Chapter Twenty Three.
“Il Faut Manger.”
I felt dizzy, and every movement was painful when I arose. The air was so cold that I was half-numbed; and in addition to my bruised side I ached from the tightness of my belts, and my sword-hilt and revolver seemed to have made great dents into my flesh. However, with an effort I lifted my rifle, which had been my bedfellow on the sandy earth, and hurriedly joined the others in making good the defence of the great gateway, with its newly-made protecting screen of stones.
There was no desperate encounter, however, to send the blood rushing through our veins; for, as we reached the entrance, we heard the men on duty removing stones while they carried on a desultory conversation with the new arrivals; and directly afterwards a thrill of joy ran through me, and a curious choking sensation rose in my throat, for somewhere in front where it was darkest I heard the Major say:
“That’s grand news, Denham—thirty of you, and forty horses?”
Then his voice was drowned in the loud, spontaneous cheer which rose from those about me, in which at the moment I felt too weak to join.
“Here, get in, all of you,” cried the Major as soon as he could make himself heard. “You’re sure there is no pursuit?”
“Quite,” came in Denham’s familiar voice. “We have had a very long round since we wore cut off, and have not heard a soul as we came through the darkness.”
“How about wounds?” said the Major.
“Pretty tidy, sir,” said Denham. “The poor horses have got the worst of it. But we’re all starving, and choked with thirst.”
“We can manage water for you,” said the Major; “but I’m afraid to say anything about food.”
“Never mind,” said Denham cheerfully; and then he seemed to turn away, for his voice sounded distant as he said—to the men with him, of course—“Tighten your belts another hole, lads. We’ll forage for food to-morrow.”
“That we will,” cried the Major; and then out of the darkness came the trampling of horses’ feet, followed by a few neighs, which were answered from where the horses stood together in the court. Meanwhile I tried to get to the front, but could not, and had to wait till the men began to file in after the homes; but at last I heard Denham’s voice again.
“Not a bad wound?” he said.
“A nasty but clean cut from some Boer who had one of our swords.”
“But tell me,” said Denham eagerly—“young Val Moray? Did he get in safely?”
“Any one would think he was a cousin or brother,” said the Major pettishly. “Yes, he managed all right, after giving up his horse to the Colonel and getting him in after he had been down.”
“Val did?” cried Denham eagerly. “I am glad!”
I did not wait to hear any more, and did not try to force my way through the dense pack of our men, but worked hard to get back to the spot where I had been lying down; and upon reaching it, with the satisfactory feeling that there was to be no more fighting that night, I dropped into my old place, after shifting hilt and belt so as not to lie upon them again. Then, in spite of hunger and pain, a comfortable and exhilarating sensation stole over me, which I did not know to be the approach of sleep till I was roused by the reveille, and sprang up in a sitting posture, when the first man my eyes fell on was Denham, who was peering about among the troopers as if for something he had lost.
“Oh, there you are!” he cried as he caught sight of me; and the next minute we were standing together, hand grasping hand.
“Denham, old fellow,” I said huskily, “I thought you were either a prisoner or dead.”
“Not a bit of it,” he replied; “but it wasn’t the Boers’ fault. Just look at my head.”
“I was looking,” I said, for a closely-folded handkerchief was tied diagonally across his forehead. “Is the cut deep?”
“Deep? No,” he replied. “Deep as the beast could make it—that is, to the bone. I say, what a blessing it is to have a thick skull! My old schoolmaster used to tell me I was a blockhead, and I thought he was wrong; but he was right enough, or I shouldn’t be here.”
“The loss is bad enough without that,” I replied.
“Horrible; but they’ve paid dearly for it,” he said. “But I say, what about rations? We can’t starve.”
I told him what I had overheard during the officers’ talk with the Sergeant.
“Yes,” said Denham peevishly; “but that means waiting till to-morrow morning. We must make a sally and get something.”
“I wish we could,” I said, for now that my mind was at rest I felt ravenously hungry. “Hullo! what’s going on there?”
Denham turned sharply, and, to our astonishment, Sergeant Briggs was coming from the gate leading half-a-dozen men stripped to shirt and breeches, carrying in half-quarters of some newly-killed animal.
“Why, hullo!” I cried, “what luck! They’ve found and been slaughtering an ox.”
“Yes,” said Denham dryly, “and there’s more meat out yonder. We shan’t starve. I’d forgotten.”
“Forgotten! Forgotten what?”
“It isn’t beef,” he said quietly. “It’s big antelope.”
“What! eland?” I cried joyously.
“No; the big, solid-hoofed antelope that eats like nylghau or quagga.”
“What do you mean?” I said wonderingly, as I mentally ran over all the varieties of antelope I had seen away on the veldt.
“The big sort with iron soles to their hoofs. Two poor brutes, bleeding to death, dropped about a hundred yards away as we came in last night.”
“Horse!” I exclaimed. “Ugh!”
“Oh yes, it’s all very well to say ‘Ugh!’ old proud stomach; but I feel ready to sit down to equine sirloin and enjoy it. Why shouldn’t horse be as good as ox or any of the antelopes of the veldt? You wouldn’t turn up your nose at any of them.”
“But horse!” I said. “It seems so—so—so—”
“So what? Oh, my grandmother! There isn’t a more dainty feeder than a horse. Why, he won’t even drink dirty water unless he’s pretty well choking with thirst. Horse? Why, I wouldn’t refuse a well-cooked bit of the toughest old moke that ever dragged a cart.”
“But what about fire?” I said.
“Oh, there’s plenty of stuff of one kind and another to get a fire together. They break up a box to start it, and then keep it going with bones and veldt fuel. Look; they’re coming in with a lot now.”
“I say,” I cried, as a sudden thought struck me. “Here, Sergeant!”
“What do you say?” cried Denham.
I said it to the Sergeant, proposing that he should make a roasting fire under the chimney of the old furnace; and as I spoke his face expanded into a genial smile.
