"Charge!" (continued 3)

“Because I feel too excited to sleep,” I replied.

“Humph! Yes, it has been warm work,” said the sentry; “but I suppose we shall get used to it. I’m excited; but I feel as if I’d give anything to lie down for an hour.”

“Well, lie down,” I said. “I’ll keep watch for you.”

“You will?” he said joyfully. “No, no; I’m not going to break down like that. Don’t say any more about it. It’s like tempting a man. Here, I say,” he whispered eagerly, “how quiet they are! You don’t think they’re going to make a night attack—do you?”

“No,” I said; “it’s not likely. What good could they do when they couldn’t see to shoot?”

“None, of course. It’s not as if they were soldiers with bayonets. The only thing they could do would be to stampede the horses.”

“What!” I whispered excitedly. “Oh, I say, don’t talk like that.”

“Only a bit of an idea that came into my head. Don’t see anything—do you?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “It’s dark; but there’s a curious transparent look about the night, and I think we should see any one directly if he were advancing.”

“How? I don’t see that’s at all likely.”

“If any one passed along it would be like a shadow crossing the grey stones. They look quite grey in the starlight.”

“Well, yes, they do,” he said; “and—I say, what’s that?”

He pointed towards the Boers’ camp-fires, and, startled by his tone, I looked eagerly in the direction pointed out; but there were the piles of grey stones looking dull and shadowy, but no sign to me of anything else.

“Fancy,” I said.

“No. Just as you spoke I saw something dark go across one of the stones. Shall I fire?”

“Certainly not. It would be alarming every one for nothing. We talked about seeing things pass the grey stones, and that made you think you saw some one.”

“Perhaps so,” he said thoughtfully. “Anyhow, there’s nothing here now. I say, that seems to have woke me up.”

“It would,” I said; and then I crouched a little lower, shading my eyes from the starlight and keenly sweeping the chaotic wilderness of rocks again and again, but seeing nothing.

I heard, though, the steps of the sentry away to my left, and soon after a faint cough to my right sounded quite loudly.

“It wouldn’t have done for you to have gone to sleep with me taking your place, for I suppose some officer will be visiting the posts before very long, and then you’d have been found out if I hadn’t woke you in time.”

I said this in a low tone not much above a whisper, in case any one was going the rounds; but he did not take any notice.

“It wouldn’t have done, you know,” I said.

There was a low, heavy sighing breath, which made me start in wonder, and then turn towards my companion, to find that his rifle was resting against the stone, and that he had sunk sidewise against another and was fast asleep.

“Completely fagged out,” I said to myself, with a feeling of pity for him. “He did fight bravely against it; but the drowsiness was too much for him.”

One moment I felt ready to take hold of his arm and shake him, but I did not. I was there with his rifle ready to my hand, and if I kept his watch, perhaps only for a few minutes, he would wake up again, refreshed and better able to keep it till he was relieved.

“It often is so,” I said to myself. “One drops asleep after dinner, and then wakes up ready to go for any length of time. It’s being a good comrade to the poor fellow,” I thought; and, picking up his rifle, I took over his duty just as if it were my own, keeping my eyes wandering over the dark grey stones in front, and sweeping the whole space. Then my breath suddenly felt as if checked in my surprise, for about thirty yards away, as near as I could guess, there was a dark shadow passing one of the great blocks.

“Fancy,” I said to myself as soon as I could recover from my surprise; and, treating myself as I had treated my fellow-trooper, I mentally declared I had thought about it till I seemed to see it.

“It’s all imagination,” I said again; and then I lowered the rifle I held, a thrill running through me as I distinctly saw the dark shadow again, but nearer than before. This time I was certain it was not imagination. A figure—enemy or no—was cautiously stealing towards our lines! My first impulse was to fire at the figure and give the alarm; but on second thoughts I hesitated to go to such an extreme. Fixing my eyes upon the dark, shadowy form, I cocked my rifle, and called hoarsely upon whoever it was to stop.

“Ah! No shoot, no shoot,” cried a familiar voice.

“Joeboy!” I exclaimed.

“Um!” was the reply; and, to my astonishment, the black came hurrying towards me, bending under a load which stuck out curiously from his sides and back.

“Why, what have you been doing out there?”

“Been get all these,” he said as he forced his way between a couple of stones, which caught his bulky load and checked him for a few moments.

“You idiot!” I said in a low tone, for I was afraid now that I had alarmed the sentries on either side; but though Joeboy’s load on one side bumped against my companion sentry, he was so utterly wearied out that he did not stir.

“Um? Idiot?” said Joeboy. “Boss Val going to be hungry. Joeboy hungry. Been to get all these.”

“What are they—forage-bags?”

“Um!” he said.

“But where did you get them—whose are they?”

“Doppies’. All in a heap. Brought them all along.”

A little further questioning made it all clear—that under cover of the darkness the plucky fellow had crept up the valley, taking advantage of the shelter afforded by the stones, passed the lines of the Boers, and hunted about till he came upon something worth having in the shape of a pile of canvas forage-bags containing the men’s provender, which they had left together and in charge of a sentinel, so as to be unencumbered in their attack upon us.

“But what about the sentry?” I said suspiciously.

“Um? Fast asleep,” said Joeboy.

“What! all the time you were loading yourself with these bags?”

“Um!”

“You did not send him to sleep, did you?” I said suspiciously.

“Um? Killum?”

“Yes.”

“No,” said Joeboy coolly. “Didn’t wake up. Lot more couldn’t carry. Plenty to eat now.”

“Then you actually went foraging up there, and got back safely with this load?”

“Um!” said Joeboy. “Boss Val must have plenty to eat. Doppies nearly caught um.”

“So I should expect,” I said. “But you nearly got shot, stealing up to the lines like this.”

He laughed softly.

“Boss Val wouldn’t shoot Joeboy. Doppies nearly ketch him. Big lot coming down now.”

“What!” I said excitedly. “Some of them coming down?”

“Um! Big lot coming down to fight.”

I began to grasp now that after all there was some night expedition on the way, and that the pile of haversacks Joeboy had found had been deposited there to leave the men free and unfettered.

“Look here,” I said sharply; “are you sure that the Doppies are coming down?”

“Um! Great big lot.”

“Here, you,” I whispered, “wake up!” and I shook and shook the sentry roughly, making him spring up and make a snatch at his rifle.

“Thank ye,” he said. “I say, I was nearly dropping off to sleep.”

“Very,” I said dryly; “but keep awake now. My man here has just brought in news that the enemy are coming on down the pass.”

“What—for a night-attack?”

“Yes.”

“The beasts!” he cried, and he raised his rifle to fire and give the alarm.

“No, no,” I said; “don’t fire unless you see them. I’ll go and give the alarm. Stand fast till reinforcements come.—Here, Joeboy, bring your load into camp.”

I led the way straight to the Colonel, being challenged twice before I reached the side where he, in company with his officers, lay sleeping in their horsemen’s heavy cloaks.

All sprang up at once, and each started to rouse his following, with the result that in a few minutes the whole force was under arms and divided in two bodies to join the line of sentries who paced up and down the pass.

It was only now I became aware of the Colonel’s plan of strategy, which was to defend the position as long as seemed wise, and then for each line to fold back, making the pivot of the movements the ends of the lines by the niche in the hillside where the horses were sheltered. Then, on the performance of this evolution, there would be a double line facing outward for the defence of the horses, in a position enormously strong from the impossibility of there being any attack from flanks or rear.

So far we had no news of any attack threatening from the Boers who held the lower part of the pass; but scouts had been sent out in that direction to get in touch with the enemy, and their return was anxiously awaited where the men were in position; but the minutes glided by in the midst of a profound silence, and I began to feel a doubt about the correctness of Joeboy’s announcement.

I was in the centre of the line which would receive the shock of the descending Boers, and Joeboy had stationed himself behind me as soon as he had bestowed his plunder in safety; and at last, as there was no sound to indicate that the enemy was on the move, I began to grow terribly impatient, feeling as I did that before long the Colonel and his officers would be reproaching me for giving a false alarm.

“Are you quite sure, Joeboy?” I whispered, turning to him where he squatted with assagai in hand and his shield spread across his knees.

“Um?” he whispered. “Yes, quite sure. Come soon.”

They did not come soon, and I grew more and more excited and angry; but I refrained from questioning the black any more, feeling as I did the uselessness of that course, and being unwilling to bring down upon myself the reproof of the officers for talking at a time when the order had been passed for strict silence, so that the Boers might meet with a complete surprise.

It seemed to me that an hour had passed, during which I stood behind the natural breastwork of a stone upon which my rifle rested, gazing straight away up the pass, and straining my sense of hearing to catch something to suggest that the enemy was in motion; but there was not a sound in the grim and desolate gap between the hills, and my beating heart sank lower and lower as I glanced back at Joeboy, who reached towards me.

“Doppy long time,” he said, hardly above his breath.

“They won’t come,” I whispered back angrily. “You fancied it all.”

“Um?”

“You fancied it all. They would not come on in the night.”

“Boss Val wait a bit. Come soon.”

“Ugh!” I ejaculated; and a voice somewhere near whispered, “Silence in the ranks!” The command was needed, for a low murmur was beginning to make itself heard.

All was still again directly after, and the time glided slowly on again, till that which I expected came suddenly; for I heard the trampling of feet behind me in the darkness, and a voice whispered, “Where’s that new recruit Moray?”

