The two white men had just forded the river when they met the porters
marching to the farm to fetch the loads laid there in readiness for
them. It was plain that the chief was in earnest, for the forty young
men were the most stalwart in his community. Each carried his bow and
arrows, and as John turned and watched them striding lithely along he
thought they would prove no mean antagonists in a fight. He went on
with Ferrier to the village, had a short conversation with the chief,
and then set off with Bill on the trail of the raiders, leaving Coja and
Said Mohammed to bring the safari. He wished to go a few miles ahead in
order to examine the trail and get some guidance of his course before
the others came up.
At the outset the spoor was very easy to follow. The ground in the
immediate neighbourhood of the village was soft red soil, on which the
print of feet could be clearly seen. But it was impossible at first to
distinguish the marks of the raiders from those of the villagers.
Presently, however, they came to a stretch of grass-land, the grass
cropped short by the villagers' cattle. Here again the trail was so
crossed and mingled with the hoof-marks of the animals that had grazed
there since daybreak that it was impossible to learn anything from it.
But by and by the grass grew longer, and the passage of a numerous body
of men through it was plainly indicated. There were two distinct
tracks, one a narrow path, the other, a few yards to the left, broader.
Both the white men were sufficiently experienced in African travel to
know that the former was the track of the bearers among the party,
proceeding in single file; the latter that of the Swahilis, who,
insolent in their strain of Arab blood, domineer over the native tribes.
"They're going pretty fast," said John, as they marched on; "fast, that
is, for men carrying loads."
"How do you know?" asked Ferrier.
"By the look of the spoor. Stop a minute and bend down. Here are the
footprints of the niggers, you see, about thirty inches apart. Every
man trod in the steps of the man in front, so that the prints are
particularly clear. I know they went fast because their feet turned in
a lot; look at the marks; you can't carry a load at any pace with your
feet splayed. Now look at the other trail. The footsteps are farther
apart--three feet, I should think; and one or two of the men had
sandals; there's a flatter impression than bare feet make. I rather
guess that the Swahilis set the pace and made the natives keep up: they
could do that because if there's a lot of them they needn't all carry
loads at the same time."
"I say, we could have done without Bill," said Ferrier, with a laugh, as
they went on. "Did he teach you that?"
"No. I did some scouting at school. Bill can't make any inferences
from what he sees, but he's got sharper eyes than I have, and can often
spot the trail when I've lost it, especially on hard ground. The worst
of this habit of marching in Indian file is that one can't tell how many
the party consists of; at least, I can't; perhaps a more experienced
scout could judge from the depth of the impression of the footprints.
Look here; just as I thought. They stopped here to change loads. The
Swahilis made a group here; the carriers put their loads on the grass at
the side of the path; see how it's pressed down. Here's the mark of one
of my ammunition boxes, I'll swear; and the next man had a cargo of
maize; here are some of the grains."
"How far do you reckon they went before camping?"
"Well, judging by what Said Mohammed said, they made their attack
between one and two--the hottest part of the day, when everybody would
be sleepy. Allowing a couple of hours to sack the village and get the
loads together, they might start at four and march till seven, so that
in about an hour's time we ought to get to their last night's camp. The
trail runs fairly straight, so it looks as if they're making direct for
their refuge in the hills, and I hope to goodness it's pretty far away:
the farther it is the better our chance of coming up with them before
they get there. It runs west-nor'-west, you see" (he had taken out his
pocket compass), "which leads to the foothills of Kenya. We ought to
find ourselves on rocky ground presently, and may lose the trail."
"Hadn't we better wait for our men now?"
"We'll come to the raiders' camp first. Coja won't lose us; and I want
to see what sort of camp they made: it may help us."
They hastened on. At one point the track swerved to the east to avoid a
steep incline, but returned to its former direction immediately that had
been passed. At another it led due west, skirting a swamp, at the edges
of which the footprints were still deeper in the soft mud, which was,
however, beginning to dry in the sun's rays. Then it crossed a shallow
stream, and John wondered at first why the raiders had marched for some
little distance up the bank before crossing, since the stream was
fordable anywhere. He understood when Bill pointed to a long depression
in the soft earth at the brink: a crocodile had lain there, and the men
had given it a wide berth, for if it had heard or seen them it would
have slipped noiselessly into the water and seized some hapless fellow
as they crossed.
