Chapter Nine.
A Dash for Kimberley.
“Well, Jack, what do you think of doing now?” asked Mrs Hunter, as soon as the incidents of Talana Hill and Elandslaagte had been narrated. “Do you intend to do as you had arranged, or will you stay here? I have already put my name down as a nurse, and Wilfred is longing to accompany you to Kimberley, or wherever you decide to go. A letter reached us yesterday from Mr Hunter, in which he says he is to be allowed to remain for the present at Johannesburg, but for how long he cannot tell. Wilfred is to do as he likes, he writes, and since every loyal man in the colony is needed, I will not attempt to dissuade him from joining the troops. England is fighting for freedom and peace, but also for the Uitlander population, and in my opinion every one of those capable of bearing arms should help in the good work.”
“I am going straight up to Kimberley, Mrs Hunter,” Jack replied, “and have already taken a passage to Port Elizabeth, whence I shall go by train as far as De Aar, if that is possible. Once I reach that place I shall ride during the night, and endeavour to slip into the town. Of course the Boers are all round it by now, but others I have no doubt will be able to slip in and out, and I mean to do the same, and once there I shall volunteer as a despatch-rider. It will be exciting work, and suited to my tastes, and the fact that I know the country well all round, and between Kimberley and Mafeking, will help me considerably. If Wilfred likes to come, we will make the attempt at slipping in together, but after that he will have to stay in the town till it is relieved.”
“That will suit me, Jack, old chap,” Wilfred replied eagerly. “The garrison is not likely to sit down and do nothing. There will certainly be exciting times, sorties and so on, and I should like to join in it all. When shall we start?”
“The ship sails in three days, Wilfred. We will telegraph down for a berth for you. By the way, you will want a good mount. One pony will be sufficient.”
“Then I am already set up,” said Wilfred. “Our friends here told me they could let me have a reliable pony whenever I liked to ask for him. Since coming down here I have obtained a complete campaigning kit and a Lee-Metford rifle and bayonet. So I am ready to set off just whenever you like.”
Three days later, therefore, the two lads—or rather, young fellows they should be called, for both stood well above five feet nine inches in their boots, and were broad-shouldered and muscular in proportion—set out for Durban, and having embarked there, arrived in due course at Port Elizabeth, having had a pleasant sail.
An hour after landing they were in the train, and after many long stops and tedious delays arrived at De Aar, a town where there was a small force of troops, and which was likely before long to be a station of some importance, for it was filled with vast military stores, and truck-loads were still arriving.
Here they learned that the Boers had already crossed the Orange River and were invading Cape Colony.
Jack and Wilfred took up their quarters for the night at a small hotel, and having washed, and enjoyed a hearty meal, they lit up their pipes and strolled through the town.
Then they returned, and were chatting with the owner of the hotel when a stranger, to all appearance an English colonist, entered, and without invitation joined in the conversation.
“Warm evening, landlord!” he exclaimed. “The kind of evening that makes one thirsty! Let me have a bottle of something good, and perhaps these gentlemen will join me. All Englishmen are comrades in these times.”
Jack and his friend were naturally surprised, but they had already experienced that sense of brotherhood in the colony now that war had commenced, and rather than offend the stranger they consented to join him, with an expression of their thanks. A moment later the landlord returned with the liquor, and as he placed it on the table and prepared to draw the cork of the bottle which contained it, deliberately nudged Jack, and nodded significantly at the stranger, whose back happened to be turned. Jack was puzzled, but passed on the nudge to Wilfred; then the three sat down and chatted. For half an hour the stranger plied his two guests with all sorts of seemingly careless questions, casually asking them where they were going, and whether they belonged to the volunteers. But the nudge the landlord had given had warned Jack and his friend to be on the alert, and to all the questions they gave incomplete or totally incorrect answers. Then the stranger left, and the landlord came from behind his counter and explained the mystery.
“I don’t know what you two are here for, or where you are going,” he said, “and if you will take my advice you will keep everyone you meet in the same ignorance. That fine chap is a Boer spy, paid with Pretoria gold, and I can tell you this whole colony holds heaps more like him. So my advice is, keep all your own affaire to yourself. Supposing you two wanted to get into Kimberley, and had told him so, thinking him to be a colonist, as he certainly looks, he’d have set the Boers on your trail, and you’d find yourselves prisoners before you could look round.”
