CHAPTER XIII
THE BATTLE OF DOORNKOP
Steve’s horse went bravely on, but with slackened speed. We will not follow his further journey too closely; he met many people, all telling different tales as to the fortunes of war. One confirmed Captain Thatcher’s tale, while others totally denied it.
Steve now found himself in the vicinity of Krugersdorp. It was Thursday, the third day since he had left his friends on the banks of the Vaal. He had travelled about one hundred and fifty miles or more during the forty-eight hours since he had left them.
He was riding along as fast as his horse would go; for he knew he was reaching his journey’s end, and he could restrain his impatience no longer. He saw a man galloping towards him in a slanting direction, which would take him towards Krugersdorp. As the man approached near enough, he recognised him to be a newspaper reporter whom he had known in Pretoria.
He stopped the reporter and inquired eagerly for news.
‘Oh! the Burghers are holding their own bravely. Since yesterday they have kept Jameson dancing about, trying to force his way through to Johannesburg, but in vain; Jameson can’t get any nearer Johannesburg. The Burghers are gradually enclosing him, and soon they will have him and his freebooters at their mercy.’
‘Thank God! but how many Burghers have been killed?’
‘Up to now, two or three at the most, and as many wounded, while Jameson has lost heavily all along.’
‘What? You are fooling me!’