MISSING
WITHOUT delay the task of sawing off the ivory proceeded. Of the two
cow-elephants only one possessed tusks. These, by the law of the
chase, fell to Van der Wyck.
Colin had scored heavily, for the bull elephant's tusks were large,
heavy, and in splendid condition; but upon hearing that they were
his prize he resolutely refused to accept the trophies unless the
ivory were shared between the whole of the party from Kilembonga.
"We'll do the apportioning later," declared Colonel Narfield, who,
propped up against a tree and smoking a cigar, was directing
operations while the two Haussas set to work to saw through the
valuable tusks. "No, no hurry on my account, lads. My ankle hurts a
bit, naturally, but it's nothing to make a song about. I'm afraid
I'll have to be carried home."
At length the return journey began. Tenpenny Nail and Blue Fly rode
at the head of the party with the Colonel's led horse between them,
the animal having been brought from the Kraal.
Then came Herbert Narfield's personal servant carrying the spare
rifles. Behind him were four stalwart natives from Sibenga's Kraal,
bearing a hastily-contrived litter on which lay the injured man.
Four relief bearers followed, with Van der Wyck to keep an eye on
that section of the procession.
Next came more natives bearing the trophies of the hunt. That their
task was an uncongenial one there was little doubt. They wanted to
remain behind to participate in the feast to celebrate the slaying
of the mammoth animals, a feast in which elephant flesh formed a
prominent article of diet.
So, in order to keep the bearers to their work, Colin and Desmond
rode at the rear of the procession, with their loaded rifles ready
to fire at any savage beast that might be lurking in the scrub in
order to pounce upon the defenceless bearers.
Presently the party gained the so-called road that led from Tabora
to Kilembonga--the same that Colin and Tiny had traversed during
their memorable, adventurous, and strenuous journey on their arrival
at the estate.
For the greater part it was little better than an ox-track, with a
number of stiff gradients. On either side were dense masses of
trees, frequently meeting overhead and forming a dark tunnel through
which the moonbeams failed to penetrate.
Once they discovered that they had to go, the natives dropped their
sullen attitude. True children of nature, their moods were capable
of sudden and contrasted changes, and soon they were yelling and
shouting at the top of their voices, singing songs in praise of the
Great One and his white brothers, who had fought and conquered the
despoilers of their village.
The first streaks of dawn were showing low down on the horizon when
the injured Colonel Narfield was carried through the gate of
Kilembonga.
Tenpenny Nail and the Colonel's servant led the horses to the
stables, while Blue Fly hurried off to give instructions to the
native servants to provide a meal for the bearers. Van der Wyck,
still mounted, awaited the arrival of the ivory.
"Colin and Desmond are a long way behind," he observed to the
Colonel, who had refused to be taken into the house until the tusks
were safely locked up and the natives fed, paid, and dismissed.
"What did they want to lag behind for?" inquired Colonel Narfield.
"If that's the sort of thing they do when they are on rear guard I
don't think much of it. Do you mind going to the gate and hurrying
them up, Van der Wyck?"
The Afrikander lighted his pipe, grunted in assent, and touched his
horse's flanks with his spurs.
Not only did he go as far as the gate, he cantered a good mile down
the road; but there was neither sight nor trace of the two lads.
"Allemachte!" he exclaimed. "I hope no harm has come to them."
From the spot where he reined up he could command nearly a couple of
miles of the road until the trees cut off the view. There was one
intervening depression in the track, so that the old farmer
proceeded until he could command a full view of the hollow. Yet no
sign of Colin and Desmond rewarded his efforts.
Turning, he rode at a hard gallop back to Kilembonga.
"I could see nothing of them," he reported.
Colonel Narfield sat up.
"What!" he exclaimed anxiously. "Surely the bearers must have seen
if anything happened. Blue Fly, tell Tenpenny Nail not to unsaddle
the horses and to come here at once."
Tenpenny Nail obeyed the order promptly. For once the almost
permanent grin was absent. He was genuinely concerned over the
mysterious disappearance of the two chums.
With the utmost alacrity the tusk-bearers were brought to Colonel
Narfield. Sharp interrogation resulted in throwing no light upon the
affair. The natives had been shouting and singing, and they were
unable to say when they last noticed the two white men riding at the
tail end of the column.
In spite of the fact that his badly-sprained ankle was causing him
acute pain, Colonel Narfield handled the matter with characteristic
energy. The native bearers from Sibenga's Kraal were hurriedly
ushered outside the gate, where Blue Fly paid them and gave them a
substantial meal.
The horses were brought out. The Colonel had to be assisted into the
saddle, but once there he was determined to stick it until his
missing charges were found.
Van der Wyck insisted upon accompanying him, while Blue Fly shed
tears when he found that he was not to join in the search, but had
to remain and help McFrazer keep the natives from prowling over the
estate.
It was an impossible task to find the spoor of the two lads' horses
on the hard road. The strong breeze had blown clouds of dust across
the track, and already the confused jumble of horses' hoof-marks and
prints of the barefooted natives were almost obliterated.
Maintaining a sharp look-out on both sides of the road, the search
party rode swiftly in the direction of Sibenga's Kraal until they
almost reached the beginning of the dense forest.
Suddenly Van der Wyck turned to Colonel Narfield.
"Horses trotting!" he exclaimed laconically.
The Colonel could hear nothing except the clatter of the hoofs of
the search party's mounts and the moan of the wind in the tall
grass. But when the four men reined in their horses he could hear
distinctly the trot of some approaching animals.
"Thanks be!" he ejaculated fervently. "But what on earth have these
fellows been doing to get adrift like that?"
But a few seconds later his heart sank, for emerging from the deep
shadows under the trees came two riderless horses which everyone
recognised. They were the animals that Colin and Desmond had ridden
to Sibenga's Kraal the previous evening, and on which they had
commenced their incompleted journey back to Kilembonga.