Jack and Wilfred took the warning to heart. They had heard that spies were to be found everywhere, even in England itself, so lavishly had the Transvaallers spent their money, and so carefully had they prepared their plans. But they had never met one before, and to find him in the guise of a loyal colonist was a surprise, though, if they had only given the matter a thought, they would have seen that that was the most probable appearance he would assume.
On the following morning Jack and his friend paid their bill and rode off from the hotel.
“I vote we go in the opposite direction from Kimberley, and take the road for Hanover,” said the former as they trotted out of the yard. “That spy may be somewhere about. Yes, there he is! Good-day to you!” he shouted. “We’re off. See you to-night, perhaps.”
The stranger shouted back “Good-day!” and watched them ride out of the town.
“Now he’ll sneak off to the hotel and ask the landlord whether we are coming back,” laughed Wilfred, “and I’ll be bound our friend will answer that we are. Well, we ought to get away from him easily enough. Look, Jack! there are two other fellows riding ahead of us. Let us slip into this farm and hide up in an outhouse. If he really is a spy he will follow before long, and we will let him pass and slip off in the opposite direction.”
Accordingly they turned into the farm, and having entered a cattle kraal which was close to the road, they glued their eyes to the chinks between the boulders of the wall, and waited to see what would happen. Five minutes later there was a sound of galloping hoofs, and to the intense delight of Jack and Wilfred, their host of the previous evening clattered past, with his gaze fixed on the two distant horsemen, who were now almost out of sight.
A little later they emerged from the kraal, and, crossing the road, cantered off across the veldt in the direction of Kimberley. For ten miles they kept on without a halt. Then they drew aside from the road to Hope Town, which they had lately followed, and bivouacked in a dense copse of eucalyptus-trees.
“Now, Wilfred,” said Jack, “out with that piece of beef we brought with us. I’ll get a fire alight, and we’ll have a good meal. Probably it is the last good one we shall be able to eat for some time, and cooking it will help to pass the hours between this and nightfall. We’ll push on then, and we shall have to go carefully, for there are numbers of Boers hereabouts.”
Wilfred at once opened his haversack, while Jack gathered a few twigs and lit a fire between some boulders. Slices of beef were cut, and having been toasted in front of the blaze, were placed on pieces of bread and eaten with great relish. Then they lit up their pipes and smoked, one or other of them occasionally getting up to have a good look round.
Late in the afternoon Jack sighted some horsemen, and as these might be a party of the enemy, the fire was trampled out, and the two crawled to the edge of the trees and looked out. The road ran within twenty feet of them, and very soon ten men, who were undoubtedly Boers, passed by them, laughing, and evidently quite unconscious of the presence of two of the hated Rooineks. And in the centre of the group of horsemen was the English colonist who had made himself so agreeable to them the night before.
“Ah! there is no doubt about his being a scoundrel,” whispered Jack. “Well, we shall know what to do if we meet him in an English town after this; and if I happen to ride this way with despatches I shall certainly call at De Aar and warn them there. Now I think we may as well take it in turns to have a sleep. We’ll start again at nightfall and cover about fifty miles. Then we’ll lie up in a quiet spot I know of, and the following night we ought to get through to Kimberley.”
“All right, Jack! you turn in, and I’ll take the first watch,” answered Wilfred jovially. “I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”
Accordingly Jack lay down, and, like a hardened campaigner, fell asleep at once. Two hours afterwards Wilfred took his turn, and after a short nap was awakened. Then, saddling their ponies, they turned out of the eucalyptus-trees and started on their long ride.
Before dawn they were securely hidden in a donga, in the midst of a group of small but steep boulder-strewn kopjes, and there, feeling secure from observation, they lay down in their blankets beneath the shade of a huge rock and fell asleep.
