Part 29 (2/2)

”What a time we'll have!” he cried. ”Say, do you know your way round?”

Trent shook his head.

”I'm afraid not,” he said. ”You'll have to be my guide.”

”Right you are,” was the cheerful answer. ”I'll take you to Jimmy's, and the Empire, and down the river, and to a match at Lord's, and to Henley if we're in time, and I'll take you to see my aunt! You'll like her.”

Trent nodded.

”I'll expect to,” he said. ”Is she anything like you?”

”Much cleverer,” the boy said, ”but we've been great chums all our life.

She's the cleverest woman ever knew, earns lots of money writing for newspapers.

”Here, you've dropped your cigar, Trent.”

Trent groped for it on the ground with shaking fingers.

”Writes for newspapers?” he repeated slowly. ”I wonder--her name isn't Davenant, is it?”

The boy shook his head.

”No, she's my mother's cousin really--only I call her Aunty, we always got on so. She isn't really much older than me, her name is Wendermott--Ernestine Wendermott. Ernestine's a pretty name, don't you think?”

Trent rose to his feet, muttering something about a sound in the forest.

He stood with his back to the boy looking steadily at the dark line of outlying scrub, seeing in reality nothing, yet keenly anxious that the red light of the dancing flames should not fall upon his face. The boy leaned on his elbow and looked in the same direction. He was puzzled by a fugitive something which he had seen in Trent's face.

Afterwards Trent liked sometimes to think that it was the sound of her name which had saved them all. For, whereas his gaze had been idle at first, it became suddenly fixed and keen. He stooped down and whispered something to the boy. The word was pa.s.sed along the line of sleeping men and one by one they dropped back into the deep-cut trench. The red fire danced and crackled--only a few yards outside the flame-lit s.p.a.ce came the dark forms of men creeping through the rough gra.s.s like snakes.

CHAPTER XXIX

The attack was a fiasco, the fighting was all over in ten minutes. A hundred years ago the men of Bekwando, who went naked and knew no drink more subtle than palm wine had one virtue--bravery. But civilisation pressing upon their frontiers had brought Oom Sam greedy for ivory and gold, and Oom Sam had bought rum and strong waters. The nerve of the savage had gone, and his muscle had become a flaccid thing. When they had risen from the long gra.s.s with a horrid yell and had rushed in upon the hated intruders with couched spears only to be met by a blinding fire of Lee-Metford and revolver bullets their bravery vanished like breath from the face of a looking-gla.s.s. They hesitated, and a rain of bullets wrought terrible havoc amongst their ranks. On every side the fighting-men of Bekwando went down like ninepins--about half a dozen only sprang forward for a hand-to-hand fight, the remainder, with shrieks of despair, fled back to the shelter of the forest, and not one of them again ever showed a bold front to the white man. Trent, for a moment or two, was busy, for a burly savage, who had marked him out by the light of the gleaming flames, had sprung upon him spear in hand, and behind him came others. The first one dodged Trent's bullet and was upon him, when the boy shot him through the cheek and he went rolling over into the fire, with a death-cry which rang through the camp high above the din of fighting, another behind him Trent shot himself, but the third was upon him before he could draw his revolver and the two rolled over struggling fiercely, at too close quarters for weapons, yet with the thirst for blood fiercely kindled in both of them. For a moment Trent had the worst of it--a blow fell upon his forehead (the scar of which he never lost) and the wooden club was brandished in the air for a second and more deadly stroke. But at that moment Trent leaped up, dashed his unloaded revolver full in the man's face and, while he staggered with the shock, a soldier from behind shot him through the heart. Trent saw him go staggering backwards and then himself sank down, giddy with the blow he had received. Afterwards he knew that he must have fainted, for when he opened his eyes the sun was up and the men were strolling about looking at the dead savages who lay thick in the gra.s.s. Trent sat up and called for water.

”Any one hurt?” he asked the boy who brought him some. The boy grinned, but shook his head.

”Plenty savages killed,” he said, ”no white man or Kru boy.”

”Where's Mr. Davenant,” Trent asked suddenly.

The boy looked round and shook his head.

”No seen Mr. Dav'nant,” he said. ”Him fight well though! Him not hurt!”

Trent stood up with a sickening fear at his heart. He knew very well that if the boy was about and unhurt he would have been at his side. Up and down the camp he strode in vain. At last one of the Kru boys thought he remembered seeing a great savage bounding away with some one on his back. He had thought that it was one of their wounded--it might have been the boy. Trent, with a sickening sense of horror, realised the truth. The boy had been taken prisoner.

Even then he preserved his self-control to a marvellous degree. First of all he gave directions for the day's work--then he called for volunteers to accompany him to the village. There was no great enthusiasm. To fight in trenches against a foe who had no cover nor any firearms was rather a different thing from bearding them in their own lair. Nevertheless, about twenty men came forward, including a guide, and Trent was satisfied.

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