“Splendid!” he said, and hurried away to shout to Joeboy; and in a very short time the smoke was rolling out of the top of the furnace chimney for probably the first time since the ancient race of miners ceased to smelt their gold-ore in the place marked on the maps of over a century ago as the Land of Ophir, but which has lain forgotten since, till our travellers rediscovered it within the last score of years.
Chapter Twenty Four.
A Very Wild Scheme.
“Well,” said Denham some two hours later, “it isn’t bad when a fellow’s hungry.”
“No,” I agreed, speaking a little dubiously; “but it would have been much better if we had not known what we were eating.” I did not hear any other opinions; for the men were ravenously hungry when the cooking was over, and we had all so many other things to think about.
It had been a very busy morning. Wounds had to be dressed, the uninjured had the task of strengthening the force upon the walls, and another party led the horses out a quarter of a mile to graze. This they were allowed to do in peace, the Boers paying no heed to the proceedings. Then the lookouts, who were furnished with the officers’ glasses, gave warning that strong parties were quietly on the move about a mile away—evidently making a circuit for the purpose of disarming our suspicions—with the intention of swooping round and cutting off the grazing horses. But, as Denham said, they had not all the cunning on their side, for we had taken our precautions. A red flag was hung out, and in answer to the signal the horses were headed in for the gateway at once.
That was sufficient. The Boers, instead of riding along across our position, suddenly swooped round, and came on, five hundred strong, at full gallop, getting so near that they would have cut off some of our valuable horses had not fire been opened upon them from the walls, quite in accordance with the Boers’ own tactics; our men lying down and taking deliberate aim, with the result that saddles were emptied and horses galloping riderless in all directions.
However, the party gradually came nearer, till they found that our firing grew hotter and more true; then, utterly discouraged by its deadly effect, they wheeled round again, and went off as hard as their horses could gallop.
“Let them try the same ruse again,” said the Colonel, as he turned from where he had limped to watch the little action, and stood closing his glass. “Let them come again if they like; but they had the worst of it this time. Splendidly done, my lads! Excellent!”
The Boers rode right away, then turned and rode back as if about to renew the attack; but suddenly they drew rein, and a small body came on at a canter, one of them waving a handkerchief.
“Yes,” said the Colonel sternly. “Hold your fire, my lads; they want to pick up their wounded.”
This was soon proved to be the case, and we looked on, thinking how much better their wounded fared than did ours.
“Yes,” said Denham when I said something of the kind to him; “but I hope they are behaving decently to our poor lads, wounded and prisoners. Let’s give them credit for a little humanity.”
The Colonel waited till the enemy had retired with their injured men, leaving a couple of dead horses on the plain. Already I could see that the carrion-birds had caught sight of the dead, and were winging their way to an anticipated feast; but they were disappointed, for the order had been given, and the horses were being led out again to graze, while four men, with strong raw-hide plaited reins attached to their saddles, rode out quickly to play the part of butchers to the beleaguered force, and shortly after came slowly back drawing a fresh supply of meat for the garrison. Then the vultures descended to clear away everything left.
“It makes one shudder,” said Denham to me as we sat perched upon a broken portion of the wall, resting after the previous day’s exertion, and nursing our rifles.
“Why?” I said, though I felt that I knew what he was about to say.
“Makes one think how it would be if one lay somewhere out on the veldt, dead and forgotten after a fight.”
“Bah! Don’t talk about it,” I cried.
“Can’t help it,” he replied. “It makes me want to practise my shooting upon those loathsome crows.”
“Why should you?” I replied. “They are only acting according to their nature, and— Hullo! Look yonder; what’s the matter with the baboons?”
Away to our left a loud chattering had begun amongst the ridges of ironstone and blocks of granite which formed the kopje. The drove, herd, flock, family, or whatever it was, of the dog-faced apes was running here and there, chattering, grimacing, and evidently in a great state of excitement. There were some five or six big fellows, evidently the leaders, and these kept on making rushes right down to the bottom of the stones, followed by others; while the females with their young, which they hugged to their sides in a curiously human way, kept back, partly in hiding, but evidently watching the males, and keeping up a chorus of chattering.
“Why, the beggars are going to attack our butchers.”
“Yes; but they think better of it,” I said, laughing; for the leaders of the troop turned back and began leaping up the hill again, but only to come charging down once more to the bottom of their little stony home, and stand chattering and grimacing menacingly.
“They’re hungry,” said Denham.
“Oh no, I don’t think they’d behave as badly as we do,” I replied. “I don’t think they’d eat horse.”
“What do they eat, then?”
“It always seemed to me when I’ve seen them that they ate fruit, nuts, and corn. There used to be a pack of them in a big kopje not far from our place, and they would come down and make raids upon the farm till we had to make it too hot for them with small-shot, and then they went right away.”
“They don’t like to see those horses dragged in,” replied Denham.
“Not used to it,” I said. “There, they are going back into hiding now.”
The horses had now been drawn in to be treated as if they were oxen, and in a few minutes not one of the baboons was to be seen. There were two or three alarms in the course of the day, but no direct attack; and the whole of the horses had a good long graze, the vegetation after the late rains being fairly abundant in places, though for the most part the veldt in the neighbourhood of the old fortress was very dry and bare. There was abundance of water, however, for a stone tied to the end of four reins carefully joined did not suffice to plumb the well-like hole.
That evening, as Denham and I sat playing the part of voluntary sentry, my companion lent me his glass to watch the distant troops of Boers, which I did diligently. We were seated on the top of the wall, for the simple reason that both of us were terribly stiff and bruised, and consequently extremely disinclined to stir. Then I uttered a loud exclamation.
“What’s the matter?” said Denham quickly.
“Take the glass,” I said; “the sloping sun lights up that part clearly. There, sight it upon the line below that flat-topped hill in the distance.”
“Yes,” he said, taking the glass and focussing it to suit. “What of it? Boers, Boers, hundreds of Boers.”
“But there’s something in motion.”
“Ah! Yes, I see now: one, two—why, there must be half-a-dozen ox-wagons with long teams.”