At length, after a rapid march of two hours, during which they had
covered, as John estimated, about eight miles, they came suddenly to an
open glade in the midst of scrub, where there were clear signs of the
previous night's encampment. A thorn boma was left partly standing.
Within it there were the black marks of fires, and a circular patch of
discoloured grass where the loads had been stacked. Here John decided
to halt and await the arrival of the safari. The smell of burnt wood
was still so strong that he guessed the raiders had not made a very
early start, giving him the hope of coming up with them before nightfall
if his men would be content with a short rest.
It was an hour and a half before they came up, very hot and tired, Coja
having not allowed a halt until they reached the stream, where they had
delayed for a little while to drink and cool their feet. Judging that
the raiders were quite out of sight, a belt of forest stretching across
the country about a mile ahead, John did not think any harm would come
of lighting fires; accordingly the men set about cooking their
breakfast, and Said Mohammed made some coffee, which the white men drank
out of tin mugs, with condensed milk. John took the opportunity to
explain to the men that he wished to set off without delay, promising
that with good luck they should recover their stolen goods before next
morning. After an hour's rest, therefore, he gave the order to march.
They now adopted the plan he had arranged with Ferrier over night. They
had come into country favourable to an ambuscade, and it was advisable
to take all precautions. On starting, Ferrier and the safari struck off
to the right, leaving John to follow the trail with Bill. The latter
kept close to the track so long as it led over open country, where no
trap was possible; but as soon as they reached the wood, John
heliographed with his pocket mirror to Ferrier, now nearly a mile to the
east, to halt until he had scouted among the trees. For some time there
was no answering flash to his signals, and he feared the safari was out
of touch, but after repeated trials the answer came, and he knew that
all was well. John then entered the wood with Bill very cautiously, and
found it so thick, and the ground so densely covered with undergrowth,
that it was impossible to see the trail. There was nothing for it but
to penetrate to the other side, and they did this as rapidly as
possible, John thinking it scarcely probable that the raiders would have
attempted to lay a trap for them in the wood, where there was no path.
John found this the most trying experience he had yet encountered. Here
he had to climb over a dead tree-trunk: there to cut his way through a
jungle of bamboos, every stroke of his knife shaking a shower of dew
from the canopy overhead until his shirt was soaked. He was unable to
see a yard in front of him. His progress was all the more difficult
because the wood covered a steep slope. It took nearly half-an-hour to
get right through, though the distance in a straight line was less than
half-a-mile: then they came out upon a sort of rocky plateau, and John
got one of his rare glimpses of Mount Kenya, far to the west, its
snow-clad peaks, for once clear of mist, gleaming dazzlingly in the
sunlight. Leaving Bill to recover the trail, he hastened back to
heliograph that the safari might advance, and by the time he had once
more penetrated the wood and rejoined the Wanderobbo, Ferrier had come
within sight in a hollow a mile and a half to the east. Bill having not
yet found the trail on the hard ground, John signalled to Ferrier to
halt again; the delay was vexatious, but it was important that the
advance should not be continued until he had made quite sure of the
direction.
Finding Bill at fault, John cast about for the lost trail in a
systematic way. He laid down his rifle to mark the spot where he had
emerged from the wood, and sent Bill to the left, himself going to the
right, to examine the ground in ever-widening circles. The difficulty
was greatly enhanced by the fact that almost all the raiders were
barefooted, so that there was nothing to mark their passage over the
hard soil. After searching for half-an-hour in the sweltering heat, and
almost despairing, John suddenly observed, about two hundred yards from
the spot where he had left his rifle, a tribe of black ants very busily
engaged. Looking more closely, he was delighted to see that they were
running over and over a grain or maize. Bill came up at his call, and
instantly flinging himself upon his face, and peering along the surface
of the soil northwards, he declared he saw marks of the scraping of
sandals. John hastened in that direction, and within a few yards came
upon a small round depression whence a pebble lying near by had
evidently been kicked. He had no doubt that the trail was at last
recovered, so he sent Bill back for his rifle, and then, finding from
his compass that the line between the grain and the hole led in a
north-westerly direction, towards a low hill, he ventured to set his
course thither, finding, as he progressed, slight traces on the soil
that proved his judgment to be correct.