When darkness fell again they proceeded on their journey, and a few hours later swam their ponies across the Modder River. It was risky work, but to have attempted to cross by the railway-bridge or at the drift (ford) would have led to certain discovery, for both places were closely watched by the Boers. Instead of that, they had made a wide détour, and crossed at a bend in the river where the stream ran very slowly. Then they turned their faces towards Kimberley, and pressed forward, hoping to reach the beleaguered town an hour or more before daylight.
They were now in a country overrun by Boers, and they therefore rode in silence, with their bayonets fixed and the magazines of their rifles filled, but without a cartridge in the breech, for the accidental pressure on a trigger might easily have betrayed them. Five miles farther on, the flash of the search-light caught their eyes as it slowly swept a broad beam across the veldt surrounding the town.
“Turn to the left—quick!” whispered Jack. “Now get in under this boulder. It would never do to stand out in the open. That light would show us up at once.”
A minute or two later the electric beam had passed by, and they pushed on once more.
“That is Frank Russel’s farm over there,” said Jack, a quarter of an hour later, as a house loomed up on their left. “He is evidently standing by his property, and trusting to the Boers to leave him alone, for you can see the lights in his windows—Hold on a moment, Wilfred! What was that? I thought I heard shouts.”
“Sounds to me like a concert or something of the sort going on,” answered Wilfred, pulling up alongside Jack and listening intently. “Yes, I’m sure of it; there are a lot of fellows singing together.”
“Then they must be Boers, Wilfred! Frank Russel is an oldish man, steady and quiet, and he would never think of entertaining a party of rowdies, especially if they belonged to the enemy. He held a good position at home, but something caused him to come out here with his wife, where he has lived for about twenty years, cattle-ranching and farming. Tom Salter and I have had a cup of tea with him many a time. His wife is dead, and he has a rather pretty daughter, who runs the home for him. I wonder what is going on over there? Frank is loyal to the backbone, and would never think of harbouring one of England’s enemies.”
“Ho, ho! There’s a girl there, and a pretty one too, is there, Jack?” Wilfred chuckled. “Well, if you think that something is happening to them we may as well go over and investigate.”
“Just what I think, Wilfred. I don’t like the look of things. Either Frank has changed his mind and gone into Kimberley with Eileen, or the Boers are ill-treating them. Keep close beside me, and we’ll see what’s up. I know every foot of the ground round here, and will see that we do not fall into a trap.”
Jack at once touched his pony with his heel, and in absolute silence the two moved forward towards the farmhouse. It consisted of one small building, surrounded by a neat English flower-garden, and lying isolated in the middle of the veldt, the outhouses and sheds for cattle being at least a mile away.
As they rode up to it on the soft noiseless turf, the sound of uproarious singing became louder, and was interrupted by bursts of hoarse laughter.
“Hold on to my ponies,” whispered Jack, when they had reached the edge of the garden. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve seen what is going on.”
Slipping to the ground, he passed the reins to Wilfred, and, climbing the iron railing which fringed the garden, stole across the beds towards the house. At the door a number of ponies were standing, knee-haltered, and picking the grass from the borders of the garden. Jack got close up to them and made sure that they were animate belonging to the Boers. Then he crept up to one of the windows, and peered in beneath the blind, which was only partly drawn.
The sight which met his eyes caused him to give a start, while an exclamation of anger escaped his lips, for Jack was a kind-hearted lad, and to see anyone wantonly inflicting pain upon a fellow-being, or indeed upon any dumb animal, was hateful to him, and doubly so when, as in this case, it was a helpless girl who was being tormented.
As he looked into the room, which was lit by a hanging lamp, he saw Eileen Russel standing, violin in hand, in the opposite corner, the very picture of terror, grief, and despair, playing an air which had been popular in Johannesburg a few months before; while, seated round a table, in all sorts of attitudes, were ten men, shouting the chorus in a mixture of Dutch and English which grated on his ear.
Jack watched them closely, and recognised with another start that the man in the centre, leaning back in his chair, with his legs upon the table, was none other than the dapper English colonist who had questioned them so closely at De Aar.
Satisfied with his inspection, he slipped back again, and a moment or two later stood by Wilfred’s side.
“We’re going to stop here for a little while,” he said shortly. “There’s a bit of bullying going on over there. Bring the ponies round into the garden, and we’ll tie them up at the back of the house.”
