After four days the relief column returned from Linkwater.
A watcher stationed in the tower told of its approach one afternoon, and in less than ten minutes the whole community was out too, watching and waiting. I went with the rest; it was impossible to do otherwise without making myself conspicuous, but I tied a big veil round my face for fear my mask should fail me at the moment I saw Anthony. Mrs Valetta came too and Anna Cleeve, pale as a bone, the former with her teeth dug into her lip in a way that was painful to watch. Not that I watched her. One look was enough to tell me not to look again, and I was occupied with my own misery.
Anthony Kinsella riding carelessly with his right arm turned in on his hip was all I saw. A dark face with two blue points in it under a slouched felt hat: eyes that with one swift look dragged my glance to his over the heads of everybody, long before he rode in amongst us with his little band. In the midst of them was an untented cart drawn by oxen containing several women and children and a sick man. Every one crowded round the riders shaking hands, questioning, welcoming. The Commandant without delay had his arm round Anthony Kinsella’s shoulders and drew him into his office, closing the door. They were officials and had to attend to the business of the country. We were left to welcome the poor people in the cart—two sullen, sunburnt, colonial women, very Dutch and disagreeable, and a tribe of small brats. Huts had been prepared for them and the doctor had the sick man carried off to the hospital.
Gerry Deshon and the rest of them hailed us cheerfully and dismounting proceeded to recount their adventures, which it transpired had not been of a wildly exciting order. They had seen nothing of the enemy, and instead of being pleased thereat were full of weariness and wrath.
“Devil an impi!” they bitterly announced. “Not the scrag end of one. All we got for our pains was the pleasure of being chewed up by flies and skeeters, Dennison’s horse gone dead lame, and Stair with a sprained arm.”
“Yes, and those blessed Dutchmen didn’t want to be rescued. They kicked at being taken away from their farms. Kinsella had his work cut out making them quit. The women cursed and the brats howled. Oh, it was dreamful!”
“The most awful flat frosty business you ever saw!”
“Never mind,” said the American, who had been called away to join the conclave in the office and now reappeared. “Never mind, my dears. We’re away off to the woods to-night.”
“To-night!” Disgust and fatigue departed from the tea-coloured, begrimed visages.
“To-night?”