“I am here, sir,” I said.

“Quick! the Colonel wants you.”

I left my post, and another man stepped into my place, while I followed the sergeant who had summoned me.

“I say, young fellow,” he said, “you’re in for a bullying. The Colonel’s horribly wild about your false alarm. Are you sure the Doppies were coming on?”

I told him what I had learned, and that I had felt obliged to report it.

“Humph! Yes, of course; but it’s a great pity, when the men wanted rest.”

The next minute I was facing the Colonel in the middle of the pass, where he stood with a group of the officers, about half-way between the two lines of men facing up and down, but lying so close that they were only visible here and there.

“Oh, here you are, young fellow!” were the words that saluted me, spoken in a low, angry whisper. “Now then, where are these two attacking parties of Boers?”

“I only reported that one was coming, sir—one descending the pass.”

“Very well; you shall have credit for only one, then. Well, where is it?”

“I can’t say, sir,” I replied. “I was warned of it by my native servant.”

“Then just go back and flog your native servant till you have given him a lesson against spreading false alarms to rob tired men of their rest. It is perfectly abominable—just when we want all our strength for the work in hand for us to-morrow.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” I said.

“Sorry? What must I be, then? I can’t fight unless I have plenty to eat and as much sleep as I can get. There, get back to your post. I wish to goodness you had stopped at home or joined the Boers, or done something else with yourself, instead of coming and giving this confounded false alarm. Be off.—Here, call in the men again, and— Yes, what now?”

“Enemy coming up the pass in great strength, sir,” said one of the scouts, who had come breathlessly back.

“What!” said the Colonel in a hurried whisper. “Could you make them out?”

“Yes, sir; two or three hundred, I should say.”

“You got near enough to see?”

“I couldn’t see much, sir; but I could hear. They seemed to spread right across from the side I was on.”

“Here, you, Moray,” said the Colonel, turning to me, for at this announcement I had stood fast. “Get back to your post; and I beg your pardon.—Yes; who are you?”—for another scout came in to endorse the words of the first. He had scouted down the other side of the widening pass, and according to his report the enemy could not be a quarter of a mile away.

“Thank goodness!” said the Colonel fervently. “Mr Moray, I spoke in haste and disappointment. Now then, gentlemen, perfect silence, please. I believe we shall hear some signal from below, and that is what the party above are waiting for. Then they will attack simultaneously, to give us a surprise, and we’re going to surprise them. Every one to his post, please; and then, at their first rush, let it be volleys and slow falling back, so as to keep them from breaking our too open formation.”

The next minute every man was in his place, and the pass so dark and still that it was impossible to believe that a terrible conflict was so close at hand. As I stood waiting and listening for the enemy’s order to attack, I could feel my heart go throb, throb, throb, throb, so hard that I seemed to be hearing it at the same time making a dull echo in my brain.

Still there was no sign; and at last I began to go over my brief interview with the Colonel, and to wonder whether he would turn now upon the two scouts and charge them with having deceived themselves, for according to their report the enemy ought to have been upon us long before. I had got to this point when all at once I felt an arm upon my shoulder, and could just make out at the side and front of my face a big hand pointing forward towards the stones a hundred feet away.

“Um!” whispered Joeboy, with his lips close to my ear. “See um now. Big lots.”

“I can see nothing,” I whispered.

“Joeboy can. Lie down ready. Boss Val going to shoot?”

“When I get the order,” I said softly, and my heart beat more heavily than ever, for I felt now that the black must be right. I had had for years past proofs of the wonderful power of his sight, and had not a doubt that, though they were invisible to me, a large body of the enemy were clustering among the stones ready for the assault upon our position.

Then I heard from somewhere below a faint, rushing, whistling sound, as of a firework, followed by a crack, and the white stars of a rocket lit up the sides of the pass and made the stones in front visible in a soft glare. The next instant from front and rear, almost simultaneously, there were flashes and a scattered roar, while the sides of the pass took up the reports, forming a deafening roll of thunder running down towards the plain.

Before this was half-over there was the rush of men before us, the stones and the spaces between seeming to be alive with running and leaping Boers, shouting and cheering like mad as they came on, their purpose being to scare us and frighten the horses into a stampede, which, if it had followed, must have been equally fatal to their comrades attacking from the rear as it would have been to us; but, instead of the enemy being gratified by hearing the clattering of hundreds of hoofs, they were received by a series of sharp volleys proceeding from our two lines of men. These were so inadequately returned that the officers in the rear ran to and fro bidding us stand firm and keep up the fire, no attempt being made to fall back towards the gap where the horses were tethered.

Those were tremendously exciting minutes, and in the confusion, the crack of the rifles, and the reverberations, I hardly know what I did, except that I kept on firing without taking aim, for the simple reason that there was nothing visible in the smoke and darkness unless one had tried to aim at a spot from whence flashes came; and as the men attacking us were constantly on the move, that would have been useless.

I found afterwards, on talking to the men above me, that they had behaved in precisely the same way as I did—they kept on firing; while all were in constant expectation of having to club their rifles to beat back the enemy should they come on with a rush.

However, we never came to close quarters that night; for, failing in sweeping our men back in the first surprise, the enemy drew off a short distance till all were well under cover, and then kept up their fire, each party of the enemy seeming utterly regardless of the risk to their own comrades beyond us.

In the midst of the roar and reverberation I was startled by a hand laid upon my shoulder, and, turning sharply, I found the sergeant by my side.

“Fall back,” he said; and as I obeyed I thrust my hand to my cartridge-belt so as to reload, when, to my utter astonishment, I found it was two-thirds empty. This was soon remedied; for, as we—that is to say, about half the defenders of the upper side of our stronghold—stood fast, non-commissioned officers came running along and thrust packets of cartridges into our hands.

It was, as I have said, very dark; but I could just manage to see beneath the canopy of smoke which rose slowly that half the lower line of defenders had fallen back. Directly after, we were all hurried to the front of the great niche and ordered to man the rocks there in front of the horses.

While settling ourselves in every advantageous position we could find, the firing went on as briskly as ever, the Boers blazing away at our two lines of men, who replied as fast as they could load; and, as far as I could tell by the sound, the fusillade did not slacken.

Then I began to understand what was about to happen, and could not help laughing to myself when I saw the part of our line we had left firing suddenly come hurrying in, to pass through an opening in our ranks; and no sooner were they safe than the lower line fell back and came running into the shelter, to join up with the others.

As soon as these detachments were out of the way we had orders to fire four cartridges each, half of us firing as well up the pass as possible, the other half to fire as far downwards as they could. After these four rounds each we were to cease firing: this was, of course, to prevent the Boers from noticing that our fire had slackened and then ceased; and it answered exactly as the Colonel had intended, for the bull-headed and obstinate enemy went on for the next half-hour firing away at the stones where we had been, each side believing that a portion of the reports and echoes were caused by our firing, and all the time our men stood laughing and enjoying the blunder, and pretty sure that the enemy must be bringing down some of their own comrades. Whether the enemy found this out at last, or were dissatisfied at not being able to silence our fire, I don’t know; but suddenly there was another train of sparks rushing up through the smoke, and the bursting of a rocket far on high, sending down a dingy bluish light through the overhanging cloud. Then the firing stopped as if by magic.

Instantly every man was on the qui vive, the front of the niche bristling with rifles ready to deliver volley after volley as soon as the rush we all expected began; but we waited in vain. When skirmishers were sent out to feel their way cautiously in the darkness, through which the smoke was slowly rising, we still waited and listened, expecting to hear them fired upon; but again we waited in vain. Both parties of the enemy had retired for the night; and, as soon as the Colonel was satisfied of this, the necessary advance-posts were sent out and stationed, and the men then ordered to lie down on their arms and get what sleep they could.

Chapter Fifteen.

The Sergeant’s Wound.

There were the hard stones for our couches, and the air up in the pass was sharp and cold; but we were all pretty close together, and in five minutes it did not seem as if any one was awake, though doubtless the few poor fellows who had been wounded—I may say wonderfully few considering what we had gone through—did not get much sleep. I was one of those who did lie awake for a time, gazing up at the clear, bright stars which began to peer down through the clearing-off smoke, but only for a few minutes; then a calm, restful feeling began to steal over me, and I was sleeping as sound as if on one of the feather-beds at the farm, where in course of years they had grown plentiful and big.

We were not, however, to pass the night in peace; for directly after, as it seemed to me, I started up in the darkness, roused by firing. Then the trumpet-call rang out, and we were all up ready for the rush that was in progress; while I was startled and confused, and unable to understand why the now mounted Boers should be guilty of such an insane action as to attack us there, nestling among the stones. We were all ready, but no orders came to fire, and all crouched or stood with finger on trigger, gradually grasping what it all meant, and listening to the trampling of hoofs going steadily on, till at last the Colonel’s familiar voice was heard from close to where I stood.

“Hold your fire, my lads. We should be doing no good by bringing a few down. Let them join their friends. They’ve come to the conclusion that this is too hard a nut to crack.”

This is what happened: the enemy’s lower party had waited till nearly daylight, and then approached quietly till their coming had been noticed by our outpost sentries, who fired to give the alarm, when they made a sudden dash to get up the pass to join the detachment of Boers above. This they were allowed to do unmolested, the Colonel saying that nothing was to be gained by stopping them, and that an advance up the pass was work for infantry, not for a mounted force.

