It was a lovely, calm evening, early in February, that Hans, having returned from a day’s successful shooting, was sitting on the front of his waggon cleaning his gun, and describing his day’s sport to Katrine, who was engaged knitting. In all directions round them waggons were grouped, whilst large herds of cattle grazed on the surrounding hills and in the valleys. Every thing looked peaceable, and suitable for freedom and enjoyment, and each emigrant was rejoicing at the fair prospect before him.
“We shall have a large addition to our forces from the colony,” said an emigrant named Uys, as he came to Hans’ waggon and examined the fine reitbok he had brought back with him; “for the news has gone down that this country is very fine, and is full of game. Retief, too, will make good terms with Dingaan, and that will enable us to live here quietly. We have fought enough with the Amakosa and with Moselekatse; we should now grow corn.”
“Yes,” replied Hans; “I must grow corn soon and in plenty, for I shall marry in the winter, and therefore shall have two to feed.”
“Where is Victor?” inquired Uys.
“He has gone down towards the coast to see his cousin there, and to trade for a horse he wants. I hear the country down there is very fine, and elephants come into the bush every year.”
“Yes; that is the truth: there is game in plenty, and the forests contain good timber. Cess, who is this riding over the hill? He will kill his horse if he comes at that rate.”
“It is Victor,” said Hans. “Something must be wrong, or he would never ride like that, and so near home.”
As Victor approached the encampment he raised his hat and shouted, “To arms, men; to arms for your lives!” Such a cry to a people who had long had to deal with dangerous foes was not to be neglected: a rush was made to Hans’ waggon, where Victor had reined in his panting steed, and a hundred men were eagerly inquiring what was the danger.
“The whole Zulu army is upon us,” shouted Victor. “Retief and all his party are murdered. Between us and the Zulus not a Dutchman is left alive. Men, women, and children are all slain.”
Shrieks of horror from the women and cries of vengeance from the men greeted this intelligence, whilst an organised defence was hastily arranged. The waggons were brought together and formed into a square, whilst brushwood was cut to fill up the intervals. A three-pounder gun was mounted on a waggon, and pointed in the direction from which the enemy was expected. Guns and ammunition having been served out to all who could use them,—even the females tended their services as loaders of spare guns,—and the party having sent out mounted spies, they waited in momentary expectation of being attacked.