“Oh, I don’t know. Done well enough already. However, one more.”
Both Denham and his host were hard-headed men, moreover, they knew that the said “one more” wouldn’t hurt them, in view of the scheme which each and both were mutually, though tacitly, hatching.
“This is a pretty silly way of running a laager, Denham,” said Ben Halse, with infinite contempt, when the two were alone together. “Why, on the tack these boobies are going the whole of this show is in Sapazani’s hand, and we don’t want that, eh?” significantly, forgetting for the moment that the owner was outside what he and Verna were not. “I propose that we take a turn at watching outside, one each side of the scherm.”
“I was thinking just about the same thing myself,” was the answer.
Hour followed hour. Both men, wide enough awake, had taken up their positions. Occasionally they would meet, and exchange a word or two. In the strong starlight the loom of the hills and the dark hang of forest were distinguishable, then towards morning a pale fragment of moon rose. Denham, sitting among the low thorn-bushes, the magazine of his .303 fully charged, enjoyed the silent beauty of the night, and his naturalist ear took in every cry of beast or bird away out on the otherwise silent waste. Intertwined, too, were thoughts of Verna and of his own position. As to the latter, in a way, the outbreak of war had been distinctly advantageous. No one, least of all the police, would have time to bother about the remains of some unknown Jew, or as to how he came to grief, now quite some time ago. Then the moon came over the distant ridge of forest, and it grew lighter and lighter. Even beneath his heavy overcoat Denham shivered.
Suddenly he grasped his rifle. No, it was only Ben Halse.
“Come round here,” whispered the latter. “Something’s moving.”
Denham’s nerves tingled. In a moment they were round at the point indicated. Several plover were circling overhead, uttering shrill cries.
“Look here,” whispered Halse earnestly. “When I fire there’ll likely be a rush. If there is, don’t be content with one shot. Pump about six into them one after another, as quick as ever you can. It’ll stop the lot for the moment, and rouse up those boozy idiots inside the fence. Then we’ll run like hell, but—look out for the barbed wire.”
Denham nodded. He was cool as ever man was, but the thrill of battle was in his veins, and, like the mythical knights of old, he was spurred by the thought that he was fighting for a lady-love. Intently he watched his companion. The latter raised his piece suddenly, then dropped it again; then up it went as quickly, and the flame and roar of the report spurted forth, followed immediately by another detonation.