Wilfred looked searchingly at his friend, but recognising from the resolute tone that Jack meant every word he said, he sent the ponies ahead, and soon had them at the back of the farmhouse.
“Look here, Wilfred,” said Jack brusquely, as soon as the animals were fastened to the rails, “there’s a scandalous piece of business going on in there. That spy fellow from De Aar is chief of the gang of Boers, who are ill-treating Eileen Russel. She and her father have shown me many a kindness, and I am going to repay it. There are ten of them altogether. If you don’t like the job you can slip outside and wait till I’ve done with them.”
“Of course I like it,” Wilfred whispered back indignantly. “Shut up, Jack! If there’s a row on, of course I shall help you!”
“Then, come along, but don’t do anything till I give the word.”
Stealing across to the window, they raised their heads and looked in, to find the Boers in much the same position, except that most of them were drinking the contents of long tumblers of whisky and water, which “Tim”, a faithful Zulu servant of the Russels, had just placed in front of them. Eileen had stopped her playing, and stood in her corner looking like a hunted animal, while tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Here, you black animal! Go and fetch me some more drink,” shouted the Boer leader at this moment. “Do you hear? Get away with you! Now, Miss—what’s your name, play ‘God Save the Queen!’ You’ll not have many opportunities of doing so after this, for England’s going to the wall, and that old tune will soon be forgotten. Now then, strike up, and let it be sharp and merry.”
The spy gave vent to a coarse laugh, shouted once more at the trembling girl, and gulped down a glass of spirit which “Tim” placed close to his hand at that moment.
But, like her father, this delicate English girl was loyal-hearted and true to her beloved queen and country. Her head, which had drooped before this, was now held proudly erect in the air; she faced her tormentors steadily, and in a voice which scarcely quivered, refused to play any more for them.
“No,” she said firmly, “I will not play our national anthem for you. You would only jeer at it, like the cowards you are. One of these days you and all your countrymen shall be proud to call yourselves subjects of our queen, and will sing in all earnestness that sacred song you now ask me to play!”
“None of your threats! Do as you’re told!” snarled the Boer leader angrily. “It will be many a long year before your queen claims a single one of us as a subject; but let me tell you, miss, it will be only a very few minutes before this ugly-looking thing does you a mischief, if you refuse to play ‘God Save the Queen’!”
As he spoke the villain snatched a Mauser pistol from his belt and held it pointed at Eileen’s head.
Jack’s teeth ground together, and, quickly slipping a cartridge into his rifle, he covered the Boer leader, and was on the point of pressing the trigger when Tim, the gallant Zulu boy, his eyes glaring with rage, rushed at the man and struck him from his chair. He was seized at once, and held in front of the villain who had dared to threaten Eileen, who again lifted his Mauser, placed the muzzle against the poor fellow’s head, and held it there a moment, so as to prolong the agony of fear, ere he pressed the trigger and sent Tim to his last account.
That pause proved the latter’s salvation, while to the Boer it meant a sudden death. Jack, who had kept him covered, thrust the end of his rifle through the glass and fired, dropping the villain in his tracks. Then shouting: “Give it to them, boys!” he opened his magazine and poured a hail of shot into the house, taking care to miss Tim and Eileen Russel.
Startled by the shot and alarmed by Jack’s shout, which seemed to show that there were many there besides himself, the Boers started to their feet and rushed through the door. A minute later they were flying away across the veldt, leaving four of their number lying dead upon the floor of the farmhouse.
Jack and Wilfred at once ran round to the door, which stood wide open, and stepped in.
“Don’t be frightened, Eileen,” said the former soothingly. “Those cowards have bolted, and you are safe for a time at least. What has happened to your father?”
“Ah! is that you, Jack Somerton?” the poor girl asked in a dreamy way, as if she were not quite certain that her eyes had told her correctly—“Jack Somerton, the young Englishman who used to come here with our old friend Tom Salter?”
“Yes, it’s Jack all right, Eileen,” he replied. “Now tell me how those villains happened to find you here alone.”
