shook his head with a grim smile. “They won’t do that,” said he. “I’ve taken the precaution to grease the log; so they’ll have to crawl across carefully, which they won’t care to do with the Hausas potting at them from shelter. But we can’t stay here. We’d better clear out as soon as it is dark; and the question is, which way?”
“We must follow the river, I suppose,” said Stockbridge, in a faint voice. “But you’d better arrange with the sergeant. I’m no good now. Tell him he’s to take your orders. Our carriers know the country.”
The sergeant, who had witnessed Osmond’s masterly retreat, accepted the new command without demur. A guard was posted to watch the bridge from safe cover, and the carriers were assembled to discuss the route.
“Now,” said Osmond, “where is the next bridge?” There was apparently no other bridge, but there was a ford some miles farther up, and a couple of miles below there was a village which possessed one or two of the large, punt-shaped canoes that were used for trading across the lagoon.
“S’pose dey no fit to pass de bridge,” said the head carrier, “dey go and fetch canoe for carry um across de river.”
“I see,” said Osmond. “Then they’d attack us from the rear and we should be bottled up from both sides. That won’t do. You must get ready to march out as soon as it is dark, sergeant. Your carriers can take Mr. Westall’s body and some of the wounded and the sound men must carry the rest. And send my carriers back the way they came. There are too many of us as it is.”
“And dem muskets and powder, dat we bring in from the villages?” said the sergeant. “What we do wid dem?”
“We must leave them here or throw them in the river. Anyhow, you get off as quickly as you can.”
The sergeant set about his preparations without delay and Osmond’s carriers departed gleefully towards the safe part of the country. Meanwhile Osmond considered the situation. If the enemy obtained canoes from the lower river, they would probably ferry a party across and attack the bamboo fortress from front and rear simultaneously. Then they would find the nest empty, and naturally would start in pursuit; which would be unpleasant for the helpless fugitives, crawling painfully along the river bank. He turned the position over again and again with deep dissatisfaction, while Stockbridge watched him anxiously and Betty silently continued her operations on the wounded. If they were pursued, they were lost. In their helpless condition they could make no sort of stand against a large body attacking from the cover of the bush. And the pursuit would probably commence before they had travelled a couple of miles towards safety.
Suddenly his eye fell on the heap of captured muskets and powder-kegs that, were to be left behind or destroyed. He looked at them meditatively, and, as he looked, there began to shape itself in his mind a plan by which the fugitives might at least increase their start by a mile or so. A fantastic scheme, perhaps, but yet, in the absence of any better, worth trying.
With characteristic energy, he set to work at once, while the carriers hastily fashioned rough litters of bamboo for the dead and wounded. Broaching one of the powder-kegs, he proceeded to load all but two of the muskets—of which there were twenty-three in all—cramming the barrels with powder and filling up each with a heavy charge of gravel. Six of the loaded and primed muskets he laid on the ground about fifty yards from the bridge end of the long passage, with their muzzles pointing towards the bridge; the remaining fifteen he laid in batches of five about the same distance from the opposite entrance, towards which their muzzles pointed. Then, taking a length of the plaited cord with which the muskets had been lashed into bundles, he tied one end to the stock of one of the unloaded guns and the other to the trigger of one of the wounded Hausas’ rifles. Fixing the rifle upright against the bamboo with its muzzle stuck in the half-empty powder-keg, of which he broke out two or three staves, he carried the cord—well greased with shea butter—through a loop tied to one of the slanting bamboos. Then he propped the musket in a standing position on two bamboo sticks, to one of which he attached another length of cord. It was the mechanism of the common sieve bird-trap. When the cord was pulled, the stick would be dislodged, the musket would fall, and in falling jerk the other cord and fire the rifle.
Broaching another keg, he carried a large train of powder from the first keg to the row of loaded muskets, over the pans of which he poured a considerable heap. Leaving the tripping-cord loose, he next proceeded to the opposite end of the thicket and set up a similar trap near the landward entrance, connecting it by a large powder train with the three batches of loaded muskets.
“You seemed to be deuced busy, Cook,” Stockbridge remarked as Osmond passed the hammock in which he was now reclining.
“Yes,” Osmond replied; “I am arranging a little entertainment to keep our friends amused while we are getting a start. Now, sergeant, if you are ready, you had better gag the prisoner and move outside the bamboos. It will be dark in a few minutes. And give me Mr. Westall’s revolver and pouch.”
At this moment, Betty, having applied such “first aid” as was possible to the wounded Hausas, came to him and said in a low voice:
“Jim, dear, you will let me help you, if I can, won’t you?”
“Certainly I will, dearest,” he replied, “though I wish to God you weren’t here.”
“I don’t,” said she. “If it comes to the worst, we shall go out together. But it won’t. I am not a bit frightened now you are with me.”
“I see you have given Stockbridge your hammock,” said he. “How far do you think you can walk?”
“Twenty miles, easily, or more at night. Now, Jim, don’t worry about me. Just tell me what I am to do and forget me. You have plenty to think about.”
“Well, then, I want you and Stockbridge to keep in the middle of the column. The carrier who knows the way will lead, and the sergeant and I will march at the rear to look out for the pursuers. And you must get along as fast as you can.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” she replied, smiling in his face and raising her hand smartly to the peak of her helmet; and without another word she turned away to take her place in the retiring column.
As the little procession moved towards the opening, Osmond ran back to the bridge end of the track to clear out the guard before he set his traps. A brisk fusillade was proceeding from the concealed enemy when he arrived, to which the guards were replying from their cover.
“I tink dey fit for come across de bridge,” one of the Hausas remarked as Osmond gave them the orders to retire.
“Very well,” he replied; “you be off one time. I stop to send them back.”
The two Hausas accordingly retired, reluctant and protesting, and Osmond took their place behind the screen of bamboo, from which he looked out across the river. It was evident by the constant stirring of the bush and the occasional appearance of men in the openings that some sort of move was in progress, and in fact the footsteps of the two Hausas had hardly died away when it took definite shape. The attack opened with a thundering volley which sent the leaves and splinters of bamboo flying in all directions; then, out of the bush, a compact body of warriors each armed with a Mauser rifle, emerged in single file and advanced towards the bridge at a smart trot. Osmond watched them with a grim smile. Down the narrow track they came in perfect order and on to the foot of the bridge, stepping along the smooth log with perfect security they reached the greased portion. Then came the catastrophe. As the leading warrior stepped on the greasy surface, his feet flew from under him and down he slithered, grabbing frantically at the legs of the next man, who
