-fire as they descended the cleft, they would hesitate to press an attack against unknown numbers, and make their way back to headquarters to report the disappearance of their captain and the necessity of larger forces. Tom thought that with luck he might reach the mouth of the ravine in time to ambush them, cut them off, and capture them all. His men being only partly trained, he would need perhaps twice as many as the enemy numbered, which meant almost all the Wahehe who were able to shoot. But his new-born confidence in his askaris led him to adopt the bold course of leaving them to defend the southern end of the nullah. It was scarcely likely that another hostile force was approaching in that direction: Reinecke had probably been confident of an easy victory through the back door. Yet nothing should be left to chance; and the defence of the barricade might be safely entrusted for a few hours to the askaris and the remnant of the Wahehe, with Mirambo and his party at hand as reinforcements in case of need.
Tom lost no time in making these arrangements, and an hour after his return he led some eighty men out through the barricade, swung round to the right, and climbed the foothills over which the course of the ravine lay.
"They'll have to carry me back," thought Tom, before he had walked a mile. "Didn't know I was so fagged."
Tom, indeed, had been drawing rather heavily on his physical reserves, and to-day for the first time weariness warned him against overdoing it. Now, more than ever, was it necessary that he should not break down, for he felt certain that the difficulties of his people were only beginning.
Having already been on his feet for eight or nine hours, he found that march of a few miles, at the close of the day, more exhausting than he would have imagined. The country was broken and hilly, now bare rock, now soft spongy ground cumbered with tangled vegetation and overshadowed by forest trees. But the chance of trapping the force that had been sent to trap him sustained his spirits; and the mind can, for a time, compel the body to feats beyond its normal strength. His men, fresh, vigorous, inspirited by the return of their leader and the recapture of Reinecke, marched on with eagerness to reach their goal: their enthusiasm was itself a stimulant to him.
There was no path along those rugged, wooded foot-hills. The sun was blanketed by the rain-laden sky. It was possible only to guess their course; and Tom, seeing by his watch that little more than half-an-hour of daylight was left, began to fear that darkness would surprise him before he should have struck upon the ravine. But at this very moment of misgiving he was almost at the edge. A few yards farther brought him to a sharp declivity. He ordered his men to halt, advanced with Mwesa through the low-growing trees, and looking cautiously to right and left, beheld the long hollow that was his journey's end.
It appeared to him that he had hit the ravine at a spot half-way up its length. None of the enemy was in sight. The askaris, if they remained where he had last seen them, were probably some distance to the right; the sentries at the mouth of the ravine must be three or four hundred yards to the left. These latter must be secured if his plan was to have full success; so, returning to his men, he chose four to accompany him and Mwesa, and hastened along through the scrub near the brink of the ravine.
Scouting with circumspection, he arrived at the place where the steep sides fell to the level of the surrounding country. The sentries were not where they had been. He sent Mwesa to worm his way across under cover of the bushes and to see if he could track the men to another post. The boy returned sooner than he had expected.
"Fink all gone, sah," said he.
"The sentries, you mean?"