Eileen Russel stepped forward from her corner, and, grasping Jack by the hand, gazed searchingly into his face, as though she was still uncertain of his identity. Then she suddenly sat down in a chair, and, hiding her face in her hands, sobbed as if her heart would break. But it was merely the reaction after the terrible hour of torment she had suffered, and, cheered by a gentle pat on the back from Jack’s strong hand, she soon regained her composure and dried her eyes.
“Father is here, Jack,” she exclaimed eagerly. “He is down below in the cellar, where Tim and I hid him. He is wounded—badly, I fear. Those Boer cowards rode up here just before daylight, and ordered Father to come out and be taken before their leader. Father asked what they wanted with him, and they shouted back that this part of English territory had been annexed by the Boers, and that as an old inhabitant he was bound to fight for them now that he was no longer a subject of the queen.”
“‘Get away from here at once,’ Father shouted back, as soon as he had heard what they had to say. ‘I am a British subject, and shall be to the end. None of your republics or presidents for me! Clear off, all of you; and if one of you dares to attempt to come in I will shoot!’
“The Boers laughed at his threat, and attempted to beat in the door, but Father was as good as his word, and shot one of them at once. The others poured a volley into the house, and one of the bullets passed through the wall and wounded Father in the shoulder. Then the Boers made a rush, and began to force the door open, and as we knew that they would have little mercy for Father, Tim and I hid him away in a cellar down below, which he had constructed to keep stores and ammunition in. Then we lowered the trap-door and placed the table over it.
“They broke in a few minutes later, but, failing to find him, thought he had escaped through the window. Then they forced me to play my violin, and just as I thought they would shoot Tim or myself, the leader fell dead and the others ran for their lives.”
“Well, you are safe for the present at least,” answered Jack. “Sit down there, Eileen, and rest yourself. We will get your father up again. Those fellows will not be coming back yet awhile, so that we need not fear a surprise. Now, Wilfred and Tim, lend a hand and pull up this trap.”
A minute later the table had been removed to one side, and Jack was clambering down into the cellar, Tim lowering the lamp after him. On the boarded floor he found Frank Russel lying upon his back, and making feeble efforts to rise, for the reports of Jack’s rifle had roused him from unconsciousness.
“Where am I? What has happened?” he asked. “Hallo! is that you, Jack! Where’s Tom Salter?”
Then he suddenly remembered the Boers and sat up with a jerk.
“Ah! what has become of those brutes?” he demanded, clutching at the rifle which had been placed beside him, while his face flushed red with rage.
“Now don’t worry about them,” said Jack kindly. “They’ve bolted, and Wilfred and I arrived here just in the nick of time. Let us get you up on top and look at the wound. When that is seen to, we will discuss the situation.”
Frank Russel was still too much dazed to offer any resistance, and was soon carried up the ladder and laid on a bed. Then Jack opened up the seams of his jacket, and cut away the shirt over his left shoulder. A close inspection showed two little blue wounds, the size of a pea, one in front, and one behind where the Mauser bullet had made its exit. There had been scarcely any loss of blood, and luckily no bones broken. Eileen meanwhile had produced a basin of cold water and a soft towel, and with this they dressed the wound and bandaged the shoulder. A stiff glass of spirits pulled Frank Russel round, and now that he was over the first shock, he very quickly became himself again, for he was as hard as iron, and accustomed to the rough life of a colonist. Ten minutes later he was standing up lighting a big pipe, and even using his left hand, so little pain did his wound give him.
“Now tell me all about it, Jack Somerton,” he said, puffing big clouds of smoke into the air with the greatest satisfaction.
As soon as the brutal action of the Boer spy and his friends had been narrated, and followed by a description of their flight, Frank Russel sprang to his feet and shook Jack and Wilfred heartily by the hand.
“My lads,” he said in a husky, trembling voice, “you’ve won the deep gratitude of old Frank Russel. I’d sooner see every Boer in Africa dead than hear that one of them had ill-treated my darling child. Ah! she’s all I have left since the wife went to her home above, and a good, dutiful, and loving girl she is! Come here, Eileen dear, and kiss your father. You’ve had a close shave, and but for these brave Englishmen that brute would have murdered you. And Tim, too, has proved a faithful boy. Well, he shall not regret it, for from this day he shall never have a fear for his old age. I will give him sufficient to ensure his independence.
