"Well, it’s not finished, you know. It took us a good time to cut down the trees and strip off the branches. The enemy didn’t see what we were about until we had got a pretty good pile of logs, and then they began shooting at us--with arrows; they didn’t want to waste ammunition, I suppose. I had to draw the men off then, and we haven’t gone at it again: your arrival has put everything else in the shade." "We may as well finish that bastion now, at any rate, and put up another on the other side of the gate, if there’s wood enough. Sorry I can’t help you; I’m too stiff. You’ll have to perch me up on one of the bastions when the attack comes, and leave me there." "Oh, you’ll soon be all right. I’ll give you a good rubbing by and by with hippo grease; it’ll be as good as goose fat, and that’s what the old wives use, isn’t it?" Ferrier set the men to work on the bastions, instructing them how to pile the logs and to interlace the branches they had lopped off, so as to form a kind of parapet, the interstices between the branches making natural loopholes. They were still engaged on this task, about four o’clock in the afternoon, when Ferrier’s attention was attracted by movements among the enemy, who formed a dense black mass, with a few white spots, against the background of trees. He thought that the signs of activity portended an attack, and called to some of the men to occupy the one bastion that was finished. They obeyed quickly, carrying John with them at his own order. But it was soon apparent that the enemy were not contemplating an immediate assault. They suddenly threw themselves on the ground in a large circle, three ranks deep, the Swahilis, eight in number, standing at the centre. "A council of war: what they call a shauri," said John. It was soon seen that there was a difference of opinion among the assembly. At first the discussion proceeded in a quiet and orderly manner, the sound of voices reaching the fort very faintly. But presently there were clear signs of excitement. Some of the warriors sprang up, and harangued the Swahilis fiercely, brandishing their spears in the direction of the fort. Their voices were raised; the tumult increased moment by moment; and the sound became a continuous roar, like the noise of surf at a distance. "The allies are at loggerheads," said Ferrier. "They may raise the siege." The chief of the "bad men" was in fact demanding to know why the Swahilis had brought him and his men on a fool’s errand. Where was the promised spoil? In a fort, defended by a wall, a pool of water, and an army led by wasungu. How had the msungu whom they had left in the village, bound and under guard, come into the fort? Surely by magic; and if the wasungu had such wonderful medicine it was useless to attack them.