Eileen played right through the anthem, and was heartily applauded by the men, who sat round her, rifle in hand, their faces dimly lit by the rays from the oil-lamp which had been placed upon the floor.
By this time the farmhouse had been drilled through and through with shell, most of which, however, had passed out without exploding. A few had struck directly upon the stone slabs above the cellar, but all save one had merely fizzled angrily and poured out a quantity of smoke. But one burst, and blew part of the roof of the house away, also shattering two of the stone slabs.
“Volunteers to replace the damaged stone roof!” sang out Jack, pushing his head up through the trap and inspecting the havoc. “Two of the slabs above us have been blown to pieces and must be replaced at once, or else an unlucky shell will pitch through the boards and come in here on top of us.”
Wilfred at once rose to his feet, and the two darted up the ladder and into the kitchen. Here they found that a brick wall, built to carry the cooking range, stood between the Boer fire and the ponies, so that the hail of Mauser bullets had for the most part failed to reach them. But one had entered through the wall at the back and had killed a pony, while a shell burst through the thin layer of brick just as Jack and Wilfred entered, and, throwing a shower of dust and débris in all directions, inflicted a fearful wound upon another of the captured ponies and flew out through the other wall.
“Poor beast!” exclaimed Jack with a shudder. “I will put it out of its agony. They will not hear my Mauser from such a distance.”
Stepping up to the wounded animal, he placed his pistol close against its chest and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through its heart and killed the suffering animal instantly.
“Now for the stones!” he said quietly. “I’ll lever them up, and then help you to put them in position. Hurry up! I see those fellows are getting the other gun into place, and preparing to fire it.”
Jack took a hasty view through one of the loopholes with his glasses, and then proceeded to prise up the slabs from the kitchen floor. Five minutes sufficed to complete the work, and just as they were preparing to descend into the bomb-proof chamber once more, a loud and incessant rat, tat, tat sounded in the distance, followed an instant later by a continuous hum overhead, and then, as the range was found, by a stream of one-pounder shells which hurtled through the farmhouse, smashing walls, chairs, and everything in their way into matchwood.
“Come down, lads!” cried Frank Russel anxiously. “That’s a quick-firing Vickers-Maxim barking. They’ll give us a long dose of that while the mounted men ride closer, and then there’ll be a rush. Get your guns ready, and immediately the firing ceases climb out of this and man the walls. I expect they’ll come mostly from the front, for they don’t know of this cellar, and will fancy we are all wiped out. Well, we’ll teach them something, that’s all.”
“Then it is agreed we hold our fire till they are within a few yards of the railings,” said Jack. “A volley to start with will be the thing, and then when they reach the garden we will use our magazines.”