Part 4 (2/2)

Mr. Halliday asked whether the man had seen anything of his sheep, and the Wanderobbo at once offered to help in the search in return for a few beads. The party set off again, and, emerging from the wood at its southern extremity, the little man soon discovered the trail, and the wanderers were seen placidly grazing half-a-mile away. The Wanderobbo seemed much more delighted with the few beads given him than the value of the gift appeared to justify, and at parting shook hands warmly with the Englishmen, promising, when Wasama had told him of their settlement, to bring them some honey shortly. Wasama collected the sheep and began to herd them back towards the farm, Mr. Halliday and the others going a little farther in pursuance of his intention of shooting something for the larder. But an hour's search revealing no trace of game, he started to return. He had just overtaken Wasama, about a mile from camp, when he saw Said Mohammed hastening towards him at a run.

”I hope there's nothing wrong,” he said, but as the Bengali drew nearer it was plain from his perturbed countenance that he bore bad news.

”Master and esteemed sir,” he said, panting as he came up, ”I regret to inform you that a calamity has transpired.”

”What is it?” asked Mr. Halliday, as the cook, who was of substantial physique, paused to recover breath.

”Larceny, sir. Juma, that badmash, awful scoundrel, sir, has lifted, or shall I say pinched, four donkeys, a dozen rifles, and a regular heap of trade goods, and has decamped, bunked, sir, with the Swahilis, who knows where?”

”What was Coja about?” demanded Mr. Halliday, at the same time quickening his pace.

”That, sir, deponent knoweth not. In fact, I have not seen Coja for some time, and suspect that he winked the other eye.”

”How long ago was this?”

”I do not know the exact moment, since I was engaged in was.h.i.+ng crockery after our matutinal repast, and did not discover the crime until I had made a hole in it; but on a modest computation I should say, not less than five hours ago.”

”Soon after we left, John. Which way did the men go?”

”Of that also I am in blissful ignorance, sir.”

”We'll soon track them, anyway. John, we must go after them.”

They hurried on towards the camp, taking Wasama with them, and leaving the sheep in charge of the Wakamba. When they reached the settlement, it was apparently deserted, except by the Indian carpenters and Juma's negro wife, who, as soon as she saw them, began excitedly to harangue some person out of sight, and then ran behind the bungalow, the walls of which were already up, and dragged forth Coja, whom she brought, a sheepish and crestfallen object, before his master.

Mr. Halliday did not delay either to reprimand or to receive explanations, but ordered Coja and the four Wakamba who had followed him from his hiding-place to sling on their cooking-pots and a little food and prepare to accompany him in chase of the fugitives.

”We don't know how long it will take us,” he said to John. ”Said Mohammed, you must come with us; we may be a day or two and shall want you to cook. Juma's wife seems a capable body; we'll leave her in charge. Coja, look for their tracks, and go on; we'll follow you.”

Within a quarter of an hour of reaching camp the party set off, numbering eight in all. The track was very clear. For three miles it followed the route by which the safari had come several days before; then, to Mr. Halliday's surprise, it made a sudden turn westward.

”I made sure they would strike for the coast,” he said. ”They won't dare show themselves in any of our settled parts, and I don't understand their going off into the interior. They've had a good start of us, but we travel lighter and ought to catch them if we don't lose the trail.”

The party hurried on, not pausing, though the day was now at its hottest. The trail led through open country, and across several streams, some of them of fair size. Here there were signs that the donkeys had given trouble, the soft earth at the brink being so trampled and cut up as to suggest that the animals had had to be pushed and hauled into the water. The trail was for the most part easily followed, for the fugitives had clearly been in too great a hurry to attempt to cover it. Once or twice, when it crossed stony ground, Coja was temporarily at fault, and he then declared he wished they had the Wanderobbo with them, for there were no people like the Wanderobbo for following a trail. Were they not matchless elephant hunters? But a little skirmis.h.i.+ng beyond such stony tracts sufficed to pick up the trail again, and pus.h.i.+ng on without respite, rest, or food, until sundown, Coja said that the newness of the footprints showed that the quarry was not far ahead. Darkness fell, however, without their having sighted the fugitives, and since they were all thoroughly tired and hungry, Mr. Halliday decided to halt for rest and a meal, and to resume the pursuit in the night if the moon rose, or at dawn.

”I say, father,” said John, as they came to a halt, ”we mustn't light a fire, or we'll give ourselves away.”

”Quite right. We shall have to do without our cocoa to-night, and keep an extra sharp look-out for lions.”

The white men had to satisfy themselves with biscuit and water from a brook; the natives ate some of the roasted beans without which they never travel. With the first glimmer of dawn the party were up and on the trail. Two hours' hard marching, at a pace which the natives had never known before, brought them up with the thieves. Coja was the first to catch sight of them, and he held up his hand as a sign to the rest to halt, informing Mr. Halliday in a whisper that the fugitives were only a little distance ahead, in the act of crossing a stream. Half of them had, indeed, already crossed; the remainder were trying to induce the donkeys to face the water.

”Can we catch them?” Mr. Halliday asked.

”Yes, sah, go round about,” answered the man.

He led them in a direction at right angles to the path, so as to make a circuit and come upon the runaways from among the thick vegetation at the brink of the river. But Coja's advice turned out to be bad. They had reached the bank and were wheeling to burst upon the Swahilis, when they were suddenly descried by those who had crossed. A shout warned the men struggling with the donkeys; without a moment's hesitation they let go of the animals and took to their heels. When Mr. Halliday came upon the scene nothing was in sight but the donkeys, which on being released had scrambled up the bank out of the river and begun to bray with pleasure at the riddance of their loads.

”We ought to have come straight instead of round about,” cried Mr.

Halliday, vexed at his failure to punish the men. It was obviously hopeless to pursue them further. The scrub was dense; the Swahilis had good rifles and ammunition; and being relieved of impedimenta, the loads of goods having been left on the farther bank when they fled, they could travel much faster than Mr. Halliday and his party, fatigued after their forced march.

”We must be satisfied with having got back our donkeys and their loads,”

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