At intervals during the rest of the day came further reports of the enemy’s progress. Their advance was slow; it was clear that they could not reach the nullah before nightfall, and after their long march they would not make an immediate attack. Leaving a strong guard at the barricade, Tom went to his hut to fortify himself with sleep for what the next day might bring forth. But he found it impossible to rest. Now that the critical moment was approaching, his mind went over and over the situation. Had he left undone anything that might have been done? What would be the effect of shell-fire on his men--aye, and on himself? What were the enemy’s plans? Would they, after battering down his outer defences, make a fierce charge into the nullah, relying on the defenders’ demoralisation by the bombardment? Thinking over these and other questions, he felt that he had done all he could: the rest was on the knees of the gods. Very early next morning he made a round of inspection, then issued through Mwesa his final orders. At the first sign of hostile action the men were to take up their allotted positions. He warned them that they must expect something worse than rifle bullets; but none were to leave the trenches without permission. To give notice of the enemy’s approach, he had posted scouts on the top of the sides of the nullah. But the first intimation came not from them, but from the enemy himself. About midday there was a dull boom in the south. A few seconds afterwards a shell burst with a shattering explosion on the hill face. A cry of astonishment and fear broke from some of the Wahehe; but Tom, in the centre of the trench with Mwesa at his side, calmed them by asking whether they supposed the shells would destroy the sides of the nullah. The response was an outburst of mocking laughter. It was a big noise, said the men; but the result had been only the fall of broken branches and fragments of rock. All was well.