Daylight came soon afterwards, I suppose; but I did not watch for the dawn, for, as soon as the last of the horsemen had passed and the word was given, I sank down again and slept as a tired lad can sleep. Again, as it seemed, only a few minutes expired before the trumpet once more rang out, and I had to shake myself together, when the first face that looked into mine was that of Joeboy, who was standing close by me with a heap of haversacks at his feet, and grinning at me with a good-humoured smile. I didn’t smile, for I felt stiff and full of aches and pains; but before long fires were burning and water getting hot. I had a good shower-bath, too, in a gurgling spring of water which came down a rift by the gap in the pass. Then sweet hot coffee and slices of bread and cold ham out of one of the haversacks Joeboy had foraged for seemed to quite alter the face of nature. Perhaps it was that the sun came out warm and bright, and that the blue sky was beautiful; but I gave the bread, ham, and coffee the credit of it all. Ah! what a breakfast that was! It seemed to me the most delicious I had ever eaten; but before it was begun I had been to see Denham, who was sitting up with his chest tightly bandaged. He was ready to hold out a hand as soon as he saw me.

“Hullo, Moray!” he cried, “how are you this morning?”

“It’s how are you?” I replied.

“Oh, I’m all right. A bit stiff, and I’ve got a bruise in the back, the doctor says, like; the top of a silk hat.”

“You haven’t seen it?” I said.

“Have I got a neck like an ostrich or a giraffe? No, of course I haven’t.”

“But is anything broken?” I asked anxiously.

“No, not even cracked. The pot’s quite sound, so the doctor hasn’t put in a single rivet.”

“I am glad,” I said heartily.

“That’s right—thank you,” said the poor fellow, smiling pleasantly, and he kept his eyes fixed upon me for some moments. Then in a light bantering way he went on, “Doctor said the well-worn old thing.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“Oh, that if it hadn’t been for that bullet and brass cartridge-case, backed up by the thick leather belt, that Boer’s bullet would have bored—now, now, you were going to laugh,” he cried.

“That I wasn’t,” I said wonderingly. “What is there to laugh at?”

“Oh, you thought I was making a pun: bored a hole right through me.”

“Rubbish!” I said. “Just as if I should have thought so lightly about so terribly dangerous an injury.”

“Good boy!” he cried merrily. “I like that. I see you’ve been very nicely brought up. That must be due to your aunt—aunt—aunt— What’s her name?”

“Never mind,” I said shortly; “but if you can laugh and joke like that there’s no need for me to feel anxious about your hurt.”

“Not a bit, Solomon,” he cried merrily. “There you go again, trying to make puns—solemn un—eh? I say, though, you do look solemn this morning, Val. I know: want your breakfast—eh!”

“Had it,” I said, smiling now.

“I do, my young recruit. I’m longing for a cup of hot coffee or tea. But I say, Val, my lad,” he continued, seriously now, “I haven’t felt in a very laughing humour while I lay awake part of the night.”

“I suppose not,” I said earnestly. “It must have been very terrible to lie here listening to the fighting—wounded, too—and not able to join in.”

“Well, yes, that was pretty bail; but I didn’t worry about that. I knew the Colonel would manage all right. I was worried.”

“What worried you?” I said—“the pain?”

“Oh no; I grinned and bore that. Here, come closer; I don’t want that chap to hear.”

“What is it?” I said, closing up.

“It was that business yesterday, when I was hit.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think about it,” I said.

“Can’t help it. I did try precious hard to carry it off before I quite broke down.”

“You bore it all like a hero,” I said.

“No, I didn’t, lad. I bore it like a big boarding-school girl. Oh! it was pitiful. Fainted dead away.”

“No wonder,” I replied, smiling. “You’re not made of cast-iron.”

“Here, I say, you fellow,” he cried; “just you keep your position. None of your insolence, please. Recollect that you’re only a raw recruit, and I’m your officer.”

“Certainly,” I said, smiling. “I thought we were both volunteers.”

“So we are, old fellow, off duty; but it must be officer and private on duty. I say, tell me, though, about the boys and the Sergeant. Did they sneer?”

“Sneer?” I cried indignantly. “You’re insulting the brave fellows. They carried you down splendidly, and I believe there wasn’t a man here who wouldn’t have died for you.”

“But—but,” he said huskily, “they must have thought me very weak and girlish.”

“I must have thought so too—eh?”

“Of course,” he said, in a peculiar way.

“Then, of course, I didn’t,” I cried warmly; “I thought you the bravest, pluckiest fellow I had ever seen.”

“Lay it on thick, old fellow,” he said huskily; “butter away. Can’t you think of something a little stronger than plucky and brave—and—don’t take any notice of me, Val, old lad. I’m a bit weak this morning.”

“Of course you are,” I said sharply, and dashed off at once into a fresh subject. “I say, I must go and hunt out the Sergeant. That was a nasty wound he got after you were hit.”

My words had the right effect.

“The Sergeant?” he cried. “Oh, poor old chap! we can’t spare him. Was he hurt badly?”

“Oh no, he laughed it off, just as you did your injury; but I am afraid he has lost one finger.”

“Ah, my young hero!” cried a cheery voice, and I started round and saluted, for it was the Colonel. “How’s the wound—eh?”

“Oh, it isn’t a wound, sir,” said Denham rather impatiently. “Only a bad bruise.”

“Very nearly something worse.—Morning, my lad:” this to me, and I felt the colour flush up into my cheeks. “You behaved uncommonly well last night, and we’re all very much indebted to you. Pretty good, this, for a recruit. I heartily wish you had been with us two or three months, and you should certainly have had your first stripes.”

I mumbled out something about doing my best.

“You did,” said the Colonel. “I’m sorry I spoke so hastily to you in my error. I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We are, sir,” said Denham warmly.

“Oh, of course; I remember. You shot together some time ago.”

“Yes, sir,” said Denham, “and I had a grand time with Val Moray, here—big game shooting.”

“Not such big game shooting as you are going to have here,” said the Colonel. “I’m glad to see you so much better, Denham. Be careful, and mind what the doctor says to you.”

He hurried away, and as soon as he had passed out of sight the Sergeant, with his arm in a sling, came up from where he had been waiting to ask how his young officer fared, giving me a friendly nod at the same time.

“Oh, there’s nothing the matter with me, Briggs,” said Denham. “I shall be all right now. Thank you heartily, though, for what you did for me.”

“Did for you, sir?” said the Sergeant gruffly. “I did nothing, only just in the way of duty.”

“Oh, that was it—was it?” said Denham. “Then you did it uncommonly well—didn’t he, Moray?”

“Splendidly,” I said, with a fair display of enthusiasm.

“Look here, you, sir,” said the Sergeant very gruffly as he turned upon me; “young recruits to the corps have got all their work cut out to learn their duty, without criticising their superior officers. So just you hold your tongue.”

“That’s a snub, Moray,” said Denham; “but never mind.—Look here, Sergeant, how’s your wound?”

“Wound, sir?” he replied. “I haven’t got any wound.”

“Then why is your arm in a sling?”

“Oh, that, sir? That’s a bit of the doctor’s nonsense. He said I was to keep it on, so I suppose I must. But it isn’t a wound.”

“What is it, then?” said Denham sharply.

“Bullet cut my finger; that’s all.”

“Did it cut it much?” asked Denham.

“Took a little bit off, and I went to the doctor for a piece o’ sticking-plaster, and he as good as called me a fool.”

“What did you say, then, to make him?”

“I said nothing, sir, only that I wanted the plaster.”

“Did he give you some?”

“No, sir; but I suppose he wanted to try his new bag o’ tools, and got hold of me. ‘Hold still,’ he says, ‘or I shall give you chloroform.’ ‘Can’t you make it a drop o’ whisky, sir?’ I says. ‘Yes, if you behave yourself,’ he says. ‘Look here, I can’t plaster up a place like this. Your finger’s in rags, and the bone’s in splinters.’ ‘Oh, it’ll soon grow together, sir,’ I says. ‘Nothing of the kind, sir,’ he says; ‘it’ll go bad if I don’t make a clean job of it. Now then, shut your eyes, and sit still in that chair. I won’t hurt you much.’”

“Did he?” said Denham.

“Pretty tidy, sir; just about as much as he could. He takes out a tool or two, and before I knew where I was he’d made a clean cut or two and taken off some more of my finger, right down to the middle joint. ‘There,’ he says, as soon as he’d put some cotton-wool soaked with nasty stuff on the place, after sewing and plastering it up—‘there, that’ll heal up quickly and well now!’”

“Of course,” said Denham. “Made a clean job of it.”

“Clean job, sir?” said the Sergeant. “Well, yes, he did it clean enough, and so was the lint and stuff; but it’s made my finger so ugly. It looks horrid. I say, sir, do you think the finger’ll grow again?”

“No, Briggs, I don’t; so you must make the best of it.”

“But crabs’ and lobsters’ claws grow again, sir; for I’ve seen ’em do it at home, down in Cornwall.”

“Yes; but we’re not crabs and lobsters, Sergeant. There, never mind about such a bit of a wound as that.”

