We waited ten minutes longer, rather expecting the Greeks to double back and begin denouncing us at once.  In that case we intended to stretch them out with the first weapons handy.  I sat feeling the weight of an ax, and wondering just how hard I could hit a Greek’s head with the back of it without killing him.  Fred had a long tent-peg.  Will chose a wooden mallet that our porters carried to help in pitching tents.

But the Greeks did not come, and there streamed such a perfect screen of crimson dust, sparkling in the reflected blaze and more beautiful than all the fireworks ever loosed off at a coronation, that it was folly to linger.  We each seized the load left for that last trip (Fred’s included the hammer, Pincers, and cold chisel for striking off the porters’ chain) and started off quietly round the hill, not beginning to hurry until the hill lay between us and the burning town.

There was not much need for caution.  The roar of flames, the shouting, the excitement would have protected us, whatever noise we made, however openly we ran.  Over and above the tumult we could hear Schubert’s bull-throated bellowing, and then the echo to him as the sergeants took up the shout all together, ordering “Off with the grass roofs!  Off with the roofs!”

The white officials were more than interested, and had no time for anything but thought for the blaze.  As we crossed the shoulder of the far side of the hill we could see them standing on the drill-ground all together, clearly defined against the crimson flare.  Schillingschen was with them.

There was no sign of what had happened at the boma.  The gang would have to emerge from a little-used gate at the northern end, provided they could break the lock or secure the key to it; otherwise their only chance was to climb the wall by the cook-house roof and jump twenty feet on the far side.  I was for running to the little gate and bursting it in from the outside, but Fred damned me for a mutineer between his panting for breath, and Will, who was longer-winded, agreed with him.

“Have to leave their end of the plan to them!  Let’s do our part right!”

As it turned out, we were last at the rendezvous.  We heard the chain clanking in the dark just ahead of us, and try how we might, could not catch up.  Then, near the boat bow, Kazimoto suddenly recognized Fred and nearly throttled him in a fierce embrace, releasing all his pent-up rage, agony, resentment, misery, fear in one paroxysm of affection for the man who cared enough to run risks for the sake of rescuing him.  Fred had to pry him off by main force.

“Into the boat with you!” Will ordered them.  “Chain-gang first!  Get down below, and lie down!  The first head that shows shall be hit with a club!  Quickly now!”

Clanking their infernal chain like all the ghosts from all the haunted granges of the Old World, they climbed overside and disappeared.  There were more figures left on shore then than we expected.  Brown we could make out dimly in the dark:  he was chattering nervously, and admitted that but for Kazimoto he would not be there.  The faithful fellow had broken down the corrugated iron partition and had dragged him out by main force.  He was rather resentful than grateful.