NIPPED IN THE BUD
THE two Haussas excitedly greeted their respective masters. Their
previous disappointment was forgotten. Absolutely devoted to Colin
and Desmond, their joy at being able to render them a good turn was
unbounded.
It was quite by a lucky accident that Tenpenny Nail and his
companion were on the right spot and at the right time.
Almost as soon as Sinclair and Desmond had ridden away, the two
Haussas agreed to go out for an afternoon's shooting. They went.
They shot nothing. They felt "fed up."
Then Tenpenny Nail suggested that they should sit down and palaver.
The utter scarcity of sport they accounted for by reasoning that
their young masters had driven the springbok away.
Blue Fly agreed that this was the reason, and suggested that if they
waited long enough "Demon" and his companion would drive the
springbok in front of them as they returned. They were, he said,
almost sure to come home by that path.
So the Haussas basked in the sunshine until the reports of several
rifle shots stirred them into activity. Grinning at each other, they
grasped their rifles as they pictured the discomfiture of their
young masters when they discovered that they had obligingly driven
the springbok within easy range of the Haussas' rifles.
But when Colin and Desmond appeared in view, not as hunters but as
hunted, Tenpenny Nail and Blue Fly acted promptly, and a rapid
emptying of magazines quickly turned the tables on the advance party
of Sibenga's warriors.
"No jolly well make mark time, Massa; niggah him come."
He pointed in the direction of the main body of the black raiders,
who were now advancing in close formation to the support of the
luckless pursuers of Colin and Tiny.
"Right-o, Tenpenny Nail," replied Sinclair. "Buck up, Tiny! It's
only another mile or so."
The four promptly set out for Kilembonga, their pace considerably
accelerated by the knowledge that there were between eighty or a
hundred keen stabbing spears at less than a couple of miles behind
them. Encumbered with their rifles and wearing heavy boots and
leggings, Colin and Tiny, already pretty well done up, found those
two miles a hard task. On the other hand, the two Haussas, in spite
of being barefooted, hardly noticed the hard, sun-baked ground.
Long before Sinclair and Desmond arrived at the gate in the outer
fence they were glad to hand their rifles over to their faithful
servants.
Leaving the Haussas to turn out and arm the native employees, the
two chums hurried to Colonel Narfield's room.
"Bless my soul!" ejaculated the Colonel, upon seeing the two
well-nigh breathless lads. "What on earth are you doing, getting
overheated on a day like this? Where have you been?"
"To Kana Kloof," replied Colin. "We were ambushed by armed natives
on our way back--Sibenga's people. They are on their way here."
Colonel Narfield sprang from his bed. Although weak and shivering,
he was not going to knuckle under to a dose of malaria when a horde
of rebellious blacks were hammering at his gate.
Pausing only to up-end his boots and shake them--a necessary
precaution in a country where poisonous centipedes abound--he drew
on his foot-gear, donned a light coat and sun-helmet, then,
snatching up a rifle and thrusting a packet of cartridges into his
pocket, he hurried out of the house, followed by his two assistants.
Already every available man on the estate had turned out, each armed
either with a magazine rifle or a double-barrelled twelve-bore gun.
Some of the natives were good shots; others could not be trusted to
hit a beehive hut at twenty yards. To the latter Tenpenny Nail and
Blue Fly had issued shot-guns. With luck, the wide-spreading shot
might hit some human target. In any case, there was the moral effect
of the loud report to be taken into consideration, and that told
upon savage warriors almost as much as the more deadly rifles.
By this time Sibenga had brought his followers to within two hundred
yards of the gate. By the Chief's side stood the witch-doctor, a
truly hideous figure in his garb of monkey skins, red ochre and blue
and white chalk.
The warriors made no attempt to surround the place. Had they done
so, their tactics might almost to a certainty be crowned with
success, for there was not enough defenders to man the outer wall.
Instead, Sibenga's followers were massed in a triple line, each man
covered by his cow-hide shield, while right in front of the centre
of the foremost rank stood the Chief and the witch-doctor, the
latter apparently haranguing the warriors and promising them
immunity from the white man's magic.