“What does that mean?” I said.
“Ox-wagons.”
“Yes; but what are they laden with?”
“I dunno,” he said, peering through the glass.
“Corn for the horses; provisions for the Boers’ camp.”
“Of course! Oh dear, if we could only get one of them across here!”
“Well, could it be done?” I said.
Denham shook his head.
“It could only be done in the dark. You mean stampede the bullocks; but they’d be outspanned at night, and we could never get them inspanned and away without being beaten off.—Can’t see it, Solomon the Wise.”
“It does seem difficult,” I assented.
“Yes; and, suppose we had got a team hitched on all right, see how they move: two miles an hour generally. But it does look tempting.”
“But we might get a team of oxen away without a wagon by making a bold dash.”
“Might,” replied Denham; “but bullocks are miserably obstinate brutes to drive. It would mean a good supply of beef, though—wouldn’t it?”
“Splendid.”
“Yes; but we want meal too. I say, I dare say there’s coffee and sugar in those wagons as well.”
“Most likely,” I said; “the Boers like eating and drinking.”
“The pigs! Yes, and we’re to starve. I say, couldn’t we make a bold night-attack and drive them away, compelling them to leave their stores?”
“Well, after last night’s experience I should say, ‘No; we could not,’” I replied.
“You’re quite right, Val,” said Denham, with a sigh. “Hullo! here’s your black Cupid come up to have a look at us.”
For Joeboy, whom a good hearty meal had made very shiny and happy-looking, came climbing up to where we sat, and stood looking down at us as if waiting for orders.
“Here, Joeboy,” I said; “look through this.”
“Um? Yes, Boss,” he said; and, from long usage when out hunting with my father or with me, he took the glass handily and sat down to scan the distant Boer line.
“Lot o’ Doppie,” he said in a low tone, as if talking to himself. “Lot o’ horse feeding; lot o’ wagon and bullock. Plenty mealie, coffee, sugar.”
“Yes, Joeboy,” I said; “and we want one of those wagons and teams.”
“Um? Yes, Boss,” he said thoughtfully, without taking his eyes from the glass. “Joeboy know how.”
“You do?” said Denham quickly. “Tell us, then.”
“Boss Colonel send Boss Val and hundred sojer fetch um.”
“It wouldn’t do, Joeboy,” I said sadly. “There would be another big fight, and we should lose a lot of men and horses without getting the wagon.”
“Um? Yes. Too many Doppie.”
“That’s right, Shiny,” said Denham.
“Yes,” I said; “we must wait till we see a team making for the kopje, and then the Colonel can send out a party and cut them off.”
“Then the Boer General will send out a bigger party and cut us off,” said Denham bitterly. “I don’t want another set-to like yesterday’s for a week or so. So we must take to horse and water for the present, I suppose.”
“Joeboy know,” said the black, with his eyes still fixed on the glass.
“You know?” I cried, staring at the black’s calm, imperturbable countenance.
“Um? Yes.”
“Why, what could be done?” I said, excited by the black’s cool and confident way, knowing as I did from old experience how full of ingenuity the brave fellow was.
“Um?” he said thoughtfully, as he still watched the Boer lines. “No good to fight; Doppie too many.”
“Yes,” said Denham impatiently. “You said so before.”
“Um?” said Joeboy, taking his eyes from the glass a moment or two to glance at the speaker, but turning away and raising the glass again; “Joeboy know.”
“Let’s have it, then,” said Denham, “for hang me if I can see how it could be done.”
“Big fool black fellow drive wagon,” said Joeboy, still gazing through the glass, as if he could see those of whom he spoke. “’Nother big fool black fellow vorloper. Both fast sleep under wagon. Boss Val talk like Boer: double-Dutch.”
“Is that right?” said Denham.
“Oh yes,” I said. “I can speak like a Boer if it is necessary.”
“Um? Yes,” said Joeboy quietly. “Think Doppie talky, Boss Val take Joeboy and go in a dark night up to wagon. Stoop down and kick big black fool driver and big black fool vorloper. ‘Get up!’ he say. ‘Want sleep alway? Get up, big fool! Trek!’”
“What?” I cried excitedly.
“Um? Talk like Doppie, Boss Val talk. Big fool get up an’ inspan. Boss Val get up on box an’ keep call driver big black fool, like Doppie. Joeboy walk ’long o’ vorloper. Tell ’im Joeboy ’tick assagai in um back if he talk, and drive right ’way.”
“Ha!” I said, with a heavy expiration of the breath. “But do you understand what he means?”
“Oh yes, I understand,” said Denham, laughing; “but where are the Doppies going to be all the while?”
“Lying somewhere about, of course, asleep,” I said excitedly; “but there would be no sentries over the wagons; and, as he says, the black foreloper and driver would be sleeping underneath.”
“Oh, that’s right enough,” said Denham impatiently. “But the noise, the rattle of the wagon, the getting of the oxen, and all the rest of it?”
“The oxen would be all lying down with the trek-rope between them, and they’ll quietly do what their black driver and foreloper wish. I think it could be done.”
“My dear boy, it’s madness.”
“It isn’t,” I said angrily. “Joeboy is right, and a trick like this would perhaps succeed when force would fail. We must capture one of those wagons.”
“Oh, I’d have the lot while I was about it,” cried Denham, laughing.
“Be sensible,” I cried pettishly. “Joeboy is right. Can’t you see that it is the sheer impudence of the thing that would carry it through?”
“No, old chap,” he replied; “that I can’t.”
“Well, I can,” I said firmly. “The black driver and foreloper could be roused out of their sleep, and they take it as a matter of course that they were to drive the wagon somewhere else, and obey at once, especially if they are hurried by some one who speaks like a Boer.”
“Well, I grant that’s possible,” said Denham; “but what about the Boer sentries and outposts? They’d stop you before you’d gone straight away for a hundred yards.”