The hill was about two miles away, and by the time he reached it he was
so fatigued with trudging over the shelterless plain under the fierce
sun that he was glad to throw himself under a thorn-bush at the foot of
the slope and rest, first signalling his intention to Ferrier. An hour
after, he rose and scouted to the top of the hill, being careful not to
expose himself on the skyline, and lying down to take a good look round
before proceeding. The plain stretched as far as the eye could reach,
slightly undulating, with patches of grass and scrub. There was no sign
of the raiders, but a herd of wildebeeste were quietly grazing
half-a-mile ahead, from which John concluded that no men had recently
passed that way. The march therefore was resumed. Half-an-hour
afterwards he caught sight of a party of natives on a hill to the right,
and at once signalled to Ferrier to examine them through his
field-glass. In a few minutes he saw flashes, and made out from the
message that there were no Swahilis among the natives, nor did they
carry loads, but appeared to be a hunting party. From Ferrier's report
it did not seem that any danger would attend an advance. Accordingly
the march was continued, and shortly afterwards the natives caught sight
of the safari and bolted into the bush. John wondered whether they
would carry news of his approach to the raiders, but soon made up his
mind to the contrary, for if what had come to his ears was true, the
Swahilis had established a reign of terror in the district, and the
neighbouring tribes would rather avoid them. It struck him, however,
that it was very necessary to be even more carefully on his guard
against premature discovery by the raiders, for these would force any
natives they came in contact with to join their safari and fight for
them. As it was now drawing towards nightfall, and there seemed no
chance of coming up with the raiders, he decided to call a halt, and,
striking to the right, joined Ferrier. The men, who had marched without
a murmur through the hottest hours of the day, were very glad to drop
their burdens and camp. Tired though they were, they at once set about
surrounding the encampment with a boma. While they were doing this,
John and Ferrier, accompanied by Bill, scouted for about two miles ahead
to make sure that the raiders had not encamped in the vicinity, in which
case an accidental noise might betray the safari. Discovering no sign of
their presence, they returned to the men. They deliberated whether it
was safe to light fires, and decided not to do so, though it meant a
cold and dry supper.
Before they went to sleep, Bill, who was not usually communicative, told
John more completely, with Coja's aid, the story of which he had
hitherto given only scattered hints. He said that they were now drawing
near to his own country, which lay only four marches distant beyond the
mountain. Between it and their present camp was the country of the bad
men. A long time ago he had been one of a considerable tribe, who for
many years had enjoyed good hunting. Large herds of elephants had
infested their country, and they had slain some with their spears in
open hunting, but more by snaring them in pits. The flesh they ate, the
tusks they buried for fear of the Masai and the Rendili, who plundered
the weaker tribes. They were waiting for the coming of a safari to
which they might sell their store of ivory.
The waiting was long, but the safari came at last--a large safari,
commanded by brown men, not white men like the _bwana_, nor black like
the people of those parts. Coja explained that Bill referred to Arabs.
One member of the safari was the very man whom he had seen among the
raiders. The Wanderobbo began to bargain with the Arabs, but these, as
soon as they learnt where the ivory was buried, had treacherously fallen
upon the tribe, and massacred all except a few women whom they spared to
make slaves of, for the transport of the treasure. Bill had escaped by
shamming dead when the slaughter was going on, and, lurking in the
woods, he saw his wife among the slaves whom the Arabs loaded with the
ivory. He followed the safari when it marched off with the spoils, and
came in its track into the country of the bad men, who secretly gathered
around it, and early one morning fell upon it in a fierce assault. From
the shelter of a thick tree Bill watched the fighting. The Arabs had
fire-sticks, and slew many of the bad men; but after a time they ceased
to make the big noises; the fire-sticks had lost their magic. Seeing
this, the bad men attacked still more fiercely, and in greater numbers.
A whole day the fight lasted, and did not cease until night fell.
Creeping up to the Arabs' camp and climbing a tree, Bill saw them bury
the ivory by the light of their fires, working hard all night, and
before morning came they broke out of their camp and forced a way
through the enemy. These, following their custom, waited until daylight
before they pursued the Arabs; then they set off, having no fear of them
now that the firesticks were silent. Bill was too frightened to follow
them up, but he learnt afterwards that the bad men caught the party up
in two days and slew every one, and also the Wanderobbo whom they had
enslaved. It was clear, however, that one at least had escaped. Bill
remained in the tree until the bad men had gone, and then slipped away
and took refuge with a Masai tribe south of his old home. But a time
came when disaster overtook the Masai. Disease seized upon their
cattle: they roamed about and suffered heavy defeats in war: and at
length Bill left them, when almost starving, and built himself the
little hut in the wood where John had found him.
