It was now getting dark, and after a short pause, probably to fetch up more ammunition and cool the guns, the bombardment again commenced, one of the shells setting fire to the wreckage above the bomb-proof chamber. In an instant big tongues of flame burst forth, and a dense volume of choking smoke eddied into the cellar.
The sight filled the Boers with pleasure, as a faint cheer showed, and almost immediately afterwards they started forward, in open order, and rushed for the house.
“Out with the fire!” Jack cried sharply. “Those fellows cannot reach us for some minutes yet. Quick! Pass up those buckets to me!”
Standing on the top rung of the ladder, with the smoke blowing in his face and almost smothering him, he stretched down his hands, grasped the buckets passed up to him, and dashed the contents over the blazing timber. Two were sufficient, and in a minute the fire was subdued, and he had kicked out the surviving embers with his feet.
Then all four took the best places they could find, and, waiting till the Boers were close enough to make their aim fairly certain, opened fire upon them. But the dusk was already almost turning into night, and, undeterred by the bullets, the enemy was rapidly closing in upon them. Things looked very black, and common sense would have suggested an honourable surrender. But the excitement of the struggle had taken fast hold of Jack and his friends, and their blood was thoroughly roused. They had defended the house for many hours, and now, just at the moment when help and rescue were expected, they were not going to give up the unequal struggle till the very last moment had arrived. Even Eileen was firmly determined upon this point. Encouraged by the resolute pluck of her father and these two young Englishmen, she seemed to have forgotten her sex for the time being, and now, crouched behind a tumbled portion of the iron roof, her rifle spoke out repeatedly and truly, and sent many a Boer to his last account, or limping from the field.
But the impossible could not be expected. In spite of a gallant defence, the host of Boers were now close at hand, and a hail of bullets was directed at the house and at the four spitting points of flame which showed where the muzzles of the rifles were hidden.
“It’s all up, lads,” shouted Frank Russel. “Shall I shout to them to cease their fire?”
“Wait, what is that?” Eileen cried, clutching her father by the arm. “Guns in the distance, Father, and rifle fire. It is the sortie!”
Pausing for a moment, the defenders crouched behind their shelter and listened eagerly and with beating hearts. Shouts and volley-firing reached their ears, together with the well-known rattle of a Maxim, and almost instantly the Boers who were attacking them called anxiously to one another, and, leaping to their feet, rushed in the direction of the sounds at their fastest pace.
“Thank God, lads!” exclaimed Frank Russel earnestly. “It was a close shave, but He saw us safely through it.”