Part 18 (1/2)
”No go for look, sah,” he replied. ”Me know one time quick. Good man; him ride like de wind.”
”Then bring him here,” continued Wilmshurst.
”Him here, sah--me, Bela Mos.h.i.+.”
”I didn't know that you could ride,” remarked the subaltern dubiously, fancying that Bela Mos.h.i.+ in his desire to accompany him was inventing a fairy tale concerning his equestrian abilities.
”Me one-time groom in Freetown, sah,” declared Bela Mos.h.i.+. ”Me lib for ride any old hoss till him bust.”
”I'll try you,” announced Wilmshurst. ”If you are wasting my time look out for squalls.”
At the lines where the horses were picketed the Haussa picked out a powerful-looking brute--a ”salted” Cape horse which had shown considerable temper at previous times.
Vaulting upon the animal Bela Mos.h.i.+ rode it barebacked, urging it at a gallop and finis.h.i.+ng by taking a formidable obstacle in the shape of a cactus-bush.
”How can do, sah?” he asked.
”Good enough,” replied Wilmshurst. ”Cut off and pack your kit. We have only ten minutes.”
Well within the time specified the Haussa was ready for the trek, his kit consisting of a blanket, rifle and ammunition, a haversack and his cooking utensils. In addition he carried his master's water-filter and a light waterproof tent weighing together with the socketed poles a little over two pounds.
”Good luck, old man!” exclaimed Spofforth, as his brother subaltern rode off to join the patrol. ”Kindest regards to MacGregor when you meet him. Tell him how awfully delighted all of us will be to see him.”
Wilmshurst's new comrades were all men of the Rhodesian farmer type, well set-up, st.u.r.dy, independent and resourceful--a band of chums voluntarily taken from their homesteads to render them immune from invasion by tackling the Hun on his own ground.
All were splendidly mounted on horses inured to the miasmic climate, ”led” animals carrying their necessary equipment. Each man knew how to take care of himself. He knew only the elementary principles of drill, but was none the less a very tough proposition for a Hun to tackle.
Skilled in woodcraft and travelling, able to cover great distances with the minimum of fatigue, and capable of going on short rations without loss of efficiency the Rhodesians were ideal men for the work on hand.
One and all had a score to wipe off; though few, if any, had fallen in with von Gobendorff they deeply resented the Hun's audacity in posing as a Rhodesian, while those who were of Scots descent and bore Scottish names were highly indignant at the idea of a German adopting the honourable and ancient cognomen of MacGregor.
Through the far-flung Pathan outposts they pa.s.sed and rode into the night. Scores of Askaris, who had thrown away their arms, signified their willingness to surrender. Some were questioned concerning the flight of von Gobendorff, their replies confirming the reports of the prisoners taken at M'ganga; and the surrendered men were ordered to return and give themselves up to the Indian troops, since the main objective of the patrol was the pursuit of the spy, von Gobendorff.
That night the patrol bivouacked a short distance from a native kraal, the inhabitants of which gave them a warm, demonstrative and noisy welcome, at the same time providing them with a goat, plenty of mealies and water. Enquiries elicited the information that a party of villagers had seen a white man hurrying through the bush, and fortunately had not given any indication of their presence. According to the natives' report the fugitive was making in a north-westerly direction.
”He'll have his work cut out to cross the Kiwa,” declared the sergeant of the patrol. ”The river's pretty full just now and swarms of hippos.
I doubt whether he'll tackle it at night.”
”In that case we'll boot and saddle an hour before sunrise,” declared Wilmshurst. ”My man, Bela Mos.h.i.+, will be able to follow the spoor like a cat.... Oh, yes, light as many fires as you like. Von Gobendorff is too far away to see the glare.”
The night pa.s.sed quietly. Although there were wild animals prowling round they kept a respectful distance. Men in pairs took turn in keeping watch, their comrades lying wrapped in blankets, with their feet towards the fire, each with his loaded rifle by his side.
After a good meal, consisting of roast goat's-flesh, millet bread and hot chocolate, the trek was resumed, the Haussa following the spoor with the sagacity and skill of a sleuth-hound until it was light enough to enable the Rhodesians to follow up the trail.
After a distance of five miles had been covered the patrol halted in perplexity, for, seemingly from nowhere another spoor joined that of the one they were following. There were distinct imprints of two men walking--one wearing veldt-schoen, the other the heavy marching boot supplied to the German colonial units.
The latter was of slightly recent origin, as witnessed by the fact that here and there the footprints of the boots had partly obliterated those of the veldt-schoen.
”It strikes me we've only just tumbled on the right spoor,” declared a Rhodesian. ”Of the two I should imagine von Gobendorff was wearing military boots. I suppose you didn't happen to notice what he wore while he was attached to the Waffs?”
”Boots and gaiters,” replied Wilmshurst. ”But, of course, that was some time ago.”