Now he was happy. The msungu had been his friend. He had brought him
into the very country of the bad men: and when he had punished the
people who had robbed him, surely he would go farther, a little farther,
and recover the ivory which lay in the earth awaiting its rightful
master.
"But did not the bad men take it when they had killed the Arabs?" asked
John.
No: they might have sought for it, but they would never find it. They
could not tell where it had been concealed, and if they had returned to
the camp they would not have discovered it, for the Arabs had strewed
ashes from their fires over the spot, to hide the disturbance of the
earth. Bill knew where it was; he could lead the msungu straight to the
spot; and the msungu who had been his friend would show his friendliness
still, and would perhaps buy the treasure when it was laid bare.
"What do you think of it?" John asked Ferrier, as they talked it over
together.
"It sounds like a fairy tale. You may be sure that the 'bad men' did
find it. They would naturally suppose it had been buried in the camp
and search for it there."
"I'm not so sure. They're not a very intelligent lot, to begin with.
Imagine a crowd of chawbacons----"
"What are they?"
"Oh, I suppose you haven't got 'em in Canada--raw country yokels who
haven't any ideas beyond beans and bacon. Imagine them in the same
case, chasing a party for twenty miles or more and then finding that
they hadn't got what they supposed they had. They wouldn't know but
what the treasure had been hidden anywhere along the twenty miles run,
and they'd adjourn to the nearest 'pub.'"
"You may be right, though I guess no Canadian would give it up so soon.
Anyway, we can't help the old fellow, can we?"
"We've got our own job to see through first, and that will be tough
enough, I expect. The beggars must have marched at a tremendous pace,
and we shall be short of food soon. If we don't catch them to-morrow we
shall be in a pretty bad way, for the country seems practically a
wilderness. But we won't croak yet. I'll take first watch while you
sleep: I'll wake you at midnight; and we'll make an early start."
The camp was astir while it was still dark, and at dawn was on its way,
observing the same precautions as before; indeed, John was even more
careful, for being ignorant how far ahead the raiders were, it was
necessary to run no risk of approaching them too rapidly. Again the
course took a north-westerly direction, but after skirting one of the
larger foothills of Mount Kenya, it bore a little more to the west. Bill
said that they were now marching almost straight towards his old home.
After two hours they came upon the site of the raiders' last camp, and
John, finding the ashes of the fires warm, though the sun had not yet
broken through the morning mist, concluded that they had been raked over
not more than two hours before. This caused him some little uneasiness.
Though no attempt had been made hitherto to trap the pursuers, he was
still alive to the possibility of such an ambush being laid: it was
possible also that the raiders had left a rearguard to advance behind
the main body, after they had assured themselves that there was no
pursuit. These considerations led him to swerve from the direct track,
and proceed through a belt of scrub half-a-mile to the right of it,
Ferrier with the safari marching at the same distance still farther to
the east, and only at intervals being in sight. He intended to return
to the track from time to time, when a favourable opportunity occurred,
to make sure that he was still proceeding in the right direction.
It was fortunate that he adopted this precaution, for the first time he
struck off to the left to revisit the trail he was astonished to find,
distinctly imprinted on the dewy grass, the footsteps of men going in
the reverse direction. The sun being now up, he at once signalled to
Ferrier to halt, and then carefully examined the new trail. It was
quite fresh; the trodden grass had not had time to erect itself; and
after a careful scrutiny he came to the conclusion that the marks had
been made by four or five men, all wearing sandals. He suspected from
this that they were some of the Swahilis of the party, and suspicion
became certainty when Bill discovered a tiny strip of white cotton on a
spike of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush. The conclusion was irresistible that
some of the raiders had doubled on their tracks in order to watch for
and perhaps ambush any pursuers.
Feeling that he must find out exactly what had happened, he began with
Bill cautiously to follow up the new track, looking warily ahead, and
observing with especial care the few large trees that were to be seen
here and there in the distance, for any flight of birds would at once
indicate the presence of men. As they walked, they found that the trail
curved slightly westward, which seemed to show that it would presently
join the main track which they had quitted. John moved now more
cautiously than ever, for if his supposition was correct, the men would
halt before they actually reached the direct course, at some spot where
they could overlook it.
