"You don't mean to say----"

"I mean to say that the other Wissmann boat, the _Hermann von Wissmann_, allowed itself to be surprised at Sphinxhaven on Nya.s.sa."

"And was captured? Really we must take that as a set-off against your defeat of our Navy--in the North Sea, I suppose. But to come back to Abercorn."

"You know as well as I do that we were beaten off. The English were four to one: what else could be expected?"

"I see! That explains why you have been ranging the country for recruits. But I understood that your forces in East Africa hopelessly outnumbered the British."

"So they do, but not everywhere. In the north we have cut the Uganda Railway, captured Mombasa and Nairobi, and are sweeping the English into the sea."

"Well, they'll be quite at home there! It's our native element, you know. These successes must console you for your failure at Abercorn: they'll lighten your captivity, Sergeant."

"That is true," said the German, blind to irony. "And I shall not be your prisoner long."

"I hope not, I'm sure."

"It was a trick. You would never have beaten me in fair fight; and the English, when they win at all, only win by trickery. Everybody knows that."

"Trickery, and superior numbers, as at Abercorn! Don't you think the Kaiser had better throw up the sponge, then? It would save trouble."

The sergeant was so much horrified by the suggestion that he launched out into a violent denunciation of England and all things English, and painted a dismal picture of the dismembered British Empire. Tom let him run on: he had heard something like it in Germany, and had taken it then, as he took it now, as the raving of impotent envy. He would probably have listened to the German with less serenity had he known to what lengths the pitiless logic of militarism had carried the Kaiser's helots on the stricken fields of Europe.

They were welcomed at the nullah with shouts of joy by the people, who had thronged behind the barricade and on the slopes. Astonishment sat on the faces of the Germans when they were admitted by the single gateway and marched up the nullah, past the trench, to the village growing by the lake.

"You keep us here, with n.i.g.g.e.rs?" said the sergeant.

"Yes: until I have the pleasure of escorting you to Abercorn," replied Tom. "You are white men: I don't want to have to tie you up: but I shall do so unless you give me your word not to attempt to escape."

To avoid the ignominy of being kept in bonds the Germans gave their parole readily enough. Tom arranged with Moses for their rations, then returned to the rescued negroes whom he had left under guard lower down.

They, meanwhile, had been regaled with stories, freely embroidered, of what the m'sungu had done, and when he appeared among them their downcast expression had been replaced by looks of hope. He learnt from Mwesa that they had been collected from several villages to the eastward, near Lake Rukwa, some fifteen miles away. Mwesa brought to him a young negro whom he introduced as the son of M'setu, the chief of the largest of these villages.

"Tell them they can all go home," said Tom. "This young man may take his father a message from me. The Germans will no doubt raid the villages again for men. It is not likely I shall be able to help them a second time. M'setu, then, had better march away with all his people into British territory and remain there until the war is over."

The negroes laughed, leapt, embraced one another when they heard that they were free. Without delay they poured out through the gate and flocked away towards the east. Not even the chief's son stayed to thank their rescuer. But the incident had a strange sequel two days afterwards. About midday one of the scouts came running back to report that a large body of spearmen, led by a great chief, was marching through the forest in the direction of the nullah. They were not on a warlike expedition, for behind the chief three men led each a goat, which could only be intended as peace-offerings.

"Go and see who they are, Mwesa," said Tom. "They are not to come across the clearing until I know what they want."

Presently Mwesa returned, smiling with even more enjoyment than usual.

"Him M'setu, sah," he said: "come for talk with sah."

"Very well. Bring him along; he can come in with six of his men: the rest remain outside."

Mwesa ran back into the forest, and soon reappeared at the side of a powerful negro of middle age. A throng of negroes about a hundred strong followed him to the edge of the clearing. There at his order they squatted in a long line, and the chief himself, accompanied by his son and five other men--three of whom led milk-white goats bleating dolefully--marched at Mwesa's heels towards the gate, where Tom stood waiting.

