Another minute passed, when suddenly something round fell with a soft but heavy thud upon the stone flooring of the veranda, and came bounding and rolling along past me. For a moment I did not rise, but sat wondering what it could be. Finally, I concluded it must have been an animal. Just then, however, another idea struck me, and I got up quick enough. The thing lay quite still a few feet beyond me. I put down my hand towards it and it did not move: clearly it was not an animal. My hand touched it. It was soft and warm and heavy. Hurriedly I lifted it and held it up against the faint starlight.
It was a newly severed human head!
I am an old hand and not easily upset, but I own that that ghastly sight made me feel sick. How had the thing come there? Whose was it? I put it down and ran to the little doorway. I could see nothing, hear nobody. I was about to go out into the darkness beyond, but remembering that to do so was to expose myself to the risk of being stabbed, I drew back, shut the door, and bolted it. Then I returned to the veranda, and in as careless a voice as I could command called Curtis. I fear, however, that my tones must have betrayed me, for not only Sir Henry but also Good and Mackenzie rose from the table and came hurrying out.
‘What is it?’ said the clergyman, anxiously.
Then I had to tell them.
Mr Mackenzie turned pale as death under his red skin. We were standing opposite the hall door, and there was a light in it so that I could see. He snatched the head up by the hair and held it against the light.
‘It is the head of one of the men who accompanied Flossie,’ he said with a gasp. ‘Thank God it is not hers!’
We all stood and stared at each other aghast. What was to be done?
Just then there was a knocking at the door that I had bolted, and a voice cried, ‘Open, my father, open!’
The door was unlocked, and in sped a terrified man. He was one of the spies who had been sent out.
‘My father,’ he cried, ‘the Masai are on us! A great body of them have passed round the hill and are moving towards the old stone kraal down by the little stream. My father, make strong thy heart! In the midst of them I saw the white ass, and on it sat the Water-lily [Flossie]. An Elmoran [young warrior] led the ass, and by its side walked the nurse weeping. The men who went with her in the morning I saw not.’
‘Was the child alive?’ asked Mr Mackenzie, hoarsely.
‘She was white as the snow, but well, my father. They passed quite close to me, and looking up from where I lay hid I saw her face against the sky.’
‘God help her and us!’ groaned the clergyman.
‘How many are there of them?’ I asked.
‘More than two hundred — two hundred and half a hundred.’
‘Once more we looked one on the other. What was to be done? Just then there rose a loud insistent cry outside the wall.
‘Open the door, white man; open the door! A herald — a herald to speak with thee.’ Thus cried the voice.
Umslopogaas ran to the wall, and, reaching with his long arms to the coping, lifted his head above it and gazed over.
‘I see but one man,’ he said. ‘He is armed, and carries a basket in his hand.’
‘Open the door,’ I said. ‘Umslopogaas, take thine axe and stand thereby. Let one man pass. If another follows, slay.’
The door was unbarred. In the shadow of the wall stood Umslopogaas, his axe raised above his head to strike. Just then the moon came out. There was a moment’s pause, and then in stalked a Masai Elmoran, clad in the full war panoply that I have already described, but bearing a large basket in his hand. The moonlight shone bright upon his great spear as he walked. He was physically a splendid man, apparently about thirty-five years of age. Indeed, none of the Masai that I saw were under six feet high, though mostly quite young. When he got opposite to us he halted, put down the basket, and stuck the spike of his spear into the ground, so that it stood upright.