As they proceeded, the ground rose and the scrub became thicker. But
suddenly the bushes thinned away and they saw, at the top of a long
incline, a clump of trees. And then they stopped short and dropped
hurriedly to the ground. Before them, on the knoll, at the foot of a
tree, they had caught sight of three white-clad men looking upwards
among the branches. They had rifles. Without doubt this was the spot
chosen for keeping watch on the trail. Wriggling under cover, at the
cost of some scratches, John and the Wanderobbo saw a fourth man perched
high up in the tree below which the others stood. Had he not been
intently gazing towards the main track, and his companions looking up at
him, it would scarcely have been possible for John to escape discovery.
The men were speaking. At the distance John could not distinguish what
they said; foreign words are always difficult to pick up when the
speakers are at all remote; but from a certain impatient intonation he
gathered that the men had been for some time on the watch, and were
weary or disappointed at the apparent fruitlessness of it. As he lay
there, his heart jumped as he thought how easy it would be to shoot the
men. He could take aim at his leisure, and pick off two of them with
certainty. Taken by surprise, the others would probably bolt. But it
would not be playing the game; he could not bring himself to stalk them
as he would stalk a wild animal, though he knew that if they spied him
and got first shot they would have no compunction about shooting him.
For a moment he thought of dispatching Bill to fetch Ferrier; with his
aid, backed by the natives with their bows and arrows, he might capture
all four, or, if they showed fight, dispose of them. But he soon gave
up the idea. The men might decamp before Ferrier could arrive; they
might indeed see the Wanderobbo creeping through the bush, and, the most
important consideration of all, a shot would certainly give the alarm to
the main body of the raiders, and that would defeat his purpose. If
they took to flight he would lose his only chance of recovering his
rifles and ammunition, which was his immediate object. If they hastened
back at the sound of the firing, he would find himself matched against
overwhelming numbers, and the result would be disaster. His only hope of
success lay in a sudden unexpected blow at the main body, when his
numerical inferiority would be compensated by the paralyzing effect of
surprise. How this blow was to be delivered he had at present no
notion; it must be left to the guidance of circumstances; but certainly
its prospects would be hopelessly jeopardized if the raiders' vigilance
was aroused. Patience must be his watchword.
He lay and watched the Swahilis for half-an-hour by his watch. Then,
evidently tired of their fruitless errand, they started to rejoin the
main body. They came down the slope, passing within a few yards of
where John and the Wanderobbo were concealed; but fortunately they did
not retrace their steps along the path by which they had come, but
struck off towards the direct course of the main column, which they
would probably intersect, as John guessed, at the distance of about a
quarter of a mile. If they had returned by the same way the marks of
John's boots might possibly have escaped them unless they were
accustomed to tracking; but if they had caught sight of them he felt
that he would have been in a dangerous predicament. At that moment John
wished that he could march barefoot like the natives, but he knew that
it was a vain wish.
John told Bill to creep through the scrub and follow the men up for a
little way, until he was sure that they had finally left the spot. For
himself, he had suddenly resolved to climb the tree as the Swahili had
done, and discover what outlook could be had from it. He found that the
place had been admirably chosen. From a branch thirty feet above the
ground the country was visible for miles around. On the west rose the
giant mist-clad form of Mount Kenya; eastward the plain extended as far
as the eye could reach. South and north he could scan the country
through which the raiders had passed, and westward, from the appearance
of the vegetation, he inferred that a considerable stream flowed. As he
watched, he saw the four Swahilis emerge from the scrub, strike the
track, and hasten towards the north. There was no doubt that they had
dismissed the idea of being pursued.
When Bill came back, the two set off to rejoin the safari, which they
found halted by a shallow stream about two miles away. John told
Ferrier what he had discovered.
"I don't think they can be more than five or six miles ahead of us," he
said. "We can easily come up with them by the time they camp, or soon
after, and I think we ought to strike to-night."
"Have you any idea how?"
"None whatever. All will depend on the lie of the land and the kind of
camp they make. I'll send Bill on ahead to make sure they don't alter
their direction, and then we'll follow up and get to them by nightfall."
"It's to be hoped they won't get warning. I've seen two or three small
parties of natives to-day, and they must have seen us. I suppose they
won't give any information."
"I hope not. The chief danger is that the news of our safari will
spread, and the raiders learn of it by accident. I don't think the
natives will rush purposely to inform them, if they're the kind of
tyrants we've heard they are."
