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Updated: May 11, 2025
The members of the "Lone Star Crush" were boisterously warm in their congratulations, chaffing the subaltern as well as they knew; but Wilmshurst, alive to the mannerisms of his brother-officers, took their facetious remarks in good part. The two officer-airmen added their thanks and good wishes.
Without mishap Wilmshurst gained the accommodation-ladder of the Zungeru, where brawny British mercantile seamen, perspiring freely in the torrid heat, were energetically assisting their black passengers on board with encouraging shouts of "Up with you, Sambo!" "Mind your nut, Darkie!" and similar exhortations.
At the sight of their young officer for it was the first time for several weeks that Wilmshurst had appeared on parade a streak of dazzling ivory started and stretched from end to end of the line as the Haussas' mouths opened wide in welcoming smiles, displaying a lavish array of teeth that contrasted vividly with their ebony features.
The Hun was a bit of a strategist, but he had overreached himself. It was the dense smoke from the black powder that had given him away. Had he used the so-called smokeless powder the Haussas might have expended hundreds of rounds without discovering the cheat. Wilmshurst examined the weapon that had so nearly done him in.
Setting a guard over the prisoners Dudley sent a file of Haussas to explore the dug-out. In less than a minute the corporal returned. "Number one big hole, sah," he reported. "Me no find no one time man in no place." As a result of this somewhat mystifying intelligence Wilmshurst entered the dug-out.
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.
The Haussa chuckled audibly, and holding his rifle obliquely with the bayonet thrust into the ground, placed his ear to the butt. "Macgreg him go and go," he answered, meaning that the Rhodesian was still on the move. In vain Wilmshurst tested the sound-conducting properties of the rifle. Normally of good hearing he failed to detect what to Private Brass Pot was an accepted and irrefutable fact.
"Proceed," urged his questioner calmly. Wilmshurst, seeing no other course, boldly took his plunge, stating his views upon the connection between the scout's disappearance and the timely warning received by the retiring enemy, producing as evidence the rimmed cartridge case, which by reason of its shape and calibre could not be fired from a Mauser rifle.
There will be a twenty-minutes' bombardment by the mountain battery in conjunction with an attack by the seaplane. At four forty-five the Waffs will advance in three lines to the assault. That's all, Mr. Wilmshurst." The subaltern saluted and withdrew. It was now three o'clock and an hour and three-quarters were to elapse before the battalion went into action.
Then, acting as promptly as his crippled condition would allow, he laid the muzzle of the weapon on a fork of one of the bushes. As he expected he found that he could take aim without much risk of being spotted, since the bush formed an efficient screen. Still no sign of the sniper. Wilmshurst had no definite idea of the fellow's position.
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