The German’s frown relieved Tom of his anxiety. Smiling, he continued:
"Come now, Sergeant, you may as well tell the truth, you know. You have nothing to lose by it. You found Abercorn a harder nut than you expected, eh?"
"You seem to know a lot," said the German gloomily. "Did you come across from Rhodesia?"
"No: I came from Kigoma on the _Hedwig von Wissmann_."
"There are always misfortunes; we can’t win everything."
"I mean to say that the other Wissmann boat, the _Hermann von Wissmann_, allowed itself to be surprised at Sphinxhaven on Nyassa."
"And was captured? Really we must take that as a set-off against your defeat of our Navy--in the North Sea, I suppose. But to come back to Abercorn."
"You know as well as I do that we were beaten off. The English were four to one: what else could be expected?"
"I see! That explains why you have been ranging the country for recruits. But I understood that your forces in East Africa hopelessly outnumbered the British."
"So they do, but not everywhere. In the north we have cut the Uganda Railway, captured Mombasa and Nairobi, and are sweeping the English into the sea."
"Well, they’ll be quite at home there! It’s our native element, you know. These successes must console you for your failure at Abercorn: they’ll lighten your captivity, Sergeant."
"That is true," said the German, blind to irony. "And I shall not be your prisoner long."
"It was a trick. You would never have beaten me in fair fight; and the English, when they win at all, only win by trickery. Everybody knows that."
"Trickery, and superior numbers, as at Abercorn! Don’t you think the Kaiser had better throw up the sponge, then? It would save trouble."
The sergeant was so much horrified by the suggestion that he launched out into a violent denunciation of England and all things English, and painted a dismal picture of the dismembered British Empire. Tom let him run on: he had heard something like it in Germany, and had taken it then, as he took it now, as the raving of impotent envy. He would probably have listened to the German with less serenity had he known to what lengths the pitiless logic of militarism had carried the Kaiser’s helots on the stricken fields of Europe.
They were welcomed at the nullah with shouts of joy by the people, who had thronged behind the barricade and on the slopes. Astonishment sat on the faces of the Germans when they were admitted by the single gateway and marched up the nullah, past the trench, to the village growing by the lake.