“I don’t, sir—not me; but it do look ugly, and feels as awkward as if I’d lost an arm. There, I must be off, sir. I’ve got to see to our poor fellows who are to go off in a wagon back to the town.”

“How many were hurt?” said Denham eagerly.

“Five; and pretty badly, too.”

“Any one—” Then Denham stopped short.

“No, sir, not one, thank goodness; but those lads won’t be on horseback again these two months to come. Doctor wanted me to go with the wagon, but I soon let him know that wouldn’t do.”

“Poor fellows!” said Denham as soon as the Sergeant had gone. “That’s the horrible part of it, getting wounded and being sent back to hospital. It’s what I dread.”

“You won’t attempt to mount to-day?” I said. “You’d better follow in one of the wagons.”

“Think so?” he said quietly. “Well, we shall see.”

I did see in the course of that morning. For, when the order was given to march, and the column wound down in and out among the stones of the pass, Denham was riding with the troop, looking rather white, and no doubt suffering a good deal; but he would not show it, and we rode away. For a despatch had been brought to the Colonel from the General in command of the forces, ordering the Light Horse to join him on the veldt a dozen miles away as soon as the British regiment of foot reached the mouth of the pass; and, as I afterwards learned, the Colonel’s orders were to keep away from the kopjes and mountainous passes, where the Boers had only to lie up and pick off all who approached, and wait for opportunities to attack them in the open.

It was Denham who told me, and also what the Colonel said, his words being, “Then we shall do nothing, for the Doppies will take good care not to give us a chance to cut them up in the plains.”

As we rode down the pass we could see some of the enemy’s sentries high up among the mountainous parts; but we were not to attack them there; and, with a good deal of growling amongst the men, we kept on. Then every one seemed to cheer up when, a couple of hours later, we came in sight of a long line of infantry steadily advancing, and the rocks rang soon afterwards with the men’s cheers as they drew up to let us pass.

“No fear of the Boers getting past them,” said Denham to me. “I shouldn’t wonder if their orders are to mount the pass, go over the Nek, and hold it. Maybe we shall meet them again after we’ve made a circuit and got round the mountains and on to the plain.”

Chapter Sixteen.

On the March.

Our next week or two seemed to be passed in doing nothing but riding from place to place for the purpose of cutting off parties of Boers. Information was sent to the Colonel, generally from headquarters; but, whether because we were too long in coming, or because the Boers were too slippery, we always found they had not stopped to be cut off, but were gone. There was no doubt they had been at the places we reached, generally some farm, where the old occupier and his people received us in surly silence, and invariably declared there was nothing left to eat, for the Boers had stripped the place. This sullen reception was not because we were going to plunder them, for the orders were that everything requisitioned was to be paid for; it was solely from a feeling of pitiful racial hatred.

We reached a big and prosperous-looking farm one afternoon after a long hot ride, and I had been chatting with Denham more than once, and remarking how rapidly he had recovered from his injury, which he attributed to the healthy open-air life, and had also spoken with the sergeant, whose injury troubled him very little; while of our men, thirty who had received slight injuries had refused to go into hospital, and were now ready to laugh at any allusion to wounds.

We had reached, as I said, a big and prosperous-looking farm on the open veldt, hot, fagged, hungry, and thirsty; and the first thing we saw was the disorder left after the encamping of a large body of men. There were the traces of the fire they had made, the trampling and litter left by horses, and the marks where wagon after wagon had been placed to form a laager; while in front of the long, low house a big, old, grey-bearded Boer stood smoking, with his hands in his pockets.

One of the officers rode forward to tell him that we were going to camp there for the night, and that he must supply sheep, poultry, grain for the horses, and fuel for the corps, at the regular market-prices, for which an order for payment would be given to him.

The officer was received with a furious burst of abuse in Dutch. There was nothing left on the farm. The Boers had been there and cleared the place; and if we wanted provisions of any kind we must ride on, for we should get nothing there.

The officer was getting used to this kind of reception, and he rode back at once to the Colonel, who nodded and gave an order, riding forward with the other officers to take possession of one of the rooms. In an instant the men began to spread about and search, and the farmer dashed down his pipe in a fury, to come running towards the officers, raging and swearing in Dutch as to what he would do; while, as soon as he saw half-a-dozen men approach the corrugated-iron poultry-house and proceed to wrench off the padlock, the old man rushed back into his house, and returned followed by his fat wife and two daughters, all well armed in some fashion or another, the farmer himself bearing a long rifle and thrusting his head and arm through a cartridge-belt. There seemed no doubt about his meaning mischief, but before he could thrust a cartridge into his piece it was wrested from his hands by one of the troopers; and others coming to the trooper’s aid, the fierce old fellow was bundled back into his house, his people following, and a sentry placed at the door.

Rude and cruel? Well, perhaps so; but we were in an enemy’s country—the country of a people who had forced a war upon us—and the Colonel had a couple of hundred people waiting to be fed. So we were fed amply, for the farm was amply stocked; and the order the officer left in the old Boer’s hands in return for his curses was ample to recompense him for what had been forcibly taken.

Denham and I slept pretty close to one another in one of the barns that night, revelling in the thick covering of mealie-leaves which formed our bed. Sweet, fresh, and dry, it seemed glorious; but I did not sleep soundly all the time for thinking of what might happen to us during the darkness. Once it was whether the farmer would send on messengers to bring back the Boer party who had preceded us, and give us an unpleasant surprise. Another time, as I lay on my back peering up at the openings in the corrugated-iron roof through which the stars glinted down, I found myself thinking of how horrible it would be if an enemy’s hand thrust in a lighted brand; and in imagination I dwelt upon the way the dry Indian-corn leaves would burst into a roaring furnace of fire, in which some of us must perish before we could fight our way out. It was not a pleasant series of thoughts to trouble one in the dead of the night, and just then I heard a sigh.

“Awake, Denham?” I whispered.

“Yes—horribly,” he replied. “I say, smell that?”

“What?” I replied, feeling startled.

“Some idiot’s lit his pipe, and we shall all be burned in our—beds, I was going to say: I mean in this mealie straw.”

“I can’t smell it,” I said.

“What! Haven’t you got any nose?”

“Yes: I smell it now,” I said; “but it’s some one outside—one of the sentries, I think.”

“Don’t feel sure—do you?”

“Yes, I do now. Strict orders were given that no one was to smoke in the barns.”

“Did you hear the order given?”

“Yes; and Sergeant Briggs muttered about it, and said it would serve the old Boer right if his hams were burned down.”

“So it would,” said my companion; “but I don’t want us to be burned in them. Oh dear!”

“What’s the matter?” I said.

“I wish this old war was over, and the same wish comes every night when I can’t sleep; but in the daytime I feel as different as can be, and begin desiring that we could overtake the Boers and all who caused the trouble, and give them such a thrashing as should make them sue for peace. I say—”

“Yes,” I replied.

“That’s all. Good-night. I can’t smell the smoking now.”

Neither could I.

Chapter Seventeen.

We Make a Discovery.

“Oh, I don’t like it; I don’t like it,” cried Denham to me, as he rode up to my side while we were cantering over the veldt one day. “We always seem to be running away.”

“Manoeuvring,” I said, with a laugh.

“Oh, hang so much manoeuvring!” he muttered. “The Boers set it all down to cowardice, and hold us in contempt.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” I said, as we rode on over the splendid open highland, with the brisk bracing air whistling past our ears, and our horses seeming thoroughly to enjoy the run; “we’ve shown the enemy time after time that we are not cowards.”

“But we’re running away again; we’re running away again.”

“Nonsense,” I said; “we’re altering our position. I declare I’m getting to be a better soldier than you are. Would it be right to stand fast here and let the Boers surround us and lie snugly behind the rocks to take careful aim and shoot us all down, horse and man?”

“Oh, I suppose not,” groaned my companion; “but I hate—I loathe—running away from these bullet-headed double-Dutchmen. They think it so cowardly.”

“Let them, in their ignorance,” I said. “It seems to me far more cowardly to hide one’s self behind a stone and bring down with a rifle a man who can’t reach them.”

“Perhaps so. But where are we making for?”

“That clump of rocks right out yonder, that looks like a town.”

“But they’re making for that too,” said Denham, shading his eyes by pulling down the rim of his soft felt hat.

“Yes,” I said; “and there’s another body behind us, and one on each flank. We’re surrounded.”

“Then why doesn’t the Colonel call a halt and let us stand shoulder to shoulder and fight it out with the ring?”

“Because he wants to save all our lives, I suppose.”

“‘He who fights and runs away will live to fight another day,’” said Denham, with a bitter sneer. “Oh, I’m sick of it. Look here; those brutes of Boers will reach that great kopje first, drop amongst the stones, and shoot us all down just when we get there with our horses pumped out.”

“Yes,” I said, “if you keep on talking instead of nursing your horse.”

“Are you aware that I am your officer?” he cried angrily.

“Quite,” I replied; “but I was talking to my friend.”

“Friend be hanged!” he snapped out. “Keep your place.”

“I am keeping my place,” I said—“knee to knee with you; and our horses are going as if they were harnessed together. I say, what a race!”

“Yes, it’s splendid,” said Denham excitedly. “Oh, how I wish the brutes would stand fast and let us charge right into them—through them—cut them to pieces, or ride them down! I feel strung up for anything now.”

I nodded at him, and panted out something about his knowing that the enemy would not stand for a charge.

