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Updated: May 11, 2025
Wilmshurst stirred neither hand nor foot, lest in spite of the screen afforded by the bush his movements might be noticed by the alert scout. Followed a few long-drawn moments of suspense as the scout made a careful survey by means of his field-glasses. Apparently satisfied he replaced the binoculars and carrying his rifle at the trail prepared to descend the knoll.
Almost before he was aware of it Wilmshurst literally blundered upon an open expanse where the short grass had been burnt off close to the ground. Surrounded by a barrage of bluish vapour that rose from irregular mounds of débris, the subaltern was able to breathe comparatively fresh air. Ahead was the well, its windlass of hard teak charred but otherwise uninjured.
Gradually his taciturnity diminished, until he developed into a fairly communicative individual and was generally popular with the Mess. During the stay in camp at Kilwa Wilmshurst, Danvers, Spofforth and Laxdale snatched the opportunity of going on a lion-hunting expedition, MacGregor on their invitation accompanying them.
"A week ago I seriously thought of going on exhibition as a living skeleton," remarked Danvers. "You've been jolly lucky, Wilmshurst; you're as fat as a prize turkey-cock. They've been stuffing you down at the base." "At any rate I'll soon work it down to normal," rejoined Wilmshurst. "Any company news?" "Nothing much," replied Spofforth. "Two casualties in your platoon.
"Very good," said the subaltern, without admitting his failure. "If you hear foot of Macgreg come this way before sergeant come for reliefs then you send and tell me. Savvy?" "Berry good, sah," replied the Haussa. Having twice visited the sentries Wilmshurst returned to the bivouac to snatch a few hours' sleep.
"Macgreg, him go," declared one of the Haussas, Macgreg being the name by which the Rhodesian was known to the black troops. Wilmshurst was astonished. He had heard nothing of the scout's movements, yet the sentry, fifty yards away, had declared quite blandly that MacGregor had passed the outlying post. "How do you know that, Brass Pot?" asked the subaltern.
"Never mind," rejoined Danvers. "It'll put a bit of heart into Fritz and make him buck up. That'll give us a chance of smelling powder." "Perhaps," said Wilmshurst. "I heard the major say that field artillery was more of a drag than a benefit to the Boers in the South African War.
No, that's nothing; almost forgot about it, in fact." But if Wilmshurst had dismissed the incident from his mind the water had not forgotten him. The poisonous germs in the non-filtered liquid were doing their lethal work, and that evening the subaltern was down with a severe bout of malaria. In a covered dhoolie Wilmshurst was sent down to a hospital base-camp.
What he meant was that a rhinoceros had cut across the bush path not so very long ago, as the freshly trampled grass showed. "All right," replied Wilmshurst. "Warn the men to be on the alert. We don't want casualties." Bela Moshi hurried to the head of the column, for the Haussas were in single file, owing to the narrowness of the bush-path.
"Hanged if I fancy bivouacking on the site of a Boche camp. What do you think of the fresh spoors, MacGregor?" "That's the principal line of retreat, I think," replied the Rhodesian. "They can't go very much farther, for it will be pitch black in twenty minutes." "Just so," agreed the major. "Set the men to work, Mr. Wilmshurst. Mr.
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