“I shouldn’t go straight away,” I said, “but along by the front; and if we were stopped, Joeboy could tell the outpost we were ordered to change position—to go on to the other end of the line. What would the outpost care or think about it? All he would think would be that a wagon-load of stores was being shifted, and let us pass. Then I should tell Joeboy to begin creeping out towards the east yonder, and keep on till we were out of bearing before striking away for the kopje here. Once we had got clear off we could keep steadily on all through the night, and at daybreak you would be watching for us, and send out a detachment to bring us in.”
“Splendid, my boy—in theory,” said Denham; “but it would not work out in practice.”
“Think not?”
“A hundred to one it wouldn’t,” cried Denham firmly.
“Well, I think it would,” I said—“and from the cool daring of the thing.”
“And what about your horse? That would be enough to betray you.”
“No take Sandho,” said Joeboy, who had been listening attentively.
“Of course not,” I said. “We should walk right across to the Boer lines, getting off as soon as it was dark.”
“Why not go in disguise as a minstrel?” said Denham banteringly—“like King Alfred did when he went to see about the Danes? Have you got a harp, old chap?”
“No,” I said coolly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, because I don’t believe you could play it. But a banjo would be better for the Doppies, or—I have it—an accordion! Haven’t one in your pocket, I suppose?”
“Why can’t you be serious?” I said.
“I am, old fellow. Banjo, concertina, or accordion, either would do; and if you could sing them one or two of their popular Dutch songs it would be the very thing.”
“Don’t banter,” I said dryly.
“Then don’t you propose impossibilities. There, they are cooking supper again, so let’s get down and see about a bit of—ahem! you know. Whatever it is, we must eat. I almost wish I were a horse, though, and could go out on the veldt and browse on the herbage. Here, I say, I’ve got a far better Utopian scheme than yours.”
“What is it?” I replied quietly, for I felt that he was going to chaff me.
“Well,” he said, “it’s this. You know how imitative monkeys are?”
I nodded.
“Then all we have to do is to make a ring of our men round the kopje there, and drive the baboons into the court here. From the court we could turn them into one of the passages between the walls, stop up the ends, and capture the lot.”
“To eat?” I said sarcastically.
“Eat, man? No; to drill, and teach them to forage for us, just as the Malays teach the monkeys to pick coco-nuts for them.”
“Drill them? Ah! there is a baboon called a ‘drill.’ Yes, go on,” I said.
“We could send them out every night, and they’d come back laden with mealies for us; and there you are.”
“Nice evening, gentlemen,” said Sergeant Briggs, who had just climbed to our side. “I’ve been using the Major’s glass. My word! they’ve got wagon after wagon loaded with stores across yonder. Is there any way of cutting out one or two, for we must not go on living upon horse?”
I looked hard at the speaker, and then at Denham, and the result was that we astonished the Sergeant, for both Denham and I burst out laughing, and Joeboy smiled as widely as he could.
Chapter Twenty Five.
A Forlorn-Hope for Food.
Sergeant Briggs stared, and looked so puzzled that we laughed the more.
“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” he said, speaking as if huffed, “have I said something stoopid?”
“Tell him, Val,” cried Denham; and I explained why we laughed.
“Oh, I see,” he said good-humouredly. “I thought I was being laughed at. Well, I don’t know, Mr Denham, sir; I don’t think the idee’s quite so wild as you fancy.”
“Oh, it’s impossible, Sergeant.”
“No, sir, begging your pardon, it isn’t. It’s the cheek of the thing might carry it off. I like it.”
“Yes; your mouth waters for the stores, Sergeant.”
“Maybe, sir; but if I was you I should go straight to the Colonel and tell him.”
“So as to be laughed at for a fool,” said Denham. “The chief’s in no laughing humour, sir,” said the Sergeant stolidly. “He ought to be in hospital with that cut on the leg he got; but he won’t give up, though I’ve seen him turn whitey-brown and come out all over the face with big drops. That means pain. No; he won’t laugh.”
“Then he’ll growl at us, and tell us to be off for a pair of idiots.”
“Well, I’ll risk it,” I said firmly.
“Will you? Young fellow,” cried Denham, “don’t you presume on my friendliness and forget that you’re a private in my troop.”
“It’s my duty to let the Colonel know,” I said warmly.
“Yes, through your superior officer. Well, look here; perhaps you’re right. Let’s go to him at once.”
We descended after another look at the Boer lines, and found the Colonel resting against a block of granite, with his injured leg lying in a bed of sand. He listened attentively, after Denham’s introduction, to all I had to say. Then he sat in perfect silence, frowning, and tugging at his long moustache. I was as uncomfortable as ever I had been, and wished I had not come; but soon a change came over me, for the Colonel spoke.
“Capital,” he said sharply. “But—”
My hopes went down to zero again, but rose as he went on, taking the right line of thought: “It can only be done by sheer bravado. It is the utter recklessness of the ruse that would carry it through. Do you think, Moray, you could do this without breaking down at the supreme moment?”
“I think so, sir.”
“That’s good,” said the Colonel; “there’s a frank modesty about that ‘think.’ But do you dare to run the risk for the sake of your officers and brother-privates, who are in a very tight place?”
“I don’t think now, sir,” I said: “I dare go.”
“Then you shall, Moray.”
“To-night, sir?”
“No: have a night’s sleep and a quiet day to-morrow to think out your plans. You will be fresher then. There, I’m in pain, and I want a few hours’ rest to set me up. One minute,” he added as I turned to go. “How many know about this?”
“Only Sergeant Briggs, sir, and the black, of course.”
“Keep the black quiet,” said the Colonel, “and tell Sergeant Briggs from me that the expedition is to be kept secret.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are not to go on sentry work to-night.”
I saluted, and went away with Denham, who began to growl:
“The chief’s as cracked over it as you are. But, look here, Val, you must alter your plans.”
“I can’t,” I replied. “I shall go.”
“Of course you will; but you must reshape them so as to take me with you.”
“That’s impossible,” I replied. “But would you go?”