It was exciting. By accident, of course, in following out certain instructions from the General in command, to take a certain course and cut off a commando of the Boers, we had somehow managed to get into an awkward position, no less than four strong bodies of the enemy hemming us in.

There was nothing for our commander to do but make for the nearest shelter, and this presented itself in the distance in the shape of what looked like one of the regular piles of granite rocks, which, if we reached it first, we could hold against the enemy, however greatly they outnumbered us; though even then it seemed plain enough that they were far more than ten to one.

“Shall we do it?” said Denham as we rode on, having increased our pace to a gallop.

“Yes,” I said; “I don’t think there’s a doubt of it now. We’re on better ground, and they’re getting among rocks.”

“The flanks are closing in fast,” said Denham.

“Yes; but we shall be out of the jaws of the trap before it closes,” I said, “and we’re leaving the last lot behind fast.”

“Oh,” said Denham between his teeth, “if we can only get time to hurry the horses into shelter and give the enemy one good volley before they sneak off!”

“Well, it looks as if we shall. But look! look!” I said excitedly; “that’s not a kopje.”

“What is it, then?”

“A town, with a fort and walls. We’re riding into a solid trap, I’m afraid.”

“Nonsense; there’s no town out here.”

“But look for yourself,” I said excitedly. “It’s a fort, and occupied. I can see men on the walls.”

“Impossible. There’s no fort or town anywhere out here.”

“I tell you I can see plainly,” I said stubbornly, for I had in those days capital eyes, well trained by hunting expeditions to seeing great distances.

“I tell you you can’t,” cried Denham.

“I can, and that’s what the Boers are doing. They’re driving us into a trap, and that troop that has been racing us is fighting to get here first so as to cut us off when we find out our mistake and try to get away.”

“I say, are you talking foolishness or common-sense?” said Denham.

“Common-sense,” I replied; “the sort that nobody likes to believe.”

“If you are we’re galloping into a horrible mess; the Colonel ought to be told. Yes, I’m beginning to think you’re right. Ah! I can see the people there. They’re manning that tower in the middle; I can just make them out. Val, lad, your horse is faster than mine. You must try and drop out, or spin forward, or do something to get to the Colonel’s side and tell him what you can see.”

I made no reply, but rode on stride for stride with my companion; but I kept my eyes fixed upon the strange-looking rocks and edifices in front, and made no effort to change my position.

“Did you hear what I said?” cried Denham.

“Yes, I heard,” I replied. “But how is it to be done?”

“Don’t ask me how it’s to be done,” he said angrily; “do it.”

“There’s no need,” I said; “the enemy is scuttling off as fast as he can go.”

“Retreating?”

“Seems like it. Why, Denham, can’t you see?”

“See? No! What? Speak out, before it’s too late.”

“Look again,” I said, laughing. “It’s a troop of baboons.”

“What!” cried Denham. “Well, of all the absurd things! So it is.”

There was no doubt about the matter, and five minutes’ gallop brought us close up to where a mob of two or three hundred of the fierce and hardy half-doglike creatures were racing about over the rocks, after leaving the walls and battlements of the great buildings in front of us, and leaping higher and higher amongst the rocks of the great clump which stood like an island in the midst of a dried-up sea.

There was no time for natural-history studies of the ape. The squadron of Boers we had been racing to get first to the ruins—as we now saw them to be—were only far enough off to afford us time to pull up, spring from our horses at the foot of a huge wall, and, from our steady position, give the advancing enemy a volley with such good effect that over a dozen saddles were emptied, and the whole body wheeled round and dashed off to join the rest of the advancing force.

This gave us a few minutes’ respite, during which the horses were rapidly led into shelter by half our party, who found a way through the great wall; while the other half rapidly manned wall, rock, and tower, ready to receive the enemy with a steady fire, which they were not likely to stand, for in every direction now the veldt stretched away, bare of such cover as our enemies loved to use.

It was close work, and the Boers swept round right and left to attack us in the rear. Our men were, however, too quick for them; and, climbing higher, knots of them reached the highest portions of the rocks beyond the ruins, and opened fire upon the enemy, so that in a short time our assailants drew back to a distance, but kept their formation of four parties. As soon as they were beyond range, we could see three men from each of three bodies gallop off to join the fourth, evidently to hold a council of war concerning their next movements. This afforded us time to make something of an examination of the stronghold so opportunely offered as a refuge, and gave the Colonel an opportunity for taking the best advantage of our position.

The ruined buildings had undoubtedly been constructed for purposes of defence; and, to every one’s intense delight, on passing through an opening in what proved to be a solid cyclopean wall, strengthened with tower-like edifices, there was a wide courtyard-like enclosure, quite beyond the reach of bullets, into which our horses were led, the walls themselves being of ample width to be manned, and with sufficient shelter from which our marksmen could command the whole kopje; and on these walls about fifty of our men were stationed.

“We’re safe enough here from any attack they can make,” said the Colonel. “What we have to fear is the want of water and provisions if they try to invest us.”

Which they would not do, was the opinion of all who heard his words. We had our haversacks pretty well lined, and each man had, of course, his water-bottle; but the possibility of being held up for over twenty-four hours was enough to make the Colonel give orders for an examination of the ruins and the rocks of the kopje around, to see if water could be found.

To Denham was given the task of making the search, and he nodded to me to accompany him, and afterwards called to Sergeant Briggs, who eagerly came to our side.

“We’re to go upon a foraging expedition, Briggs,” said Denham, “in case we want food and water.”

“Well, it won’t take much looking to prove that there isn’t a mouthful of food to be got here, sir,” said the Sergeant, “unless we take to shooting some of those pretty creatures hiding amongst the stones. They’re as big as sheep, but I should want to be more’n usually hungry before I had a leg or a wing.”

“Ugh!” shuddered Denham. “I’d sooner eat hyena.”

“Well, no, sir; I won’t go as far as that,” said the Sergeant.

“As to water,” said Denham; “this has been a city at some time, so there must have been wells somewhere, for no river has ever been hereabout in the plain.”

“Wells or tanks, no doubt, sir, if we can find them,” said the Sergeant; “but I expect we shall find they have been filled up or covered by the stones that have crumbled down from these towers and walls.”

“What a place to build a city in, out in the middle of this wide veldt!” I remarked.

“It’s more a fort or castle than the ruins of a city,” said Denham. “It’s a puzzle, and it must be very, very old; but I say bless the people who built the place, for it’s a regular haven of refuge for us. Why, we could hold these old walls against the whole Boer army.”

“Two of ’em, sir, if we’d got anything to eat.”

“And drink,” I added.

“Yes,” said Denham. “That’s the weak point; but there must be a big well somewhere, and we’ve got to find it.”

“I believe the horses would find it, sir, if we led one about—a thirsty one. They’re good ones to smell out water when they want it.”

“Well, we’ll try one if we can’t find it without,” said Denham. “Come on.”

We “came on,” searching about in the inside of the place, while the outer works and the rocks were held by our troops; and after carefully examining the enclosure where the horses stood looking rather disconsolate, as they snuffed at the chaotic heaps of broken and crumbling stones, we passed through what must have been a gateway built for defence. The sides of this gateway were wonderfully sharp and square, and the peculiarity of the opening was, that it opened at once upon a huge blank wall not above six feet away, completely screening the entrance to the great court, and going off to right and left. So that, instead of going straight on to explore the exterior of the court, we had the choice of proceeding along one of two narrow passages open to the sky, but winding away just as if the court had originally been built with two walls for an enemy to batter down before they could reach the centre.

No enemy had battered down these walls, not even the outer one. Time had been at work on the upper part some thirty or forty feet above our heads, where many stones had been loosened and others had fallen; but the greater part of the walls stood just as they had been built by the workmen when the world was much younger, possibly two or three thousand years ago. Had time permitted, I for one should have liked to wander about and climb here and there, and try to build up in imagination a theory as to what race or age the old builders of the place belonged.

“It’s a puzzle,” said Denham, in answer to a remark of mine; “but they were not of the same race or kind of people as the tribes of niggers who have lived here since, and who have never built anything better than a kraal. But look here, Val; we mustn’t stop mooning over old history; we’ve got to find water for the horses, and there must be some about, for people couldn’t have lived here without.”

I roused myself at once to my task, and we struck off to the left, walking and climbing over blocks of stone which had dropped in from the outer wall and encumbered the narrow passage, every now and then being saluted by one of the men, who, rifle in hand, was perched on high, watching the Boers, and ready, as Denham put it, to administer a blue pill to any one impudent enough to come too close.

After getting along for about a hundred feet we came to a big opening on our right—a wide gap where the huge stone wall had been broken down by man or through some convulsion of nature, and now forming a rugged slope full of steps, by which our men had mounted on either side of the opening to the top, where, as stated, they had ample space for moving and shelter from the enemy’s bullets.

“What are you looking for?” said one of the troopers from the top. “There’s no one here.”

“Water,” said the Sergeant gruffly.

“Then you’ll have to wait till it rains,” said the sentry.

“Humph! we shall see about that,” said Denham in a low tone, intended for my ears only; and we climbed on over a heap of débris, at the top of which we had a good view outward to where one of the Boer parties had dismounted and were resting their horses before retiring or making another attack.

