The hauptmann was both sorry and glad on that account; sorry because he would automatically drop into a subordinate position when other German officers superior in rank came in with the column; glad, since there would be sufficient Europeans to overawe the iron-disciplined yet mutinous native troops.
The appearance of the German sergeant-major interrupted the hauptmann's reveries. Clicking his heels and stiffly saluting the veteran awaited his officer's permission to speak.
"Well, dolt?" enquired von Argerlich thickly.
"A scout has just reported that the Gwelba column has been sighted, Herr Hauptmann," announced the warrant officer. "The advance guard ought to be here within half an hour."
"It is well," replied the hauptmann, rising unsteadily. "Tell Lieutenant Muller to get the men under arms. Where's my sword? Hans, you black schweinhund, bring me my boots, and take care that there are no centipedes in them, or----"
Still grumbling the hauptmann buckled on his sword, donned his sun-helmet and boots and went out into the open space between the trench and the lines of low-built huts where the remnants of the 99th regiment--250 men out of a full strength of 1,200--were falling in.
Worn and weary the advance guard of the column limped into the camp, followed at regular intervals by the main body. With the latter was Oberst von Lindenfelt, the senior officer of the column, and another individual dressed in nondescript garments whose face seemed familiar to von Argerlich.
"Greetings, Max!" exclaimed von Lindenfelt. "Let us hope you have plenty of food. We are almost starving."
"Not much in that line, Herr Oberst," replied von Argerlich. "How have you fared?"
"Donnerwetter!" said the oberst vehemently. "Things have gone badly. It is indeed fortunate that we managed to find our way in. Had it not been for von Gobendorff here--you have met von Gobendorff before, I understand?"
"Der teufel!" ejaculated the hauptmann, grasping the hand of the motley-garbed man, "of course I have. Ulrich, ten thousand pardons, but in two years a man is apt to alter, especially in these strenuous times. Has anything happened that you have been compelled to drop your Scottish name? Let me think. Ach! I have it. MacGregor, was it not?"