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Updated: June 10, 2025
The subaltern made his way to the spot where the machine-gun had been placed out of the line of hostile fire, since a single bullet might put it out of action. Lying upon the ground with his head propped against the ammunition box was Bela Moshi. The Haussa was barely conscious. He recognised his young officer and gave a determined but ineffective attempt to smile.
Wending their way down a bare kloof were about two hundred armed blacks and three men in European garb riding in the centre of the column. "MacGreg him dar, sah!" exclaimed Bela Moshi. "Nonsense!" replied Wilmshurst, yet in his heart he was not at all sure but that the Haussa was right. "MacGreg him make palaver with Bosh-bosh," declared the sergeant.
Finally the subaltern chose three Rhodesians and his Haussa sergeant. Taking a compass bearing of the position of one of the machine-guns, for the cloud of steam arising from its overheated water-jacket disclosed its place of concealment, Wilmshurst made a careful note of the fact for subsequent use.
"Yes, sir," continued the corporal, "and the Haussa has been muttering while he was coming to. Putting two and two together, so to speak, I fancy he stopped the bullet that grazed our sergeant's ear when we were bringing in the gun." "Ah, yes; Bela Moshi did fall, but he was quickly on his feet again," remarked Wilmshurst.
Pass the word along; tell the men that there's a month's pay to the Haussa who takes MacGreg alive." It was rather a tall order, and Wilmshurst knew it. MacGregor, now openly a traitor, would not be likely to surrender in view of the fact that a drum-head court-martial and an ignominious death in front of a firing-party would certainly be his fate.
The Haussa sergeant had succeeded in following the spoor of MacGregor's horse for three and a half miles along the path taken by the Waffs of their practically barren operations against the kopje when the Huns had been reported. Here the trail ended in a medley of hoof-prints, while hard by a rock were traces of the splaying of half a dozen bullets.
"Still they come!" exclaimed Laxdale, as a knock sounded on the jalousie of the cabin door. "Come in." It was Tari Barl in search of his master. "Tarry Barrel, you old sinner," said Wilmshurst, "can you catch a rat?" "Me lib for find Mutton Chop, sah," replied the Haussa saluting. "Find him one time and come quick."
Ill as Captain Clapperton himself was, and now left alone among strange people, the loss to him was severe and afflicting. Still, his ardent spirit triumphing over sorrow and trouble, he pursued his journey, and on the 20th of January he entered Kano, the great emporium of the kingdom of Haussa.
A glance at the still smouldering débris told him pretty plainly that it was a dangerous if not impossible undertaking, but for the sake of his Haussa sergeant the subaltern determined to procure the precious fluid. He sought out his brother, but Rupert was sound asleep. Rupert was the only person he wanted to inform of his projected expedition, but that course was denied him.
The rafters of the elevated ceiling were concealed by two lofty arches of clay, very neatly polished and ornamented. At the bottom of the apartment were two spacious and highly-decorated niches, in one of which the governor was reposing on the gado spread with a carpet. His dress consisted of all the mixed finery of Haussa and Barbary.
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