"Found an old pal?" enquired the patrol-commander, as the Rhodesians crowded round the object of their recent operations.
"My brother," replied Dudley.
"Good business," was the hearty rejoinder. "But we must be moving. We've alarmed every enemy post within five miles of us."
The patrol hurried back to the spot where they had left their horses, Bela Moshi settling the question of how the physically weakened Rupert Wilmshurst was to be moved by lifting him in his strong arms.
"Nothing ob him, sah," confided the Haussa. "Him weight of one-time porter load."
It was an exaggeration of speech on the Haussa's part, for the nominal burden of a Coast porter is roughly sixty pounds, but Rupert's weight had decreased from a normal "twelve seven" to a little over seven stones.
With the utmost dispatch the patrol remounted. Bela Moshi gave up his steed to "Massa Wimst's brudder" and rode one of the led horses. In single file the men retraced their course, maintaining a steady trot.
As they entered the kraal where the headman had given them such important information they found the natives in a state of agitated turmoil. The Huns had by some means discovered that these "black subjects of his Imperial Majesty the German Emperor" had entertained a hostile patrol, for within twenty minutes of the departure of Wilmshurst and his companions a party of Askaris, commanded by a German officer, had visited the village. By way of punishment half a dozen huts had been burnt and an indemnity of fifty goats and a hundred litres of corn demanded, the headman and five other principal inhabitants being seized as hostages.
So great was the faith of the blacks in the "white soldiers of King George" that they rose en masse, liberated the hostages and drove the Askaris from their village. But the trouble was far from over, for native scouts reported a concentration of German troops on the south-eastern side of the village, while other Askari battalions were debouching from the north-east, having been hurriedly sent from one of the fortified posts on the Karewenda Hills.
"And so our line of retreat is cut," remarked Dudley. "Very well; we'll have to fight to a finish."