“Would I go? Of course. I should like the fun of it. Here, you must go and tell the chief you feel as if you can’t curry out the business properly unless you have my help.”
I looked at him, laughing.
“I say, who’s cracked now?” I said.
“Well, I believe I am—half,” he replied. “I say, Val, I would like to go with you.”
“What! upon such a mad expedition?” I said.
“Yes. It doesn’t look so mad when you come to think a little more about it. Look here; I know. I’ll go as a Dutch driver.”
“You’ll stop along with your troop, and I’ll ask the chief to let you come to my help in the morning when we’re coming along with the wagon—if—if we carry it off.”
Denham was silent for a few moments before he said any more. Then, with a sigh:
“Yes, you might do that; but I should have liked to be in the thick of the business.”
Many of the men went hungry to bed that night, and Denham and I lay talking for long enough before sleep came; but when it did, nothing could have been more restful and refreshing.
We rose at the “Wake up” to find that there had been no alarm in the night, and our first act was to climb to the top of the wall and use a glass, to see that the Boers wore in the same positions, and the outposts were just riding in, so that I had some insight as to the way in which the enemy guarded their front during the night.
“Here, I say, look!” cried Denham suddenly. “You ought to have gone last night.”
“Why?” I asked as I took the glass; and then, “Oh!” I exclaimed in a tone of disappointment.
“Yes, you may well groan,” cried my companion. “Why didn’t the chief let you go?”
There was good reason. We could see plainly enough that the Boers were unloading the wagons, and the Kaffirs hard at work carrying bags which no doubt contained mealies or flour. To me the sight was maddening, for it now seemed one of the easiest things in the world for us to have captured and carried off one of the laden wagons.
“There, it’s of no use to cry after spilt milk,” said Denham, with a groan.
“Nor is it of any use to despair,” I replied as I watched the unloading. “Perhaps they may leave one of the wagons full.”
“Oh, they will, of course!” said Denham mockingly. “They’ll pick out the best one, containing a nice assortment, and label it, ‘Reserved for the use of the Natal Light Horse. To wait until called for by Don Quixoto Valentino Morayo and his henchman Sancho Panzo Joeboyo.’ I never thought of that.”
“Let’s go and report what we have seen,” I said bitterly; and we went and found the Colonel.
“Humph!” he said shortly; “unfortunate.” That was all.
Then the day glided by, with our men always on the alert, their only work being to man the walls and keep a sharp lookout while the horses were driven out to graze; but though the Boers showed in force in different directions, they made no attack. In spite of a false alarm or two, the poor brutes managed to pick up a pretty good feed; though, considering the work they had to do, it was poor and unsustaining as compared to corn.
As for the men, they made the best of things; but several knots gathered together trying to allay the desire for different food by the agency of their pipes. However, instead of endeavouring to get accustomed to the food pretty plentifully prepared for their meals—other two horses having to be shot on account of their wounds—some of the men preferred to fast; and it was these men who discussed the probability of the Colonel making a dash again that night, to cut a way through and escape.
Sergeant Briggs favoured this idea.
“I hope the chief will make another try to-night,” he said to Denham and me. “The Boers mean to starve us out; and in another day or two all the fight will be gone out of the poor lads.”
However, the sun often peeps out on the cloudiest days; and towards evening, just when we were feeling most despondent, Joeboy came up to Denham and me just as we were going up to our old place of observation, glass in hand. As we mounted, it was to see the horses led in, with the guard behind them; the lines of the enemy being descried very distinctly in the horizontal rays of the low-down sun. Denham was using the glass and making comments the while.
“There’s a famous great gap out yonder,” he said, “just to the right of where we saw those unlucky wagons, Val. I will just go and tell some one. The enemy will not be likely to fill it up; and I believe we might go softly that way and make a dash through.—Oh, you disgusting, sybaritish, gluttonous brutes! I always did think the Boers were pigs at eating. Look at their fires all along their lines. Here are we starving, and they’re doing nothing but cook and eat—eat—eat.”
I took the glass and looked at the opening he had noticed, but said nothing, remembering how terrible was our experience on the previous occasion. I saw too—as enviously as my companion, but in silence—how the fires were sending up their clouds of smoke in the clear, calm air all along the line, telling of preparations for the coming meal.
“The empty wagons are gone,” I said at last.
“If you say wagon again I shan’t be able to contain myself,” cried Denham passionately. “I don’t want to kick you, Val; but I shall be obliged. Look here, if I feel as bad to-morrow evening as I do now, I’ll mount and desert to the Boer ranks.”
“Not you,” I said.
“But I will, just for the sake of eating as much as ever I can. Then I’ll desert again and join our own ranks.”
“Why, Denham—” I exclaimed excitedly, and then I was silent.
“Why, Denham—” he replied.
“Wait a minute,” I cried; “let me make sure.”
“Sure of what?” he said, growing excited in turn on hearing the elation in my voice.
“Wagons!” I cried.
“Ah, would you?” he shouted. “Didn’t I say that if you spoke of wagons again—”
“One—two—three—four—five—six!” I cried, with the glasses to my eyes. “Hurrah! There’s a fresh lot coming into camp, right into that opening you saw. Be quiet and let me watch”—for Denham had given me such a slap between the shoulders that I nearly dropped the glass.
“Say it again, old man—say it again.”
“There’s no need,” I replied. “Yes, I can make them out quite plainly—six wagons, with their long teams of oxen and black drivers and forelopers. You can see the black bodies and white cloths.”
“I don’t want to see them,” cried Denham wildly. “I’ll take your word. Six teams of oxen!—that’s all beef. Six wagons!—that means bread. There, you be off and tell the Colonel you’re going to start; and I’ll see about the troop that’s to follow and bring you in. I say, pick out a wagon of meal; not one of mealies. I don’t know, though. Couldn’t you bring both?”
“There’s plenty of time,” I said.
“Time? The Colonel ought to know by now. Here, give me that glass.”
“Be quiet,” I said, angry with excitement. “I want to watch and make sure where the wagons are drawn up.”
