Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East Africa — John Shaqi
Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East AfricaStrang, Herbert
General
Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East Africa
Strang, Herbert
German East Africa -- Juvenile fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Africa -- Juvenile fiction
Taking advantage of the excitement that followed this announcement,
Mwesa had managed to possess himself of the articles with which he had
come laden.
"Me now sah him boy," he said gleefully.
Tom looked at him with a ruminating eye. It was well to have a companion
in this forest solitude, and he felt instinctively that Mwesa’s fidelity
might be relied on. But was he entitled to involve the boy in his own
misfortunes, or to separate him from his new-found relatives? He
reflected that the boy would be useful to him in helping him to find his
way into British territory; and when Mwesa emphatically assured him that
he was determined not to go back to the plantation, or to be drilled to
fight against the English, he made up his mind to accept the service
thus volunteered.
"Very well, Mwesa," he said, "you are my boy. Whatever comes, we will
share it."
Mwesa was already skinning the rabbit, and Tom having a box of matches,
the boy kindled a fire and prepared to cook a meal for his new master.
Meanwhile Tom took earnest thought for their future. Until he had
recovered from his injuries it would be hopeless to attempt to reach
Abercorn; but it struck him that to remain in his present position, only
a few miles from the plantation, might be dangerous. Reinecke might
revisit the pit, and finding it no longer tenanted, would almost
certainly hunt for him in the neighbourhood. It was necessary to find a
secure refuge where he could rest until he was able to undertake the
journey. Almost as soon as the idea occurred to him, he remembered that
he had passed this way with Reinecke and Goltermann, on the day when he
had first made distant acquaintance with crocodiles. The nullah and the
lake in the hills lay a few miles to the east. The former, with its
windings, its overhanging rocks, its patches of dense scrub, would
furnish a safe hiding-place. Game was plentiful in the adjacent forest;
the lake would be an unfailing water supply; and though he would have to
guard against falling a prey to the reptiles that infested its shores,
Mwesa’s knowledge of their ways would no doubt serve him well. The
neighbourhood was wholly uninhabited, and it was so far from the
plantation that Reinecke and his people were unlikely to visit it.
Could he find it? Having gone there only once, before he had had any
experience of forest travel, he knew that unassisted he would have been
completely at a loss. But he hoped that Mwesa would discover the track
leading to it, and when, as he ate his dinner of roast rabbit, he
mentioned the matter to the negro, the latter instantly started up and
ran off in the direction Tom pointed out. In twenty minutes he was
back, and declared with his invariable smile that he had found the
track. He proceeded to dismantle the hut and to obliterate the traces
of the fire; then, loading himself with their few possessions, he begged
Tom to lean on him and make for their new home at once.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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