" enquired the patrol-commander, as the Rhodesians
crowded round the object of their recent operations.

"My brother," replied Dudley.

"Good business," was the hearty rejoinder. "But we must be moving.
We've alarmed every enemy post within five miles of us."

The patrol hurried back to the spot where they had left their horses,
Bela Moshi settling the question of how the physically weakened Rupert
Wilmshurst was to be moved by lifting him in his strong arms.

"Nothing ob him, sah," confided the Haussa. "Him weight of one-time
porter load."

It was an exaggeration of speech on the Haussa's part, for the nominal
burden of a Coast porter is roughly sixty pounds, but Rupert's weight
had decreased from a normal "twelve seven" to a little over seven
stones.

With the utmost dispatch the patrol remounted. Bela Moshi gave up his
steed to "Massa Wimst's brudder" and rode one of the led horses. In
single file the men retraced their course, maintaining a steady trot.

As they entered the kraal where the headman had given them such
important information they found the natives in a state of agitated
turmoil. The Huns had by some means discovered that these "black
subjects of his Imperial Majesty the German Emperor" had entertained a
hostile patrol, for within twenty minutes of the departure of
Wilmshurst and his companions a party of Askaris, commanded by a German
officer, had visited the village. By way of punishment half a dozen
huts had been burnt and an indemnity of fifty goats and a hundred
litres of corn demanded, the headman and five other principal
inhabitants being seized as hostages.

So great was the faith of the blacks in the "white soldiers of King
George" that they rose _en masse_, liberated the hostages and drove the
Askaris from their village. But the trouble was far from over, for
native scouts reported a concentration of German troops on the
south-eastern side of the village, while other Askari battalions were
debouching from the north-east, having been hurriedly sent from one of
the fortified posts on the Karewenda Hills.

"And so our line of retreat is cut," remarked Dudley. "Very well;
we'll have to fight to a finish."

CHAPTER XVI

'GAINST HEAVY ODDS

The Rhodesians were men of few words. They were men of action; of the
same blood as the gallant party who, under Major Wilson, fought against
thousands of Matabele until the last cartridge had been fired and the
last man fell with h