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Updated: May 8, 2025
With luck I'll be back in an hour." "Very good," agreed the Rhodesian patrol-commander. "Give the word 'Buluwayo' for the countersign. Good luck!" Without loss of time the subaltern started on his mission of investigation. Once clear of the kraal he realised a sense of loneliness. He would have given almost all he possessed for the companionship of his trusty Bela Moshi.
Only the click of the rifle-bolts and the quick breathing of the men broke the stillness. Even the natives, awed by the impending assault, were silent as they handled their bows and long-hafted spears. "Hear anything?" whispered the patrol-commander, edging close to Wilmshurst. "Nothing," replied the subaltern. "They're coming, sir," exclaimed a deep voice.
Fifteen minutes passed without a shot winging its way from the dense scrub; and although one or two of the defenders boldly stood upon the parapet to draw the enemy, their tempting position brought no response. "Guess we'll hike out and bring in some water," declared one. "No time like the present, and we are as dry as a bone." "Very good," agreed the patrol-commander. "Only look sharp about it.
"Found an old pal?" enquired the patrol-commander, as the Rhodesians crowded round the object of their recent operations. "My brother," replied Dudley. "Good business," was the hearty rejoinder. "But we must be moving. We've alarmed every enemy post within five miles of us."
With the dawn the worst of the task of shortening the line was accomplished, and the jaded men threw themselves down to rest, until every available position immune from rifle fire was covered with khaki and black figures sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion. There was little rest for Dudley Wilmshurst and the patrol-commander.
It was now a nerve-racking ordeal, for more than once the defenders issued from their trench and manned the outer palisade under the erroneous impression that another attack was developing. "It's a jolly good thing for us that they haven't any bombs," remarked the patrol-commander. "I don't fancy our blacks would stand up to them. By Jove! the villagers have shown any amount of pluck."
Just before midnight a shot rang out, the flash of the rifle being clearly discernible at a point immediately fronting the scene of the most formidable attack on the previous night. "They're coming, boys!" exclaimed the patrol-commander. "Ten rounds rapid when I give the word, then independent firing. Don't waste a single shot."
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