Upon descending the farther side of the heap of broken stones, there was a continuation of the open passage, always about six feet wide, but winding probably in following the course of the rock upon which the place was built, so that we could not at any time look far along the passage.

“This doesn’t seem like the way to find water,” said Denham.

“One never knows,” I said. “Let’s see where the passage leads to.”

“Of course; but it seems waste of time. The old city, or temple, or whatever it was, must have been built with two walls for security, and I dare say once upon a time it was covered in so as to form a broad rampart.”

“Right!” I said eagerly, and pointed forward. For we had just come in sight, at a bend, of a spot where great stones were laid across from wall to wall; and on passing under them we found our way encumbered beyond by numbers of similar blocks, some of which seemed to have crumbled away in the middle till they broke in two and then dropped.

“Oh yes,” said Denham, in reply to a remark, “it’s very interesting, of course, but we’re not ruin-grubbers. I dare say the place was built in the year 1; and the knowing old codgers who understand these things would tell us that the people who built the place had dolly something, or square heads; but we want to find out which was the market-place where they kept the town-pump.”

“And as the pump is most probably worn out,” I said laughingly, “we’ll be content with the well.”

“Oh, if we find the well the pump-handle’s sure to be at the bottom, and— Hullo! what have we got here?”

I shared my companion’s wonder, for upon rounding a curve of the passage we came upon an opening in the great stones of the inner wall—an opening that was wonderfully perfect, being covered in by the cross-stones, which were in place over the passage where the doorway showed.

“Dark,” I said as I passed in. “No; only just here. There’s another wall, and quite a narrow passage not above three feet wide, and then it’s light again.”

“Let’s look,” said Denham. “Stop a minute, though. Don’t go in, or you may drop down some hole. Here, I’ll strike a light.”

The next minute a little match was lighting up the narrow place, with the wall close in front and then a passage going off to the right.

“Why, it’s like Hampton Court Maze done in stone,” said Denham. “But there, what did I say? Look at that hole.”

He pitched the remains of the burning match to the right, and it dropped down out of sight, lighting up the narrow way and then going out.

“That’s the well, I believe,” I said.

“Let well alone,” replied Denham. “We don’t want to tumble down there.—I say, Briggs, pick up that bit of stone, and reach in and pitch it down.”

The sergeant rested his rifle against the wall, picked up a block of stone, and reaching in, threw it to his left so accurately, by good chance, that it must have dropped right in the middle of the opening and gone down clear for some distance before it struck against stone, and then rebounded and struck again, rumbling and rolling down for some distance before it stopped.

“Cheerful sort of place to have gone down,” said Denham. “Tell you what; that’s the way down to the wine-cellars. The old races were rare people for cultivating the grape and making wine.”

“I believe it’s the way down to the vaults where they buried their dead,” I said.

“Ugh! Horrid,” cried my companion. “Here, let’s light another match.”

He struck one, held it low, and stepped in and then to his right, and stood at the very edge of a hole in the rough floor of crumbled stone. Then, to my horror, the light flashed in the air as if it was being passed through it rapidly.

Then Denham spoke.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You can step across. It’s only about three feet over. Wait till I’ve lit another match. Yes,” he said as the light flashed up, “it’s just as wide as it is across. I believe that originally the place was quite dark, and this hole was a pitfall for the enemies who attacked. There, come on.”

It was easy enough to spring over, and the next minute Briggs followed, and we continued our way down a narrow passage whose roof was open to the sky at the end of a couple of dozen yards, so that there was no risk of our stumbling upon a pitfall; and, after passing along this passage for a time in a curve, we came upon what seemed to be its termination in a doorway, still pretty square, but whose top was so low that we had to stoop to enter a kind of building or room of a peculiar shape, wider at one end than at the other, in which there was a rough erection; while at one corner, some ten yards away, there was another doorway leading, probably, to another passage.

“Why, it must be a temple,” I said, “and that built-up place was the altar.”

“Does look like it,” said Denham thoughtfully.

“You gentlemen know best, I dessay,” said the Sergeant; “but it strikes me that this here was a palace, and the bit we’re in was kitchen.”

“Nonsense,” said Denham. “It was a temple, and that was the altar.”

“Wouldn’t want a chimbley to a temple, would they, sir?”

“Chimney?” I said. “Where?”

“Yonder, sir. Goes back a bit, and then turns up. You can see the light shining down.”

“Yes,” I said, as we stepped close up to the supposed altar; “that must have been a chimney.”

“That’s right enough,” said Denham sharply. “Burnt sacrifices, of course. This place was covered in once, and that chimney was to carry off the smoke. But there, let’s get on. We’re not finding water. Is it dark through this doorway?”

Inspection proved that it was rather dark; but the absence of stones in the roof enabled us to see our way without a match. At the end of ten feet of narrow passage, whose floor was very much scored and broken up, there was a square opening similar to that which we had passed before entering the so-called temple.

“I shouldn’t be surprised if that hole communicates with the first,” I said.

“Pretty well sure to,” said Denham. “Here, sergeant, fetch one of those square bits of stone that lay by the other.”

Briggs stepped back, and returned with a curious-looking and roughly squared piece of stone, handing it to Denham for throwing down; but as he took it I checked him.

“Don’t throw that,” I said; “it has been chiselled out, and is curious. It may show who the people were that did all this.”

“Humph! Maybe,” said Denham. “Take it back, Sergeant, and bring us another.”

Briggs went back and fetched another block.

“This here’s the same, sir,” he said, “and cut out deeper, as if to fit on something.”

“Yes, that’s more perfect,” I said. “Throw the first one down.”

“Seems a pity,” said Denham, looking first at one block and then the other. “They are curious; why, they look as if some one had tried to chisel out a hand-barrow on a flat piece of stone.”

“Yes, sir,” said Briggs gruffly, “or one o’ them skates’ eggs we used to find on the seashore at home in Mount’s Bay.”

“Look here,” I said, kicking at the flooring and loosening a shaley piece of stone about as big as my hand; “I’ll throw this down.”

I pitched the piece into the darkness below, and we listened for it to strike, but listened in vain for a few seconds, and then:

Plosh!

“Water!” I cried. “Why, we’ve found the well.”

“Hurrah!” cried Denham; “well done us!” and he stepped back to where I had kicked out the piece of broken stone, and was about to throw another piece down, when, as the light from above fell upon it, I snatched it from his hand.

“Don’t do that,” he cried angrily. “I want to judge how deep the place is.”

“Don’t throw that,” I said huskily.

“Why not?”

“It isn’t a well.”

“What is it, then?”

“Look at this piece of stone,” I said, and I held the under part upward so that the light fell upon two or three scale-like grains and a few fine yellowish-green threads which ran through it. “It’s an ancient mine, and this is gold.”

“Right!” cried Denham excitedly. “Then that old place back there with the chimney is the old smelting-furnace.”

“Right you are, gentlemen,” cried Briggs, slapping his thigh; “and I know what those two hand-barrow stones are. I’ve seen one like ’em before.”

“What?” I said eagerly.

“Moulds, sir, as the old people used to pour the melted stuff in. They used to do it near my old home in Cornwall, only the metal there was tin.”

Chapter Eighteen.

The Old Folks Work.

“Then this isn’t a well, after all,” said Denham, who seemed struck with wonderment.

“No,” I said excitedly, as all kinds of Aladdin-like ideas connected with wealth began to run through my mind; “but there’s water in it, and it will serve us as a well.”

“Yes, of course,” cried Denham. “I say, you two have made a discovery.” Then he lit a match, got it well in a blaze, and let it drop down the square shaft, when it kept burning till, at about a hundred feet below us, it went out with a faint hiss, which told that it had reached the water.

“It’ll do for a well, sir,” said Briggs; “and I wouldn’t mind getting down it at the end of a rope. I’ve done it before now, when a well’s been rather doubtful, and we’ve had to burn flares down it to start the foul air. That hole’s as clear as can be.”

“How do you know?” said Denham.

“By the way that match burned till it reached the water, sir. If the air down there had been foul it would have been put out before it reached the surface.”

“But there will be no need for you to go down, sergeant,” I said. “We can reach the water with a few tether ropes.”

“To get the water—yes, my lad,” said the sergeant, with a queer screwing up of his face; “but I was thinking about the gold.”

“Oh, we’ve no time to think of gold,” said Denham shortly. “But I say, Val, isn’t this all a mistake? Who could have built such a place and worked for gold—making a mine like this?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “unless it was the ancient traders who used to go to Cornwall in their ships to get tin.”

“What! the Phoenicians?” said Denham.

“Yes,” I said. “They were big builders too. They built Tyre and Sidon.”

“Val,” cried my companion, slapping me on the shoulder, “you’ve hit it right on the head. They were the builders. We know they went to Scilly and Cornwall for tin. They must have come here for gold.”

“Oh no,” I said. “They could sail from Tyre and Sidon, keeping within sight of land all the way along the Mediterranean, through the Straits of Gibraltar, and then up the coasts of Spain and France, and across to our country; but they couldn’t sail here.”

“Well, not all the way; but I can recollect enough of the map to know that they’d most likely have ships at the top of the Red Sea, and could coast down from there till they got somewhere about Delagoa Bay or Durban, and gradually travel across country till they got here.”

“Rather a long walk,” I said.

