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Updated: June 28, 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.
A little over two gallons was not much among so many, but it would just assuage their thirst until the steadily-declining heat of the smouldering ruins permitted access to the well. Producing his pump-filter, for Bela Moshi had taken particular pains to leave it in a safe place before the sortie, the subaltern strained the liquid.
The company officer had not yet put in an appearance, but the platoon commanders and their subordinates were engaged either in discussing impending plans or else minutely examining their men's equipment, lest the eagle eye of the C.O. should detect some deficiency during the forthcoming inspection. "All correct, sergeant?" enquired Wilmshurst, addressing a tall Haussa, Bela Moshi by name.
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.
He opened and closed his fingers of both hands four times, meaning that the hostile post consisted of five Germans and forty native troops. "They saw you?" asked the subaltern. "Dem no look," replied the sergeant. "Too much busy make eat." "How far away?" "One tousand yards, sah," declared Bela Moshi.
Standing in a gap between two clumps of bushes Bela Moshi, grasping his rifle a few inches from the muzzle, held the weapon vertically above his head moving it to and fro five or six times. The decoy signal was almost immediately answered by the appearance of the main body of the Askaris and with them the three Europeans, who were still mounted.
"What was the German like?" asked a Rhodesian, who spoke the language of the natives with the utmost fluency. The headman began to give an elaborate and detailed description, but it was soon evident that the pursuers were on the wrong track. "Dash it all!" exclaimed Wilmshurst impetuously. "We've lost the fellow what's that, Bela Moshi?"
"Dash the villagers!" exclaimed Spofforth impetuously. "Why the deuce didn't the headsman give us warning of the beastly trap? Here, Beta Moshi, cut a couple of young trees and knock up a ladder. Cheer-o, Laxdale, dear boy. Just try and imagine you've found the better 'ole."
"Those two johnnies must have had a rough time of it," thought the subaltern. "I can well imagine their difficulties. It's a wonder they got to the camp at all, for there are distinct spoors of lions. What's that, Bela Moshi?" "Big rhino him come by," reported the sergeant, pointing to heavy depression on the ground.
"Thanks, Bela Moshi!" exclaimed Wilmshurst, catching sight of the sergeant as the latter thrust a fresh clip of cartridges into his magazine. The struggle in this part of the line was now over. The Haussas were engaged in firing shots into the dug-outs to intimidate their German occupants. Fifty or sixty prisoners were being disarmed and rounded up, while the wounded had to be given attention.
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