"I shall be jolly glad when we come to grips with them. This marching
is rather trying, and the men are getting the dumps. They seem to have
thought we should overtake the fellows in a winking, and wipe them out
with magic. Coja tells me they haven't been so far away from their
village before."
"How's our failed B.A.?"
"Decidedly jumpy. He said just now that he feels O.K., excluding organs
of ambulation, which are quite below par, owing to filamentous condition
and conspicuous absence of beefiness. He has got rather spindly calves,
to be sure. By the way, an hour ago we saw two black fellows looking at
us through the scrub. We gave chase, but couldn't catch them. I hope
they won't bring a horde of the 'bad men' upon us."
"No, indeed. We've got our hands pretty full as it is."
Bill returned by and by with the news that the whole party of raiders
had rested in the scrub some distance to the north, but had now resumed
their march. John set off at once on a parallel course, and at four
o'clock halted again, judging that the raiders would now have chosen the
spot for their encampment. Once more he sent Bill forward to
reconnoitre, and learnt from him on his return that the raiders had
stopped, evidently with no intention of going farther, near a small
stream. Knowing that the African native is incapable of estimating
distance, John, though he was tired, determined to press on with the
Wanderobbo and discover how far off the camp was. It was an hour before
he came in sight of it. Some of the men were engaged in erecting a
boma; a few were fishing in the stream that flowed within about a
hundred yards of the camp; others were cooking a meal. The ground about
the camp was for the most part open, but there were patches of scrub
here and there, and one or two clumps of woodland. The camp was placed
on a hillock, the base of which was washed on one side by the stream.
This wound away in a north-easterly direction, and at one point was a
tract of tall elephant grass, lining the banks due north of the camp and
stretching for about half-a-mile to the west, where it merged in dense
scrub.
Being unable to learn as much as he desired from his post of observation
south of the camp, John, still accompanied by the Wanderobbo, struck off
to the west, crossed the stream, which was only knee-deep but fairly
swift, and making a long circuit came down upon it again through the
elephant grass, at a point directly opposite the camp, and only about a
hundred yards from it. The ground rose gradually from the river to the
boma. From his position at the edge of the grass John could not see the
gate, but guessed from the coming and going of the men that it was on
the south-west side. The boma was constructed of material cut from the
surrounding scrub, and was of no great strength, though sufficiently
formidable to stop a rush. The fact that the men had kindled fires
showed that they were not seriously apprehensive of being followed up,
and this sign of security was welcome to John, as favouring his design
of surprising them.
It was nearly dark when he rejoined the safari, so fatigued that Ferrier
questioned the possibility of his leading an attack that night.
"Oh, I'm all right," said John. "I can rest for an hour or two. Have
you got a pencil? I'll draw a sketch of the camp. Here's the stream:
here's the elephant grass: what I propose is that we make our way to
that and suddenly spring on them. Even disciplined troops are pretty
well scarified by a night attack, and if we can only fairly surprise
these beggars we ought at least to be able to get our ammunition, if not
our rifles, in the confusion."
"But if they stand we shall be in a bad way."
"That's true. We can't match them in mere fighting strength. Everything
depends on the completeness of the surprise, and we shall have to be
very strict with our men. The slightest sound will give the alarm, and
as they're not used to marching at night they are likely to be scared by
anything. That's all I'm afraid of. I don't know whether we hadn't
better gag them all."
Ferrier laughed.
"I don't think that would help matters," he said. "You had better
explain to them what's at stake, and then take your chance."
"Well, we'll try it to-night. D'you know I begin to get a notion of
what their game is. Bill says that one of them belonged to the Arabs
who stole his ivory. If that's so, the fellow will know where the ivory
is buried, and I fancy this is a pretty scheme to get hold of it. Ten to
one it's Juma. That would explain his bagging rifles and ammunition.
He wanted to get together a strong party, so that he could keep off the
'bad men' in whose country the ivory is. It will be rather a feather in
our cap if we can get back our property and dish his little game too."
"Don't fly too high, old chap. We may thank our stars if we get through
at all, and if you take my advice, as soon as we have secured the
ammunition if we ever do, you'll make tracks for home and not go
treasure-hunting. There's nobody on the farm, remember."
"Well, we'll see. First things first; I'll go and harangue the men."