“Long walk? Of course; but it was done by the people in the course of hundreds of years perhaps—settlers who came into the country after its products. There, I believe it, and we must have made a find. Here, come back and let’s have a look at the old furnace and chimney.”

We went back, and were soon satisfied that we had the right idea. On further examination we found that some of the stones were calcined, and at a touch crumbled into exceedingly fine dust; while one corner at the back—below the chimney opening, where it was a good deal broken—showed signs of intense heat, the face of one angle being completely glazed, the stone being melted into a kind of slag like volcanic glass.

“Oh, there’s not a bit of doubt about it,” cried Denham. “What do you say, Sergeant?”

“Not a bit o’ doubt about it, sir. I’ve seen smelting-furnaces enough our way for copper and tin, and this might have been one of such places, made by old-fashioned folks who didn’t know so much as we know now. It’s an old smelting-shop for certain; but I don’t see as we’ve anything to shout about.”

“What!” cried Denham; “when we’ve made a discovery like this? Are you mad?”

“Not as I knows on, sir. It’s only like coming to a corner of the beach at home and finding a heap of oyster-shells.”

“What do you mean?” said Denham angrily.

“Why, sir, it only shows as there was oysters there once, and that somebody came and dredged them, opened ’em, and ate ’em, and left the shells behind. Here’s the shell, plain enough; but the old Tyre and Sidems, as you call ’em, took away all the gold, sure enough. Trust ’em!”

“What!” cried Denham, laughing. “Is it likely? Here’s a gold-mine, sure enough; but if there’s one here, don’t you think there must be plenty more places in this country where people could dig down and get gold?”

“May be, sir,” said Briggs, scratching his ear.

“Is there only one tin-mine in Cornwall, Sergeant?” I said.

“Only one tin-mine in Cornwall!” cried Briggs in disgust. “Whatcher talking about? Why, the country’s full of ’em. You find tin wherever you like to cut down to one kind o’ rock as is what they call quartz, and where there’s tin in it there’s a lot o’ red powder as well; and when you break a bit there’s the tin, all in pretty little black shiny grains. Oh, there’s plenty o’ tin in Cornwall, only it costs a lot to dig and blast it out o’ the mine.”

“So you may depend upon it there’s plenty of gold here, sergeant,” said Denham, taking the piece of stone I had picked up and holding it out to the sergeant. “There’s a specimen of the ore, and I’ll be bound to say there’s tons of it to be found.”

“Humph!” said the Sergeant, examining the piece of stone; “p’r’aps them bits o’ threads and them scrappy bits may be gold; but if you broke that up and melted it, the gold you’d get would be such a tiny bead that it wouldn’t be worth taking away.”

“Perhaps not,” said Denham, giving me a look; “but there’d be a good-sized bead out of a ton. The ancient miners didn’t work for nothing, I’ll be bound. But come along; we’ve found what we were looking for, and—”

He stopped short, for just then a shot was fired, which made us start on our return along the narrow passage.

“Mind the hole,” I shouted to Denham, who was first.

“Jingo!” he cried, “I’d forgotten it;” and he made a bound which took him clear, proving that I had spoken just in time.

Before we were out into the wider passage open to the sky, three or four more shots rang out, followed by a volley, and then there was a cheer.

“Ahoy, there!” cried Denham, hailing the men on the top of the outer wall. “What is it—enemy come on?”

“Eh? Oh, it’s you, sir,” cried one of our troopers, looking down. “Yes, and no. Enemy, but not the Boers.”

“What do you mean?” cried Denham sharply.

“Troop of those baboons got together and making a rush, barking like a pack of dogs, at our fellows out yonder among the rocks. They had to give ’em a few pills to scatter ’em. The savage little beasts have gone off now.”

“I thought we were going to be out of a fight,” said Denham to me as we quickly retraced our steps, to make our way to the Colonel, whom we found at last in the court amongst the horses, talking anxiously to a knot of officers.

“Oh, there you are, Mr Denham,” said the Colonel as we went up. “I was beginning to think you’d come to grief. I could have searched the place half-a-dozen times over by now. You’ve come to say there’s no water, of course?”

“No, sir; I’ve found plenty.”

“What!” cried the Colonel, whose whole manner changed in an instant. “You’ve found plenty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Splendid news, my dear boy. There, I forgive you for being long,” he added good-humouredly. “The horses want a drink badly. Show the men where to lead them at once.”

“My news is not so good as that, sir. It’s hard to get.”

“What! At the bottom of a well?”

“Of a well-like place; and I think there’s an ample supply.”

“See to getting ropes, Sergeant,” said the Colonel, “and—we have no buckets with us?”

“No, sir; but there’s a couple of those zinc-lined nose-bags in the troop.”

“Capital. They’ll do. Take what men you want, and set to work drawing water at once. You must try and clear out some hollow among the stones near the mouth of the well, so that the horses can be led to drink as fast as the men can haul the water up.”

I was in the party told off to help; and the first thing to be done was to find the nearest part of the court to the interior building where the mine-shaft was. It proved to be an easier task than we anticipated. What was better, we came upon a pile of stones in one corner, close up to the wall, which looked as if they had been heaped up there by hand for some reason or another; and they attracted me so that I drew Denham’s attention to them, and told him what I thought.

“You’re right,” he said. “Here, half-a-dozen of you, come and help.”

He was about to set the men to work to drag the stones away; but I proposed that the tethering raw-hide ropes of two of the horses should be attached to their saddles and the ends made fast to the great rough slabs of stone. This was done, and the horses set to draw, when one by one a dozen massive pieces were drawn aside, leaving a little opening, through which I dropped a stone, with the result that those who listened heard a deep-sounding plosh! and set up a cheer. Then other two slabs were dragged away, to lay bare a roughly squared hole six feet across, from which the water could be easily drawn up.

“That communicates with our shaft, then?” said Denham to me in a questioning tone.

“No doubt,” I said. “I dare say there are tunnels running in several directions. Did you tell the Colonel about the gold?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “He thinks a good deal more about the water now than he would do about gold. But, I say, do you think it will be good drinking-water?”

“Certainly,” I said. “Gold isn’t copper.”

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I found that out a long time ago. I never could do anything like so much with a penny as I could with a sov.—Here, Sergeant,” he cried as the first water-bag was pulled up, dripping, and with the sound of the water that fell back echoing musically with many repetitions underground, in what seemed to be a vast place. “Water good?”

“Beautiful, sir. Clear as crystal and cold as ice.”

“Then I’ll have a taste,” said the Colonel, coming up. “Excellent!” he continued, after taking a deep draught from the portable cup he took from his pocket. “Now, what are you going to do?”

“Keep on pouring it into that hollow among the stones, sir,” said Denham, pointing to a little depression. Into this one of our makeshift bags was emptied, and the impromptu trough proved quite suitable.

Then the men worked away at lowering and raising the nose-bag buckets, drawing up sufficient in a few minutes for watering half-a-dozen horses at a time.

While this was progressing the Colonel returned from where he had been inspecting the top of the wall, and rearranging the men so as to take the greatest advantage of our position, to make sure the Boers could not break in through the weakest spot—the opening where the wall had fallen.

“Ha!” he said to Denham and me, “you two deserve great credit for hunting out the old underground tank of this ancient fortress. Now, with plenty of provisions and fodder for the horses, we might hold this place for any length of time. I think the General ought to know of it, and place two or three companies of foot here. I see that good shelter might be contrived by drawing some wagon-sheets across the top of these double walls.”

“Yes, sir—easily,” said Denham. “As you say, there would be no horses to keep if the place were held by foot.”

“Exactly,” said the Colonel, who seemed much interested in the drawing of the water, and listened intently to the echoes of the splashing from the impromptu buckets. “Why, Denham, that tank seems to be of great size; quite a reservoir, and tremendously deep.”

“It is, sir,” said Denham dryly; “only it isn’t a tank.”

“What is it, then—a well?”

“No, sir: a gold-mine,” said Denham in a low tone.

The Colonel looked at him sternly, and then smiled.

“Oh, I see. Metaphorical,” he said. “Yes, to thirsty folk a perfect gold-mine. Liquid gold—eh?”

“You don’t understand me, sir,” said Denham quietly. “I was not speaking in a figurative way, but in plain, downright English. That really is part of an ancient gold-mine, in which the water has collected in course of time.”

“Really? Are you sure?” said the Colonel.

“Yes, sir,” replied Denham. Then in a few words he told the Colonel that we had discovered two shafts within the walls, as well as the old furnace-house and the ingot-moulds.

“You astound me,” said the Colonel. “Here, come along and let me see.”

He followed Denham, and I went too, as one of the discoverers. The Colonel examined everything with the utmost interest.

“Not a doubt about it,” he said at last. “You two lads have made a most curious discovery. It may be valuable or worthless; but here it is. I think that, besides being a splendidly strong place for a base, it is otherwise worth holding.”

“You feel sure it is an old gold-mine, then, sir?”

“Undoubtedly, and it must have been of great value. This explains why it was made a favourite station by the ancient settlers who discovered the riches on the spot. I’ve heard rumours of old workings about here in the veldt; but I never thought much about them, or that they were of any consequence. I shall begin to think now that we must fight harder than ever to hold this part of the country. Which of you two made the discovery?”

“Both of us,” said Denham. “No; Moray first stumbled upon the hole there.”

“We were together,” I said quietly; “and Sergeant Briggs helped.”

