CHAPTER XXXIII
THE END OF GORUBA
While Royce was recovering from the shock of his fall, Challis and some of the men, including Gamba, the young Tubu, galloped on in the hope of overtaking Goruba. But when they had ridden for a mile or two without catching sight of him, Challis pulled up, unwilling to leave Royce with only two or three men to support him in case the scattered Tubus attacked.
Riding back, he had not gone far, however, when he met Royce and the rest of the party.
"There are no bones broken; I'm all right now," cried Royce. "I suppose Goruba has got away?"
"Yes, confound him! He's as difficult to catch as a weasel. Is it any good going on?"
"We won't give it up yet," replied Royce. "He may delay to collect his scattered band, and if we can catch him before he gets to the ford over the Yo it will be a great score for us. He would be invaluable as a hostage, to say the least of it."
Gamba, smarting at the loss of his horse, was eager to push on, though he admitted that it would be difficult to overtake the best horse of the tribe. Only by accident could the pursuit succeed.
The party rode on at their best pace. The country soon became more rocky, and on the harder soil they lost the tracks of Goruba's horse. But this was of no importance. Gamba was sure that the man would make for the Yo, and the nearest ford was about two hours' ride from the spot where Royce had come to grief. Towards that ford he led the way, often outstripping the rest of the party in his eagerness.
But there was never a sign of Goruba. They scanned the crest of every rise in the ground, hoping to see the big form on the sky-line. Neither horse nor man came within their view.
At last they arrived at the river, and Gamba galloped at headlong pace down to the ford. There he sprang from his horse and feverishly examined the tracks on the softer soil. To his surprise and dismay, there were none very recent, and those there were all pointed in the opposite direction. It was clear that no horseman had crossed to the northern bank for some weeks past.
Baffled, he rode up and down stream to see if Goruba had avoided the ford, and perhaps swum his horse across the river at some other point. While he was doing this Royce crossed at the ford, and examined the ground on the opposite bank, and Challis sent some of the men to scour the neighbourhood.
After a long search they had to confess utter failure. In no direction was there any trace of Goruba's horse. Goruba had given them the slip.
Gamba wept with disappointment.
"It's enough to make any one snivel," said Challis. "What can have become of the fellow?"
"Whatever it is, we are done brown," said Royce. "It's no good riding any farther; we might tumble among a whole swarm of Tubus. And as it's getting late, we had better camp for the night, and then go back and digest our disappointment as well as we can."
At this moment Gamba gave a succession of peculiar shrill whistles.
"What's that mean?" asked Royce.
Gambaru explained that the man was whistling for his horse, thinking that Goruba had possibly left it some distance from the river and swum across, so that hoof marks might not betray him. But the signals were ineffective, and Gamba wept again.
Retreating from the bank, they formed a camp on a sheltered hillside, ate some of the food they had brought with them, and settled down for the night, arranging for the men to keep watch in turn. Nothing disturbed them, and early in the morning they started back for the fort.
On the way they caught sight of many stray Tubus making their way towards the river. These always slunk away when they saw the Englishmen, who did not think it worth while to pursue them. They already had enough prisoners, and shrank from further bloodshed.
They reached the fort just before noon. The fort itself had not been occupied during the night. John reported that the men had conceived such a horror of it that they preferred to remain in the open. The Tubus had wholly disappeared. Their failure and the flight of their leader had broken their spirit.
Some of the victorious natives had already gone back to their homes to relate how the dreaded Tubus had been defeated.
"We couldn't hope for anything better," said Royce. "The whole countryside will hear of it in a day or two; the prestige of the Tubus will be utterly shattered, and the people won't be afraid of them any longer. I rather fancy they will keep to their own side of the Yo in the future."
"If they do, we'll have done some good in the world," said Challis. "But now, old man, I want to see Rabeh's hoard. What's going to happen to that?"
"Well, I suppose it is fair spoil of war, but I haven't given a thought to the question as to what we shall do with it. We'll have to get it up and that will take some time; there's such a lot of it. I'll take you down the well for a private view. Then we'll have the barrier removed from the entrance in the wood and get the men to bring the stuff into the open."
They walked up the hill and climbed into the fort, where Challis was interested to see the changes made during his absence.
"You ought to have been an officer in the Royal Engineers, Hugh," he said.
Royce grinned.
"Don't be an ass!" was all he said.
They reached the well-room.
"Just wait up here until I get the door open," said Royce, as he stepped over the coping and began to descend by the iron staples.
Challis leant over the edge, watching him. Below, the depths of the well were dark, and he could hear the slight gurgle of the spring at the bottom.
"I say," came Royce's voice, "the door's open! I left it shut. One of the men must have been prying, in spite of what John said about their horror."
"You'll have to make an example of him! Shall I come down?"
"Wait a bit. My electric torch has given out. Have you got a match?"
"Not one. There's a box among our stores, though. I'll get it and bring it down to you."
He went to the room where the stores were kept. Meanwhile Royce, always impatient, passed through the opening in the wall and began to creep slowly along the tunnel.
Challis, having found a box of matches, was returning to the well when he was amazed to see a black, fuzzy head appear over the coping. For a moment he imagined that it belonged to one of Royce's own men whom he had routed out of the tunnel, but at a second glance he realised his mistake. The man's black cheeks bore Rabeh's telltale scars. It was Goruba.
With a shout, Challis dashed forward. Goruba's shoulders were now above the coping. In his right hand he bore a knife, and his eyes gleamed with rage. Challis was unarmed. His only chance was to deal with the negro before he had fully emerged from the well.
Shooting out his right arm, he brought his fist with sledge-hammer force upon Goruba's brow, between the eyes, just as the man was about to launch himself over the coping. The negro staggered back, lost his balance, and fell head over heels into the well. There was a thud, then a splash—and then Royce's voice from the opening:
"What's the row, Tom? When are you coming down with those matches?"
