There was no path along those rugged, wooded foot-hills. The sun was blanketed by the rain-laden sky. It was possible only to guess their course; and Tom, seeing by his watch that little more than half-an-hour of daylight was left, began to fear that darkness would surprise him before he should have struck upon the ravine. But at this very moment of misgiving he was almost at the edge. A few yards farther brought him to a sharp declivity. He ordered his men to halt, advanced with Mwesa through the low-growing trees, and looking cautiously to right and left, beheld the long hollow that was his journey’s end. It appeared to him that he had hit the ravine at a spot half-way up its length. None of the enemy was in sight. The askaris, if they remained where he had last seen them, were probably some distance to the right; the sentries at the mouth of the ravine must be three or four hundred yards to the left. These latter must be secured if his plan was to have full success; so, returning to his men, he chose four to accompany him and Mwesa, and hastened along through the scrub near the brink of the ravine. Scouting with circumspection, he arrived at the place where the steep sides fell to the level of the surrounding country. The sentries were not where they had been. He sent Mwesa to worm his way across under cover of the bushes and to see if he could track the men to another post. The boy returned sooner than he had expected. "Fink all gone, sah," said he. "The sentries, you mean?" "All fella askaris, sah. All gone, no fear." "How do you know?" Mwesa looked down at Tom’s feet. "Dey hab got big boots like sah. Sah come see." Tom went down with him into the midst of the long grass and the bushes that covered the centre of the ravine. Broken twigs and branches and long swathes of trampled grass marked the recent passage of men, and Mwesa pointed out on the damp soil the impressions of heavy boots, and showed him that in the freshest the heels were up, not down, the ravine. A few minutes’ investigation in both directions placed it beyond doubt that, not long before, a body of men had marched westward into the forest. "Too late!" muttered Tom. "But we must make sure. Mwesa, scout along to the cleft. Be quick, for it will be dark soon." He returned to his party, dragging his weary limbs. In twenty minutes Mwesa came back, hot and breathless. "All gone, sah. Haroun him stay: big birds dey find him." Tom shuddered. The vultures were already at work. "Come, let us get back," he said. "Get some of the men to make a _machila_. I can’t walk another step, and we can’t venture the climb down in the dark."