“But now we have other things to think about. Kimberley is closely besieged, and though we are only five miles away we are surrounded by hosts of Boers. They will be back here soon, and then it will be all up with us.”
“Why not ride off at once?” asked Wilfred. “There are four of the Boer ponies outside, and Jack and I have our own.”
“It would be useless,” replied Frank Russel, with a vigorous shake of his head. “Those fellows have already warned the whole district, and by this time we are closely surrounded. Look away over there. That small light is their signal, and it is flashing a message in the darkness which every Boer can read. No, I fear it is all up with us. I’m sorry, lads; you two would have got in safely if you hadn’t come along in this direction and helped us in our trouble. If there was a chance of your succeeding now, I’d say go at once and leave us. But there isn’t, not the slightest, and it’s only fair to say so.”
“We must make the best of matters as they are,” remarked Jack coolly. “A week ago I was in a fix which was every bit as awkward. I’m not going to be shot or taken prisoner yet awhile if I can help it, and if you all feel the same I propose we make a fight for it.”
“Ah, I’d fight if I had a chance!” growled Frank Russel. “But it’s no use here. They would be a hundred to one against us.”
“Wait a minute, Mr Russel,” exclaimed Wilfred, who had an unbounded faith in his friend’s sagacity. “Let us hear what Jack has to say. I’m like him, and don’t mean to fall into the Boers’ hands without a struggle.”
“Ah, well! what is it, Jack?” answered Frank. “But you’d best be quick about it, for those fellows will be getting close to us by this.”
“I’ve said I am going to make a fight for it,” exclaimed Jack, “and I mean to do so, for from what I have seen and heard, our enemies have the greatest dislike to attacking in the open. It is too risky for them, and is apt to lead to fatal consequences, as I have already been compelled to show them. Now this house stands clear out on the veldt. There is not even a boulder within half a mile of us, and therefore no cover. It is true that at close quarters a Mauser bullet will pierce these walls, but at long range it will not come through. Let us make a stand here. But, first, have you plenty of cartridges, Frank?”
“Heaps, lad, heaps! ’Pon my word, I like this idea of yours! But where is it going to end? We’ve a pump and water in the house, and plenty of food and ammunition; but we cannot hope to keep them out for long, and they are certain to rush us in the darkness.”
“Yes, they will do that,” Jack agreed, “but they have got to get inside the house before they can hurt us, and we shall have something to say to that. Now before talking about the means of defence, let us send Tim off to Kimberley. He is the only one who could possibly get through. That will be our only hope. We are in the direction of the railway, and not too far from the town for a sortie to reach us. Now, Tim, will you go?”
Tim at once signified his willingness.
“Then off you go!” exclaimed Jack. “Quick! There is not a moment to be lost! When you get into the town ask for Tom Salter, and get him to take you to the ‘Baas’. Tell him what trouble we are in, and ask for help to be sent us.”
The plucky Zulu boy at once stepped to a corner of the room, snatched up an assagai with an enormous blade, and, shaking a farewell with it, darted out through the doorway.
“Jack, you’re one of the right sort!” exclaimed Frank Russel when Tim had disappeared. “I’ve looked at this idea of yours from every side. If they take us now or later on it won’t make much odds to me, for they will treat me as a rebel; while you two and Eileen will just be prisoners. We’ve a chance of beating them off till help reaches us, and so sure as I’m a true Englishman we’ll have a try at it.
“You’ve settled the matter up to this, so go on with it. I’m an older man, and perhaps more used to these fellows, but I’m sure you could beat me in slimness. Now out with it, lad, or those Boers will be on us before we are ready.”
“Very well, then,” Jack replied, “let us set to work. We must break up some of this furniture. We want a couple of hammers, a saw, and some big nails. Have you got them?”
“Yes, close handy, Jack. Eileen, fetch the bag, like a good girl, and bring the axe along.”
“Now break up the table and nail the boards across the window, Wilfred,” continued Jack. “Frank and I will see to the door. It must be firmly closed. Wait a minute, though, our ponies may be of some use to us. I will slip out and bring them in.”