Colonel Narfield lost no time. He was a firm believer in taking the
initiative. Calling to four of the best marksmen, he ordered them to
take aim at Sibenga and the witch-doctor, while he stood by ready to
fire should the others miss their objective.
Tenpenny Nail and Blue Fly were the two told off to bring down the
witch-doctor, while the others, including the Colonel's personal
servant, a Zanzibari, aimed at Sibenga's broad chest as he stood
gazing at the house in which he hoped to find plenty of plunder.
The witch-doctor had finished his oration and had turned to confer
with the Chief. The former raised his magic staff and shook it. Even
as he did so four rifles spoke as one.
There was no need for Colonel Narfield to complete the business. The
witch-doctor sprang a good four feet into the air, his hands
clutching wildly. Then, uttering a blood-curdling yell, he pitched
forward on his face, twitched his limbs for a second, and then lay
still. Sibenga stood stock still for quite an appreciable time, then
his legs gave way, and he dropped, first on his knees and then on
his face.
Not only did the high-velocity bullets slay the principal men of the
attacking party, but three or four warriors immediately behind
Sibenga and the witch-doctor fell dead.
For a few moments the natives stood absolutely still, unable to
realise what had befallen their Chief and their comrades. Then the
ranks broke. Some began to give back; others, uttering terrific
yells, bounded forward, crouching behind their shields as they
dashed towards the gate.
It was a forlorn hope. Not a single man of Sibenga's followers got
within twenty yards of the stockade. Several were shot dead; others,
wounded and peppered with dust-shot, were soon limping back towards
their more fortunate companions, who, showing more discretion than
valour, had either remained still or had run before the desperate
warriors had attempted their futile charge.
A quarter of an hour later not a single warrior capable of flight
remained in sight. Eleven dead and four badly-wounded men were left
lying outside the stockade in addition to Sibenga, the witch-doctor,
and those who had fallen with them.
The only casualties to Colonel Narfield's party was a man wounded in
the arm by a throwing-assegai, and a native porter hit on the head
by a kerrie hurled by one of the attackers.
Upon examination it was found that two bullets had pierced the
witch-doctor's heart, while Sibenga had been killed instantaneously
by a bullet that had passed completely through his head.
Three days later Wynyard, the Assistant Commissioner of Nyaruma,
arrived with a party of armed police. Sibenga's successor quickly
tendered his submission. The tribe was severely admonished and made
to pay a fine, including four horses, to be handed over to Colonel
Narfield to recompense him for the loss of Brimstone and Treacle.
Thus the affair, which, had Sibenga been successful at the onset,
would have possibly developed into a serious native rising, was
promptly quashed, and a menace to the quiet and security of
Kilembonga Estate was removed.
For nearly a week Mr. Wynyard remained in the district, spending his
leisure hours at Colonel Narfield's house. When he returned with his
small armed force, Colin and Tiny rode thirty miles on the road to
Nyaruma, spending the night in a bivouac at the foot of the T'saga
Mountains.
Next morning they said good-bye to the old Stockmere boy and set off
on the homeward ride. This they accomplished almost without
incident.
On the step of the house they found the Colonel giving directions to
a workman.
"Back again, I see," he remarked cheerfully. "No adventures this
time, I hope? Good! Now, look sharp and change. There's someone to
see you. Guess who."
"I don't know, sir," replied Colin. "We know no one here except
Wynyard."
Desmond was equally at a loss.
"Do we know him?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Colonel Narfield. "Someone who has arrived
unexpectedly, although at my invitation. Now, can't you make a shot
at it?"
"Not Van der Wyck?" asked both lads simultaneously.
"Yes," answered the Colonel. "He's in the stables looking after his
horse. He insisted upon doing that himself. Get a move on, and be
ready to welcome your pal when he returns."
Ten minutes later, Colin and Desmond, having washed and changed
their dusty clothes, went across to the stables.
"Him there, sah," reported Blue Fly, with his usual broad grin.
Eagerly and delightedly the two chums threw open the door. Then they
stood stock still in utter astonishment.