Denham ceased speaking, and during the next half-hour I watched till I had seen tin; six wagons drawn up pretty close together, and their black drivers moving about attending to the oxen; now all grew faint and indistinct, then completely faded out of sight; not, however, until I had made up my mind that I could go straight away from the old fort and find the place, though there were minutes when the task in the dark seemed impossible.
Turning to Joeboy, who had twice looked through the glass, I asked:
“Do you think we could find those wagons in the dark?”
“Um? Joeboy could,” he replied promptly. “Go right straight.”
I breathed more freely then, and suggested to Denham that I should go and report to the Colonel what I had seen.
“Yes; at once,” he said. “Come along; and I want to have command of one of the troops sent out to bring you in.”
We had commenced the descent when Denham stopped me.
“Look here,” he said; “I have a good thought. We ought to arrange some signal to let me know your whereabouts when you are returning with the wagon.”
“I haven’t got it yet,” I said.
“No, but you’re going to get it,” he said confidently; “and I want to be able to come to you with fifty men, and to make sure of bringing you in. Now then, what will your signal be? Because, if I hear it out on the veldt we can ride straight off to you. Can you yell like a hyena?”
“No,” I said promptly. “Joeboy can.”
“Wouldn’t do,” said my companion, upon second thoughts. “Those beasts are singing all over the place sometimes, and they might lead us wrong.”
“So would the cry of any animal.”
“Yes,” said Denham thoughtfully. “I don’t know, though. Here, can you suggest something?”
“I can’t do it; but Joeboy can roar like a lion splendidly.”
“Wouldn’t that scare and stampede the bullocks?”
“Oh no,” I said; “the cry would cheat the Boers, perhaps; the bullocks would know better—wouldn’t they, Joeboy?”
“Um? Big trek-ox laugh, and say ‘Gammon,’” replied the black, showing his glistening teeth.
“Very well, then; when you are getting within earshot let Joeboy give three roars half-a-minute apart.”
“Right,” I said.—“You understand, Joeboy?”
“Um? Yes, Boss Val.”
“Here, give us a specimen,” said Denham. “Don’t make a bully row. Just roar gently so that I shall know it again.”
Joeboy dropped upon his hands and knees, placed his lips close to the surface of the wall, and a low, deep, thunderous roar seemed to make the air quiver and shudder. Directly afterwards there was an excited stamping and neighing amongst the horses.
“That’ll do splendid,” whispered my companion. “Three times, mind. Hark! they’re talking about it all over the place. There’ll be an alarm directly about a lion getting into the laager.”
By the time we had reached the spot where the officers made their bare, unsheltered camp, the alarm had already died away; and, after being challenged, we had leave to advance.
The Colonel heard what we had to say in silence, and then remained for a minute or two without speaking.
“It is a very risky and daring business, Moray, my lad,” he said; “but we are in a desperate strait. I did mean to make another dash for liberty to-night; but since this piece of good fortune has turned up I’ll wait twenty-four hours and see what you do. If you succeed I promise you that—”
“Please don’t promise me anything, sir,” I said quickly. “Let me go and try my best. If I fail—”
“And the Boers take you prisoner,” said the Colonel quickly, “I shall, like every one in the corps, thank you all the same for a very dashing and plucky venture.—As for you, Denham; yes, certainly. Take fifty men, and go out to meet him and bring him in. You need not, of course, start till well on towards morning; and when you are gone I shall order out nearly all the rest of the force to your support, so as to bring you all in, if you are pressed.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said eagerly; but Denham replied in rather a grumpy tone, for he was all on fire to begin doing something almost at once.
“Then I may start when I like, sir?”
“Certainly, my lad. Of course you will take your rifle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take two revolvers instead of one. You may want them at a pinch; but you must depend upon scheming in this, and not on strength. By the way, there are a few biscuits in my haversack; you can take them.”
“Oh no, sir—” I began; but he interrupted me.
“Take them,” he said shortly, and in a way that meant a command; but I compromised the matter with my conscience by only taking half.
I now left the Colonel’s quarters with Denham and Joeboy, and only waited till it was as dark as it seemed likely to be before having a few final words with my companion and Briggs, who were the only men in the secret of what was about to be undertaken. Then, filling my water-bottle and placing the biscuits in my pocket—after Denham had refused a share—I saw that my bandolier was quite full of cartridges, slung my rifle, and placed one revolver in its holster-pocket and thrust the other in my breast. We now walked towards the well-barricaded gateway, gave the word, and Joeboy and I stepped out, with Denham and Briggs; but stopped to shake hands with Denham, who held mine tightly.
“Good luck to you, Val, lad!” he said softly. “Don’t take any notice of what I said before—I mean of all that cold water I poured on your scheme. It’s splendid. Go in and win; and when you’re half-way back, or if you’re pursued, make old Joeboy fill his bellows and roar. I’ll come to your help, even if there’s a thousand Doppies after you.”
“I know you will,” I said warmly as I returned the pressure of his hand. “There, good-bye.”
“Good-bye, old boy! You’ll do it. Oh! I wish I were coming too.”
“Good-bye, Mr Private Moray,” said Briggs softly, in his deep tones. “I wish you everything in the way of luck. You’ll do it, my lad, I know.—Here, Joeboy, you stick to your boss.”
“Um! Me stick to Boss Val—um!—alway.”
“Good-bye,” I said again, trying to free my hands, for Denham and the Sergeant each held one tightly and in silence.
At last, as we stood there in the darkness, they let my fingers slip through theirs, and I stepped out into the open, following Joeboy’s steps, for he at once took the lead, without making a sound.
“Ah!” I said to myself, after drawing a very long breath, “this is going to be the most exciting thing I ever did.”
Chapter Twenty Six.
Successful Beyond Expectation.
“Boss Val come close up to Joeboy,” said the black a minute or two later.
I had but to take two steps, and then I could touch the speaker, who was standing with his back towards me.