Jack opened the door and ran round to the back of the house. A minute later he returned and led in the three ponies, taking them to a small kitchen. Then he brought in two of the Boer ponies, and drove the others out of the garden on to the veldt. That done, he shut the door, bolted it, and nailed two heavy uprights against it. A quarter of an hour later all the windows were firmly barricaded, a niche about three inches wide having been left between the planks through which the rifles could be pushed. Then with an auger he drilled a number of holes through the walls all round the house, driving three of them so as to form a triangle, the sides of which he completed with a chisel, thus forming apertures about five inches high and as much in breadth, which would give them a good view across the veldt.
“Now we’re ready,” he said, when all was at last completed, “and I expect we shall have the Boers here soon. Eileen, you had better go down into the cellar, I think, so as to be out of danger.”
“Thank you, Jack!” she answered calmly. “This house will require every rifle we have to defend it. I have used one many a time, and I shall stay up here and help you.”
“Brave girl, and it’s like you, dear!” exclaimed Frank Russel. “Stay if you wish, for we’ll not deny that three is a small number to garrison this place. I suppose we had better take our posts now. One at each wall will be the thing. Remember, it’s steady, quiet shooting we want, and only use the magazine when they make a rush. That will be our trouble. It wants more than three hours before we shall get daylight, and until then we shall have to trust to our ears to tell when the Boers get close to us.”
“Have you got a bell here?” Wilfred suddenly asked.
“Yes, there is one in the kitchen,” Eileen answered, “and the handle is just outside the door. We are the only colonists hereabouts who possess such a thing.”
“Then we’ll beat them yet!” cried Wilfred. “They are certain to ride into the garden through the opening in the rails. Open the door, Jack; and give me a long piece of string, someone. I’ll slip outside and run it from the bell-handle to the rails and across the opening. Then the first man who rides in will jerk it, and the bell will give us a warning.”
“Good, lad, good!” exclaimed Frank Russel with a grunt of satisfaction. “That will just save us. Set about it as quick as you can.”
Five minutes later Wilfred had carried out his plan, and not content with running a cord from the bell-handle across the opening into the garden, he passed others completely round the railings, so that anyone attempting to climb them, or pass through them, would almost certainly come in contact with one or other of the strings and warn those inside the house. Then he joined his friends again, and the door was safely nailed up as before.
About half an hour later, when the night had lifted a little, there was a faint tinkling of the bell, and Jack, who had chosen a position commanding the front of the house, caught sight of a dusky figure at the opening to the garden. His rifle spoke out instantly, and with a shriek of pain the man disappeared.
After that there was silence for many minutes, and then the bell jerked feebly once or twice, and afterwards pealed loudly.
“There are a crowd of them in front of me,” whispered Jack. “Give me a hand here, Wilfred, and leave Frank and Eileen to watch the rest.”
Wilfred at once darted across the floor, and, peering through a loophole, saw a number of dusky figures hurrying into the garden through the opening, while others suddenly appeared against the sky-line, and then became almost invisible as they climbed over the railings and jumped amongst the flowers.
“Let them have it with the magazine,” Jack whispered again, and waiting a moment for Wilfred to prepare, he aimed at a bunch of the enemy pouring into the garden, and discharged shot after shot amongst them. Meanwhile, Wilfred fired at the figures climbing the railings, while sharp reports from the side and back of the house told that Frank and Eileen were also engaged.
Once their magazines were empty, it took only a few moments to replenish them, and again they poured a stream of bullets through the loopholes.
But the Boers had already had sufficient. With shouts and shrill cries of fear they disappeared in the darkness, leaving many of their number dead or wounded in the garden.
“That will make them more careful next time,” muttered Jack. “I wonder what their next move will be!”
He had not long to wait, for almost before he had finished speaking there was a roar of musketry all round, and a hail of bullets flew through the house, piercing the walls as if they were merely composed of paper, and sending splinters flying in all directions. It was decidedly unpleasant, but all escaped by the greatest luck, the only injury sustained being a flesh wound by Jack. The bullet had passed through the calf of his leg, but so unimportant was it that a handkerchief tied round it was amply sufficient to staunch the blood which flowed, while the pain was so little that he scarcely felt it then, though later on he suffered considerably.
