Laxdale and Danvers exchanged enquiring glances.
"Hanged if I know," said the former. "The last I saw of him was when he was making for the baobab. We were a set of blighters scooting off and leaving old Spofforth to act like a modern Horatius."
All three subalterns knew that the Rhodesian was the only man on the spot who had a rifle ready, yet generously they forbore to give expression to their thoughts.
"See if you can find Mr. MacGregor," ordered Wilmshurst, addressing Bela Moshi.
"Me go, sah," replied the sergeant, and promptly he set off towards the baobab, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground.
Arriving at the tree Bela Moshi rested his rifle against the trunk and with the agility of a cat swarmed up to one of the lowermost branches. Both Laxdale and Danvers could see that it was a different part of the tree from that in which they had taken refuge.
Crouching on the enormous limb Bela Moshi remained motionless for a few moments—a patch of huddled black and khaki hardly distinguishable from the sun-baked bark. Then he dropped lightly to the ground and by a movement of his arms signalled to some of the Haussas to approach.
"By Jove, Bela Moshi's found him!" exclaimed Danvers, and the three subalterns hurried to the spot.
It was MacGregor they saw, lying face downwards on a bed of dried grass. The Rhodesian was unconscious, but on examination no trace of an injury could be found. In his panic he had succeeded in climbing the tree as far as the lowermost branch and had been seized with a sudden faintness.
While the three officers were bending over him MacGregor opened his eyes. Gradually their haunted expression gave place to a look of bewilderment, until he realised that he was surrounded by friends.