“Joeboy no turn round,” he said. “Boss Val keep close. Joeboy got to keep seeing wagons, and not lose them.”
“But you can’t see the wagons now,” I said softly.
“Um? Joeboy see um inside um head. Can’t see with eyes. Too far away. But Joeboy know jus’ where they are, and feel see um. Come along and no talk. Take hold, and no let go.”
I grasped the long handle of Joeboy’s assagai, which had touched me lightly on the side as he spoke; so there was no chance of our being separated in the dark and having to call to each other with probably Boer outposts within hearing. The plunge had been made, and now I began to see how terrible was the responsibility I had undertaken. For a few minutes after leaving our friends I began to ask myself whether Denham had not been right in calling it a mad project; but these thoughts soon passed away as I pulled myself together with the determination to do what my friends had told me: “Go in and win.” There was too much to do and too much excitement now to leave room for hesitation and thoughts about risk and chances of discovery. Joeboy, too, was a splendid fellow for a companion: he went steadily on as if the whole business was some exciting game in which he played the chief part.
Fortune seemed to be favouring us so far as the weather was concerned, for a brisk wind was blowing, and the clouds overhead veiled every star; so the night was profoundly dark.
After tramping on for about ten minutes, Joeboy stopped and stood motionless; then he whispered to me to come close up, without turning his head when he spoke.
“Boss Val lissum with both ears,” he said. “Tell Joeboy when he hear Doppie. Joeboy tell Boss Val too.”
“Right,” I said; and we went on again so silently that I did not hear my own footsteps in the sandy earth.
There was no risk of meeting with any impediment, for the veldt from the old fortress right away to the place where I had marked down the wagons was a smooth, undulating plain. What we had to dread was coming across a Boer outpost or patrol; but I had little fear of that without ample warning, for I had had frequent experience in hunting expeditions of the keenness of Joeboy’s senses of sight and hearing. I was just beginning to wonder how long it would be before he gave me warning of any danger being near, when he stopped short again. I closed up so that I could lay my hands upon his shoulders. Then he whispered very softly:
“Hear Doppie soon. Boss Val go down when Joeboy kneel.”
“Right,” I said again, straining my eyes right and left to get sight of the Boer camp; and, though I judged that their fires would be all out, I expected to get a glimpse before long of one of their lanterns. All, however, remained dark, and the time dragged slowly in the same monotonous way, making me wish I could walk side by side with my companion, who seemed to be far more cautious in the darkness than I thought necessary.
We must have gone, as I hoped in a perfectly straight direction, for what appeared to be nearly an hour, and I was getting desperate about our slow progress, when suddenly the assagai-shaft was jigged sharply and then dragged; and for a moment I saw a faint spark of light far ahead, due to the fact that Joeboy had gone down suddenly upon hands and knees. I followed suit, and lay flat, listening, but only hearing my heart throbbing slowly and heavily. Not a sound was to be heard for fully half-a-minute; and then came the familiar click of iron against iron, caused, as I well knew, by a horse champing at his bit and moving the curb-chain. Directly after there was the dull thud, thud of horses’ hoofs coming from our right, and I knew that mounted men were approaching us at right angles to our course, and thought we must be discovered the next minute or else trampled on by the horses.
For a moment or two my heart seemed to stand still and then to go at a gallop, for the horses came nearer and nearer; and I tried to press myself closer and closer to the sand as one horse passed within two or three yards of my feet, and another a little way in front.
I could hardly believe the men had gone by without seeing us, though I had not seen them, and still crouched down, expecting to hear the riders turn and come back. Hence it was like a surprise when I heard a faint rustling which indicated that Joeboy was getting up; and, warned by a jerk of the spear-shaft, I sprang up too.
“All ride by,” said the black; and I realised now that a patrol must have passed, with the men riding two or three horse-lengths apart to keep guard against any surprise parties of our troop.
We went on again for a short distance, and then there was another stoppage; for from the front came the murmur of voices talking in a low tone, suggestive of a little outpost in front.
Joeboy made a brief halt, and then we went down on hands and knees, and crawled to the right for about fifty yards before turning again in the direction of the wagons; and this movement was kept up for quite a hundred yards; then the black rose to his foot, and our walk recommenced.
We must now, I thought, have kept on for above an hour, though I dare say it was not more than half that time; but I fully believed it was nearer three hours than two after we had left the fort when Joeboy suddenly dropped down flat; and, as I followed his example, he backed himself, walking quadrupedally on his hands and toes till he was able to subside close to where I lay on my face.
“Boss Val tired?” he whispered. “Um?”
“Not a bit,” I replied. “Are we near the wagons?”
“Um? Done know,” he replied. “Close by Doppie. All quiet. Fas’ asleep. Lissum.”
I listened, and all was very still. Now and then from a distance came a faint squeal and a stamp from some horse; but there was no talking going on, and it was hardly possible there in the darkness to conceive that probably a thousand men were lying near at hand, spread out to right and left, and ready at a call to spring up, mount, and dash across the plain.
“I can hear nothing,” I replied at last, with my lips close to his ear. “Think they are gone, Joeboy?”
“Um? Gone?” he whispered back. “Gone ’sleep. Joeboy going to look for wagons.”
“Stop a moment,” I whispered. “Are you going to leave me here?”
“Um? Boss Val lie still and have good rest. Joeboy come back soon.”
“But do you think you can find me again?” I said.
He put his lips close to my ear again and laughed softly.
“Um? Oh yes, Joeboy find um sure enough. See a lot in the dark. Boss Val lie quite still.”
Before I could remonstrate against a plan which, it seemed to me, might, ruin our expedition, he had crept away; and from the direction he took I knew he had gone off to the left, going quite fast, and progressing in a style which, in old days, I had often laughingly said was like that of the crocodiles of the Limpopo. This time I did not hear him make a sound, and I could, of course, do nothing but lie still, feeling in my utter misery that all was over, and that I could only lie there till near daybreak, waiting to be found again by Joeboy, and waiting in vain. Then I would have to run the gauntlet of the outposts, and make a desperate effort to return, shamefaced and miserable, to the camp.