“Lie down, all of you!” shouted Frank at this moment. “They will be giving us another volley.”
All threw themselves on the ground close to their loopholes, through which they stared out at the veldt, which was now becoming more visible every moment.
A second later another storm of bullets tore through the house, while others struck the iron roof above, giving rise to an alarming noise. For five minutes the fusilade continued, and then suddenly ceased.
“To your posts!” cried Jack. “They will hope to have killed or wounded all of us, and will make a rush.”
Sure enough, a host of Boers now appeared in the growing light, running towards the house, and into them all four rifles poured a stream of lead, each shot of which, though hastily fired, was carefully aimed. At such close quarters it proved disastrous, and though a few of the bolder spirits amongst the enemy did manage to reach the house, the majority were either struck down or retired precipitately. For those who were attempting to kick in the door Jack’s Mauser pistol still remained, and he emptied it amongst them without pity.
At any other time the fact that he was taking human life, and sending fellow-beings to a last and sudden account, would have shocked him and filled him with lasting remorse. But now it was different. He had seen a crew of powerful men injuring and threatening a helpless girl. For that alone they deserved punishment, part of which had been summarily meted out to them. But the remainder had escaped, to return with other comrades, all enemies of the queen. They would not hesitate to take the lives of those who so gallantly defended the farmhouse, and he in turn would not spare a single one of them. Jack hardened his heart, and calmly loaded the magazines of his weapons again, in preparation for the next assault.
But they had read the Boers a severe lesson, and those of them who had escaped the hail of bullets fled from the neighbourhood of the little farmhouse, and, flinging themselves upon their ponies, galloped away across the veldt till well out of range of fire. Then they pulled up and collected together, solemnly swearing that, come what might, they would subdue those few English opposed to them, and wreak a fearful vengeance on their heads. The pluck and dauntless determination of the little band they fully recognised and admired; but they had already killed or wounded some forty or more of their brothers, and a price must be exacted for those lives.
With sullen and determined looks they parted to surround the house, while a few were despatched for reinforcements, and for guns with which to splinter the walls behind which the defenders lay.
Meanwhile Jack and his friends stood grimly at their posts, thankful for the breathing-space allowed them, and for the daylight which was fast stealing across the veldt. At last the day broke completely, leaving the plain in front of them partially obscured in a thin grey mist. But a few minutes later a golden glow lit up the eastern sky, and in course of time first a rim and then the whole of the morning sun rose above the steep spires and pinnacles of the range of mountains beyond the Vaal River, and poured a flood of warmth across the lonely veldt. Instantly the mist cleared away, and a glorious day had dawned.
“Now our first duty is to give the enemy permission to remove their dead and wounded,” exclaimed Frank. “Let us pull down one of these boards and shout to them.”
Accordingly a plank was wrenched from one of the windows, and a white flag waved through the opening. A Boer horseman at once galloped up, and, riding into the garden, reined in opposite the window.
“You can remove your dead and wounded,” said Jack, who had agreed to act as spokesman, so that Frank Russel should not appear. “Only ten of you must come for them, and on no account must anyone be armed. We will give you an hour to do the work. After that we shall fire on anyone who approaches.”
The Boer courteously expressed his thanks, and at once rode away.
Five minutes later a wagon was driven up to the railings, and the party who had come to pick up the dead and wounded entered the garden.
Those inside the house sat down at their loopholes and kept a close watch, for they had heard before of Boer treachery and slimness, and more than one incident of the abuse of the white flag had been clearly exposed during the opening days in Natal. As they watched they hastily ate a meal, and having finished looked to their rifles.
All this while the unhappy men who had been wounded were being gently conveyed to the wagons, and Jack and his friends pitied them, and admired them for their fortitude. Scarcely a groan did they utter. They bore their sufferings patiently and in silence, and won the unstinted sympathy and praise of those who, by the fortune of war, had been the cause of their trouble.
At last all were removed, the search-party retired, and the young Boer who had at first replied to the white flag trotted up to the window and once more expressed his thanks. Then he turned his horse and galloped away, leaving the four inmates of the farmhouse to resume the desperate and one-sided struggle.