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Updated: May 12, 2025
They are in a mortal funk of enveloping movements; but by the time we've rounded 'em up we'll be jolly sick of the show, you mark my words." The return of Bela Moshi and his section diverted Wilmshurst's attention into another channel.
Without resistance the Waffs bore on, overran the supposed earthworks and found nothing. There were not even traces of Hun occupation. The enemy had got clear away with the exception of the small post rushed by Wilmshurst's platoon.
Colonel Quarrier was delighted with Wilmshurst's report and personally complimented him upon the way in which he had accomplished the difficult task with which he had been entrusted, and also the brilliant little action, which was quite unexpected.
Accepting the former choice the prisoners were bound and gagged, and taken a hundred yards or so into the bush, a Haussa mounting guard over them to make sure that the wily Askaris did not slip their bonds. Wilmshurst's anxiety was now the thought that the main body would not emerge from the bush, since the two scouts were not able to signal that all was well.
There was petrol, too, enough for a series of flights over a distance of two hundred miles; while to the intense satisfaction of officers and men big Jock Spofforth rejoined the regiment, looking none the worse for his encounter with the lioness, except for the still raw scars on his brawny arms. "Just in time for a dust-up, I find, old man," was his reply to Wilmshurst's greeting.
Like a flash the rat leapt, scampered over Laxdale's helmet, down his back and took refuge in the breast-pocket of Wilmshurst's tunic. Dudley beat all records in slipping off his Sam Browne and discarding the tunic, for by the time his companion had regained his feet the garment lay on the floor. "Stamp on it!" yelled the now thoroughly excited and exasperated subaltern.
For perhaps thirty seconds every one and everything else was still in the desolated cabin; then slowly but without any signs of furtiveness the rat pushed his head between the folds of Wilmshurst's tunic, sniffed, and finally emerged, sat up on his hind legs, his long whiskers quivering with evident delight.
Wilmshurst's new comrades were all men of the Rhodesian farmer type, well set-up, sturdy, independent and resourceful a band of chums voluntarily taken from their homesteads to render them immune from invasion by tackling the Hun on his own ground. All were splendidly mounted on horses inured to the miasmic climate, "led" animals carrying their necessary equipment.
Under Wilmshurst's directions they set to work to dismantle the machine, removing the planes as carefully and expeditiously as a party of crack mechanics from the Royal Air Force factories. One of the floats was badly smashed, but the other was practically intact except for a small jagged hole in the three-ply mahogany.
His back was turned in Wilmshurst's direction, but the subaltern was able to discern that the unfortunate man was practically bald-headed and wore a thick, straggling beard. Up to that moment Dudley had been buoyed up by the hope that the prisoner might be his brother Rupert, but at the sight of the bent and aged figure his anticipations were shattered.
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