I tried hard to fix my attention on listening and endeavouring to make out how near I was to the Boer lines; but I could not hear a sound. Again and again I fretted at my miserable position as the time glided away and there was no sign of Joeboy.
“I should have stopped him,” I reflected. “I ought not to have let him take the lead.”
Just then, however, my heart seemed to give a great jump; for without a sound the black was alongside again, touching my leg, and then gliding up till his lips were level with my ear.
“Boss Val ’sleep—um?”
“Asleep!” I whispered back indignantly. “No.”
“Um!” he whispered. “Joeboy been very long way. No wagon there. Now go this way.”
“No, no!” I whispered back. “You must stay with me, or we must go together, Joeboy!”
There was no reply, and in alarm I stretched out my left hand to seize hold of him; but he had gone. I half-fancied I heard a faint rustle some distance off as of a great serpent gliding across in front of my head; but I dared not raise my voice to stop him. Now I realised that he must have glided away from me the moment he had uttered the words “this way;” and again I had to go through all that agony of expectation and dread. Still, I began to feel a little more confidence in Joeboy, and for the next half-hour I waited anxiously, hoping against hope, till I was in despair and half-mad.
I was just at my worst again, and picturing the looks of Denham, and his disappointment if I managed to get anywhere near where he was on the lookout for us, when I jumped violently, quite startled, for Joeboy seemed to rise out of the black earth on my light.
“Um?” he said softly. “Joeboy getting tired. Couldn’t find wagon.”
“Then it’s all over?” I whispered, my heart sinking with despair.
“Um? Couldn’t find at first,” he said. “Joeboy went behind um. All out before Doppies.”
“Then you did find them?” I whispered joyfully.
“Um? Yes, Joeboy find um. Went long way and then come back.”
“But how did you manage to find them in the dark?”
“Um? Smell um,” he said quietly. “Now, wait bit. Boss Val know what to say?”
“Oh yes, I know,” I said.
“Get up,” he whispered. “No Doppie here.”
I was startled by his words, but I obeyed; and as soon as I was erect I felt his hands about me, feeling whether my rifle was slung across my shoulder, my bandolier in place, and my revolvers ready. Apparently satisfied, he gave a grunt, and taking my hand, he whispered again:
“No Doppie here. Over this way and that way.”
I yielded to his guidance, with my heart throbbing heavily now; but the feeling of excitement returned as I began to act, and in a few minutes I found that something big and dark had loomed up in front, which I knew to be a great tilted wagon.
Joeboy bore to the left, and we walked silently on together till we had passed the rears of six of the great vehicles drawn up at a fair distance apart, but pretty regularly side by side. I now realised that, though the wagons, as seen through the glass, had appeared to be in touch with the Boer troops, they really formed a line some distance in front.
From that moment everything seemed to be like a curious waking dream, in which I was the chief actor; for, passing the last tail and going forward, I walked with Joeboy to the front, all being silent about the wagons. From beyond these came the peculiarly soft, chewing sound of working jaws; and I made out, partly by hearing and partly by the peculiar but not unpleasant odour, that there were the teams in their places, all the great oxen crouching down, from the pair on either side of the dissel-boom or pole to the foremost couple right in front, pair after pair, along the trek-tow—that is, the great rope which, for the team, serves as a continuation of the pole.
“Um?” whispered Joeboy as I stood listening to the dull cud-chewing of the resting beasts. “Now make um come out.”
I hesitated for a moment or two; then I made the great effort to play my part as I felt it ought to be acted, and stood alongside the black and close up to the wagon, between the wheels. Then taking a long breath, and wondering at myself the while, I stooped down so that my voice might go well beneath; but paused as I was about to speak, for I could hear in duplicate a deep guttural snore. At that moment Joeboy pinched my arm; and, drawing a deep breath, I growled out in the best imitation I could of the Boer Dutch:
“Now then; rouse up, you lazy black beggars! Rouse up and trek!”
My heart sank as the last word passed my lips.
“Suppose they are not Kaffirs?” I thought.
There was not a sound, and Joeboy again pinched my arm.
I knew what he wanted; so, raising my voice, I said hoarsely, and in an angry tone:
“Rouse up! Trek!”
There was a loud rattling noise at the same moment, for Joeboy had reached under the wagon to strike here and there with the shaft of his assagai.
In an instant, following a dull thud or two, there came low remonstrant growls, there was a scuffle and a rush, and two big figures rose near us; one Kaffir ran towards the front box of the wagon, and the feet of the other went pat, pat till he stopped by the foremost pair of oxen in the team. Then the great beasts began to get upon their feet and shake themselves.
“It’s all over now,” I thought, as I stood appalled by the noise made by the bullocks, one of them lowing loudly; and, as if my despair was not deep enough, I found from what I could hear that I had fired a train, started a conflagration, or—to use another simile—touched one end of a row of card houses and set all in motion. The action of rousing up the blacks asleep beneath this one had communicated itself from wagon to wagon on to the end. “Open sesame!” caused the cave of the Forty Thieves to open; the magic word “Trek!” had started the wagon-drivers and forelopers; and now I expected the next thing would be a rush of Boer cavalry to surround us, unless Joeboy and I could hide.
“Yah! hor! whoo-oop! Trek!” cried Joeboy in his hoarsest voice, and he ran from me towards the foreloper, leaving me half-stunned at the turn matters had taken.
“Trek!” cried the black, who had climbed on to the box; then there was a tremendous crack of the huge whip he wielded, the oxen jerked at the trek-tow, the wheels creaked, and as I involuntarily took my rifle from where it was slung and cocked it, the huge wagon began to lumber heavily through the soft earth, and I walked by its side uninterrupted, finding that in turn first one and then another of the six wagons started and followed, till the entire row were in motion, following the lead of Joeboy with the first foreloper, the whole business growing, in the darkness, more and more like a feverish dream.