Ten minutes later Peter Klein stopped dead, looking about him with wild,
staring eyes. The night was cold—for they were still at a great
altitude—and the breath was pumping from his nostrils as it does with a
horse. However, he was given little time to rest, for Harry, running
forward, seized him by the arm.
"Get on!" cried the boy. "We’re not out of danger yet."
On they went, racing for freedom, crossing hills and minor valleys,
passing beneath trees, and sometimes knee-deep in the water of forest
streams.
For a time they heard the guttural voices of the Germans behind them. At
last these became inaudible in the distance. The soldiers were not able
to follow on their tracks, since they had no way of knowing which route
the fugitives had taken.
At last Harry deemed it safe to call a halt.
Klein, who was still running like one possessed, had to be stopped by
force. He would not desist from flight, until Jim Braid had tripped him
up. Harry, followed by Fernando, came upon them shortly afterwards.
"See," cried Harry, pointing to the east, "there comes the dawn! In
half an hour it will be daylight."
"Do you know where we are?" asked Braid, turning to the guide.
"Yes," said the man. "We are towards the Maziri frontier. I recognize
the mountains on the sky-line. There is a good place near at hand where
we can hide, and where—even if we are discovered—we will be able to
hold our own for many days."
"Let us go there," said Harry. "But where is your brother?"
No one answered. They peered into the faces of one another. The
younger guide was missing.
Fernando, the man who had sworn an oath to kill the Black Dog, lifted
his hands to his mouth and let out a long-drawn howl which was like that
of a jackal, and which carried far in the stillness of the morning. It
was a signal that his brother knew of old. Three times he repeated it,
and each time lifted a hand to his ear, and stood listening expectant.
No answering cry came back. A death-like silence reigned over the
valleys and forests and the mountain-side.
"He is lost?" asked Harry.
"He may have taken the wrong direction in the darkness. He may have
been struck by a bullet. Who can tell? These things are in the hands
of God."
"He may be somewhere near at hand," said Braid, hoping for the best.
Fernando shook his head.
"If Cortes is alive he is far away; otherwise he would have heard my
signal. At any rate we can do no good by waiting here. We must push
on; the day approaches. As I said, I know of a place where we shall be
safe."
As the grey light extended from the mountain-tops to the valleys,
Fernando led them to a kind of ancient fort, constructed of great stone
boulders and surrounded by a deep ditch. In the parapet of this fort
there were loopholes through which to fire, and in the centre, well
screened from observation, was a small hut made of the branches of
trees. The redoubt stood on a sharp pinnacle of rock commanding a wide
stretch of country on every hand. It had doubtless been constructed
centuries before, when there was a more advanced stage of civilization
in the heart of Africa. Indeed, it is from this bygone civilization
that the Maziris themselves trace their origin.
As the daylight increased they were able to take in their surroundings.
Many miles up the valley, it was just possible to see a little village,
which, Fernando assured them, was in Maziriland itself. Some distance
to the west was a great forest which extended as far as the eye could
reach.
Harry looked around him in amazement.
"But this place is almost impregnable," he cried. "Four resolute men
could hold it against hundreds."
"Is there water here?" asked Braid, turning to the guide.
The man pointed to a small spring which bubbled up to the surface near
the door of the hut.
"I will tell you the story of this place," said he. "Years ago a party
of six Maziris sought refuge in this fort, which was built in the olden
times, when the Ancients crossed the deserts from the east. For eight
months those six men held the army of one of the Cameroon kings at bay.
They had laid in a great store of food. They made the defence even
stronger. Time and again they beat back the attack."
"And in the end?" asked Jim.
"In the end four of their number were killed, but the other two
escaped."
"Escaped! How did they escape?"
"You will not believe me, but it is true. They escaped
underground—like moles."
"Underground!" cried the two boys, echoing the man’s words in their
astonishment.
"Yes," said the guide. "All those months they had been digging a
tunnel. The hill is composed of a very soft kind of rock; and they had
brought spades and picks from Maziriland. Day and night they worked,
until at last the tunnel became a mile in length, extending from the
inside of the fort into the very heart of the forest."
"Where is the entrance?" asked Harry.
"It is here."
The man led the way to the hut. The floor was covered with rushes, and
these he gathered together in his arms and piled in a great heap before
the doorway. Underneath was a circular piece of wood, like that which
is often found on the top of a well. Lifting this, Fernando pointed to
a flight of steps that led down into impenetrable darkness.
"They went this way?" asked Harry.
"Two escaped by way of the tunnel, whilst a third, who was already
dying, covered up the entrance with rushes. When their foes got in they
found only four men—dead. And they believed that they had been held at
bay during all those months by four men instead of six."
"Does your brother know of this place?"
"Yes; and if he is alive he will guess where we have gone. He will come
to us by way of the tunnel. If he is dead——" And Fernando shrugged
his shoulders.
During that day and the next they saw nothing of the Germans; but
Fernando protested that it would not be safe to push on towards
Maziriland, since the enemy was certainly in the district. Also they
still hoped that Cortes would return.
During these days they were not idle. Jim Braid was left behind in
charge of Peter Klein, who could not be trusted to hold his own in case
of sudden attack, whilst Harry and Fernando departed into the forest by
way of the tunnel.
The long journey through the subterranean passage was one of the most
unpleasant experiences that Harry Urquhart ever had in his life. Not
only was the place pitch dark, but water had filtered through the walls
and lay here and there in pools upon the floor. These pools had grown
stagnant, and the air was humid, tainted with the foulest smells.
At last, they came forth into the forest. There, for two days and one
night, they collected a great store of provisions. They dared not fire
their rifles, but there was no necessity to shoot. The forest abounded
in ground-nuts and various kinds of fruit. Also, Fernando knew where
the natives set their traps, and the two devoted their time to robbing
these, until finally they had sufficient supplies to last for several
days—rabbits, small hog-deer, and many kinds of birds.
They were obliged to make three journeys to the fort with all the
provisions they had obtained, since it was not possible to carry a heavy
load through the narrow, stifling tunnel.
On the third day they set to work cutting up the meat and drying it in
the sun. Sun-dried meat is uncommonly tough, but it has this
advantage—it will keep for many months.
That evening they heard a shot far away in the distance. It was
followed by another, and yet a third, and towards midnight the whole
valley was alive with musketry.
"What is it?" asked Harry of the guide.
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"I cannot say," said he. "Either my brother is pursued by the Germans,
or a fight is taking place between them and the Black Dog—in which case
I may be robbed of my revenge."
They divided the night into three watches. Peter Klein, they knew, they
could not trust in any responsible position requiring strong nerves and
presence of mind. They set the man to the most menial tasks—chopping
wood, cooking, and repairing the ancient defences.
All night the firing in the valley continued; by daybreak it was near at
hand. They could see the figures of the Germans racing across the
valley, advancing in extended order or else in small groups which at
that distance resembled families of mice.
That afternoon a small reconnoitring-party of the enemy ascended the
hill upon which stood the fort. The defenders lay in hiding behind the
parapet, determined not to show themselves, not to disclose their
hiding-place, unless it was certain that the Germans intended to occupy
the hill-top.
They waited till the eleventh hour. The enemy was not twenty paces from
the ditch when Fernando rose to his feet, and cried out in the German
language, ordering them to halt on peril of their lives.
At the same time, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet
over their heads. As one man they turned and fled, racing towards the
forest, and were lost to sight.
It was from that moment that the siege commenced. Their place of refuge
became a citadel encompassed on every hand by a hostile force. The
Germans gathered round them in companies, and day and night strove to
induce the garrison to surrender. It was trench warfare in the heart of
the African wild.