“I didn’t see much of his help,” said Denham dryly. “We pushed, and he did the grunting.”

“You shall have the credit of the discovery, never fear,” said the Colonel, “and your share of the profit, if there is any; but we have something else to think about now. Come up here; I want to see how our enemies are going on.”

He led the way back to the walls, and we followed him to the highest part of our fortress. The strength of the place seemed to explain a great deal, suggesting, as it did, that the builders must have had good reasons for the tremendous labour expended in making the place the stronghold it must have been.

“Ah,” said the Colonel, shading his eyes and gazing over the walls at the rocky part of the kopje, “I don’t want to be unmerciful; but I’m afraid we must clear the rocks of the enemy.”

“The apes?” said Denham.

“Yes; the vicious little brutes have bitten two of the men; but they had to pay for it, for three were killed and I don’t know how many wounded before the pack was driven off. You should both be well on the lookout when wandering about, and ready to use your revolvers, for the apes have steel-trap jaws, and muscles nearly as strong. It is astounding the strength there is in an ape.”

“But if you come to the question of strength, sir,” said Denham, “it seems to me that everything in nature is stronger than a man. Look at insects.”

“No, thank you, Mr Denham,” said the Colonel sarcastically. “I have something else to look at, and no time to listen to your lesson on natural history. Some evening, perhaps, when there is no danger, and I am sipping my coffee over a quiet pipe, I shall be happy to listen to you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Denham.

“Is that meant to be sarcastic, my dear boy?” said the Colonel, laughing.

“Oh no, sir,” said Denham in an ill-used tone.

“I say ‘Oh yes.’ But I didn’t mean to snub one of my smartest officers.—Well, Moray, this is another reason for giving you your stripes. Work away, my lad, and master all your drill. I would promote you directly; but it would seem too much like favouritism in the eyes of your seniors. You may rest assured that I am not forgetting you.”

“I am quite satisfied, sir,” I said warmly. “Every one treats me more as a friend than as the latest recruit.”

“I’m glad of it, and that Mr Denham here seems to look upon you as a companion—a brother-in-arms, I ought to say.”

“Yet I’ve a lot of trouble with him, sir,” said Denham mockingly. “He’s a very impudent young brother-in-arms sometimes.”

The Colonel made no reply, but took his field-glass from its case, and sat down on the highest point of the old fortress, while he proceeded carefully to examine the country round, dropping a word or two about his observations from time to time.

“The Boers seem as if they mean to stop,” he said softly, and there was a pause as he swept the horizon with his glass. “A good twelve hundred men if there’s one,” then came, and he had another good long look. “Let it stand at twelve hundred,” he muttered; “but I believe there are more.” There was another pause. “Take some grass to keep all those horses,” he muttered—“that is, if they stay.” Another pause. “Be next door to madness to try to cut our way through them.”

“Yes, sir,” said Denham.

“I beg your pardon, Mr Denham,” said the Colonel, lowering his glass to look at my companion.

“Beg pardon, sir; I thought you spoke,” replied Denham, and he cocked his eye comically at me as the Colonel renewed his observations.

“They evidently mean to stay; and if we made a rush for it, every man would be down upon his chest delivering such a deadly fire as I dare not expose my poor, fellows to.”

“No, sir,” said Denham to me silently—that is to say, he made a round “O” with his mouth, and then shaped the word “sir” as one would in trying to speak to a deaf and dumb person.

“They’d empty half our saddles, and kill no end of horses,” continued the Colonel, as he kept on sweeping the plain with his glass.

There was a long pause now; and then, still speaking in the same low, distinct voice, and without doubt under the impression that he was only expressing his thoughts in silence: “That’s it,” he said at last, as if he had quite come to a decision as to the course he must pursue. “In the dark. A quiet walk till we are discovered by their outposts, and then gallop and get through them. Say to-morrow night, when the horses are well rested.”

Another pause, during which Denham shook his head violently. Then: “No. The poor horses would be hungry. It will have to be to-night. Let me see; there is no moon. Yes, it must be to-night.”

Click! went the field-glass as it was closed, and at the same moment the Colonel turned, to see Denham nodding his head violently at me in acquiescence with our chief’s remarks, but in profound ignorance, till he saw my eyes, of the fact that the Colonel was watching him curiously; then he met the Colonel’s glance, and blushed like a girl.

“Don’t do that, Mr Denham. You’ll injure your spine.”

“Oh!” went Denham’s mouth, and he stamped his foot, as the Colonel walked away—both movements, of course, in silence.

“There,” said the Colonel loudly, as if for us both to hear; “I don’t think I need try to see any more. Ha!” he ejaculated as, with a sharp movement, he began to open and focus his glass again, and looking towards the west for some time. “Worse and worse. They mean to have us. I suppose they look upon us as a danger that must be crushed out once and for all.”

“If they could do it, sir,” said Denham.

“They evidently mean to try, Denham,” replied the Colonel, with a sigh. “Some of us will have to bite the dust before this business is over. There’s a fresh commando of quite five hundred men coming up yonder under the sun, and before dark we shall be regularly ringed round.”

“Well, let them come, sir,” said Denham bitterly; “they can’t all hit at us at once. What you said was right.”

“What I said was right?” replied the Colonel, staring. “Why, what did I say?”

“Something about advancing to-night in the darkness; and then, as soon as we were discovered by the outposts, making a gallop for it.”

“Did I say that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not a bad plan either,” said the Colonel, his face wrinkling up.

“No, sir; just the exciting rush I love.”

“Humph!” said the Colonel. “Well, gentlemen, we may as well go down.”

“‘Well, gentlemen,’” whispered Denham to me, with a laugh, as soon as he had the opportunity. “I say, recruit—private—whatever you call yourself—why don’t you blush?”

No more was said then, as orders were given for every man to make a good meal from his haversack; and as soon as the order was passed along, the men looked at one another and began to whisper.

“We’re not going to stop here for to-night,” said one. “I had picked out my corner for a good snooze.”

“The Colonel was afraid the ruin would be too draughty for us, and didn’t wish to see his boys getting up in the morning with stiff necks,” said another; and plenty of laughing and banter went on amongst the men, who in all probability would be engaged in a deadly struggle before many hours had passed.

I thought of this for a time, and I ate my bread and cold salt pork slowly and without appetite, for the thoughts of the pleasant old farm came back; and I began to wonder how father and Bob were, and what Aunt Jenny would be thinking about. Then, between the mouthfuls, a vision of Joeboy’s black face and grinning white teeth seemed to rise up; and I fell to thinking how disappointed he would be when he returned from the foraging expedition to find that the corps had been suddenly called out.

“Poor old Joeboy!” I thought to myself; “it’s a pity father didn’t keep him at home. It would be horrible if he were to be shot by the Boers.” But I was eating again heartily soon, the conversation of the men taking up my attention, for they were discussing what was to be done that evening.

“It’s only a reconnaissance,” said one. “We’re going to give the Doppies a stir-up to show them we’re ‘all alive, oh!’”

“Nonsense,” said another. “We shan’t do anything; the Colonel don’t care about working in the dark.”

“That’s right,” said another voice. “It would be absurd to move from such a strong place as this. Why, we could laugh at twice as many as they could bring against us.”

“Don’t you talk nonsense, my lads,” said a familiar voice which made me turn my head sharply.

“Who’s talking nonsense, Sergeant?” said one of the troopers.

“The man who spoke,” was the reply. “What’s the good of a strong place like this to us if we’ve got no provisions for selves and horses?”

“The horses might be driven out to graze under the fire of our rifles.”

“How long would the scanty grass round here last? No: the chief’s right enough, and as soon as it’s dark the orders will come, ‘Boot and saddle.’ We’ve got to cut our way through that mob of Dutchmen to-night.”

“Oh, very well,” said one of the men who had not yet spoken; “this is rather a dreary sort of place, so by all means let us cut.”

The men grew very quiet afterwards as the twilight began to fall, and I noticed that most of them, after finishing their meal and getting a draught of water freshly drawn up out of the old mine, walked up to their horses and began to make much of them, patting and smoothing, and then examining girths, bridles, and every buckle and strap.

The night was coming on fast now, and the Boers began to mingle with the haze in the distance. We saw they had filled up all the gaps between their lines, opening out till they formed a complete hedge of dismounted horsemen around our stronghold; and they looked a very formidable body of men.

“Yes,” said Denham, who had drifted to my side again, according to what had now become a custom of his—for I could not go to him—“we’re regularly ringed round, Val.”

“Yes, they’re very strong,” I said.

“No, they’re not, lad, for a ring’s very weak, and bends or breaks if it’s pushed from the inside; but if pushed from the outside it takes a deal to break it. We’ll both bend and break it to-night.”

We sat talking for a bit, and watched the Boers till they were quite invisible. Then we could do nothing but wait for orders, no one believing that any attack would be made by our mounted enemy. However, about an hour after it was quite dark an alarm was suddenly given; but every man was on the alert, and the entrances to our fort were doubly strengthened. For there was the sound of shouts and horses thundering over the plain towards the fort; and at last the order was given to fire, a sharp fusillade ringing out in the horsemen’s direction. It had its effect, for the enemy turned and galloped away, the sounds of their retreat rapidly dying out; and all seemed quiet till one of the defenders of the gap in the wall challenged, with the customary “Halt! or I fire!”