"Him M'setu, sah," said Mwesa, by way of introduction.

Tom at once stepped forward and grasped the chief by the hand, an act which brought a smile of pleasure to the face of his six companions and a shout from the men watching intently two hundred yards away.

M'setu began to speak. After one sentence he paused, looking to Mwesa to interpret.

"Him say sah him fader and mudder," said Mwesa.

Tom acknowledged the compliment with a smile.

The chief began again, inquiring after Tom's health, the health of his father, mother, wife, children, cattle, and so on, until Tom felt rather overwhelmed by his politeness. By and by he came to business.

"Him say berry glad sah him good send back men all same. Him say bring goats for sah him pot, berry nice goats. Him say come alonga sah: what for? sah kill all dem Wadaki, so M'setu him came alonga sah kill Wadaki all same."

"You mean that I am to kill all the Germans, and he will come and help?"

"Dat just what M'setu say," said Mwesa, delighted that his master had understood him so well.

"Well, you must tell him that that's not my job. I couldn't rid the country of Germans if I tried, but the British will come across the border by and by and eat them all up. Tell him that."

M'setu's response was very long-winded. The gist of it was that he expected another recruiting visit from the Germans. He had heard that they had been thrown back across the border by the British, and was therefore not inclined to go to the trouble of removing all his people from their villages, but would rather stay and defend himself, with the a.s.sistance of the m'sungu, who had already rescued his young men.

Tom was a good deal perplexed how to deal with this ingenuous offer of an alliance. M'setu's warriors, armed only with spears, would be wiped out by a single machine-gun, and Tom could do nothing to help them: outside his nullah he would be as much at the Germans' mercy as they. On the other hand, the chief's men, familiar with a wider stretch of country than the Wahehe from the plantation, could do inestimable service as scouts, and might give him early warning of movements of which otherwise he would be unaware. Through Mwesa he explained as clearly as he could the difficulties of the situation, and in the upshot made an arrangement with M'setu by which the chief guaranteed to provide a company of skilled scouts, and Tom in his turn promised to lend a.s.sistance to M'setu if he was threatened, and in the last resort to give his people shelter in the nullah.

M'setu departed, well satisfied with the result of his interview.

"What time sah eat goats?" asked Mwesa.

"Eat them! I'm not going to eat them," said Tom. "Take them up to Moses and tell him to look after them. We'll have some milk by and by."

CHAPTER XII--THE DESERTER

"Come now, Reinecke, you have been away two months or so. What is the truth of things? We are fed here with what I am convinced are false, or at any rate too rosy, reports. Coming from the centre you ought to be well informed, and I want to know exactly how matters stand."

Major von Rudenheim bent forward and fixed his hard blue eyes on Reinecke. They were sitting in the major's quarters. Reinecke had just returned from a mission which had carried him right across the country, and after delivering dispatches at headquarters had lost no time in visiting his friend the major.

"What is the truth?" said Reinecke, flicking the ash from his cigar irritably. "Who knows? They said that Paris would fall before the British Army got across the Channel; now it is said that Paris has not fallen, though the British Army has been annihilated."

"And the Fleet?"

"The British are skulking in their harbours and won't fight. We have bombarded most of their commercial ports out of existence, but they had been laying in such enormous stocks of food in antic.i.p.ation of the war that it will take a year or so to starve them out. So it's said."

"But surely if the ships won't fight we command the sea and can bring them to terms. It ought to be over by Christmas."

"Yes, the Kaiser is to eat his Christmas dinner in London. But the fact is, Major, we're living on rumours. The British smashed up our wireless installation at Dar-es-Salam, and we haven't had any really authentic news from Germany since a fortnight after war broke out. As for this country, we are not doing so well as we ought to have done. We've taken some places inside their frontier, but they've put up a surprisingly good defence, and at present it's stalemate. Apparently they are bringing troops from India----"

"In spite of our Fleet?"