"All fella askaris, sah. All gone, no fear."
"How do you know?"
Mwesa looked down at Tom's feet.
"Dey hab got big boots like sah. Sah come see."
Tom went down with him into the midst of the long grass and the bushes that covered the centre of the ravine. Broken twigs and branches and long swathes of trampled grass marked the recent passage of men, and Mwesa pointed out on the damp soil the impressions of heavy boots, and showed him that in the freshest the heels were up, not down, the ravine. A few minutes' investigation in both directions placed it beyond doubt that, not long before, a body of men had marched westward into the forest.
"Too late!" muttered Tom. "But we must make sure. Mwesa, scout along to the cleft. Be quick, for it will be dark soon."
He returned to his party, dragging his weary limbs. In twenty minutes Mwesa came back, hot and breathless.
"All gone, sah. Haroun him stay: big birds dey find him."
Tom shuddered. The vultures were already at work. "Come, let us get back," he said. "Get some of the men to make a machila. I can't walk another step, and we can't venture the climb down in the dark."
With two rifles and some pliant tendrils a litter was soon constructed, and reclining on this Tom headed the march home. He was tired and disappointed; the men were crestfallen: some asked why the m'sungu did not pursue the askaris. But Tom was in no condition to follow up the enemy, even if his reason had favoured the idea. He could only guess at what had happened: that the lieutenant, alarmed by the distant shouts, had gone forward, discovered the dead Arab, inferred that Reinecke also had come to grief, and concluding that the game was up, had withdrawn his men hurriedly and in something of a panic. To pursue in darkness would be folly. Tom consoled himself for his disappointment with the reflection that, after all, more prisoners would have been a nuisance--so many more mouths to feed, and a burden to the guards.