With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

by F. S. Brereton

By this time the clouds on his left hand were already beginning to lighten, warning him that ere long dawn would sweep over the wide range of veldt, and that unless he wished to be discovered by the enemy he had better set about finding some hiding-place. Fortunately there was no difficulty in this, for he was now well in the bush country which stretches in a wide belt north and south of Vryburg. Up to this he had ridden by the side of it, but now he turned to the left, and, jumping to the ground, led his pony on amongst the bushes. Threading his way carefully between the clumps of mimosa and cactus, and the still more painful wait-a-bit thorns, he at length came to a small and precipitous kopje, covered with rugged boulders and bush, and clambered up to the top.

Here he found a small hollow almost surrounded with boulders, and with sufficient grass to give his pony a good feed, and still allow room for himself to lie down. It was just the place for a secret camp, and five minutes later he had taken possession of it. Vic—as he had called the pony in memory of his favourite—was soon knee-haltered and busily picking at the herbage, and Jack was equally busy devouring some bread and meat he had brought in his haversack.

By the time he had satisfied his hunger and lit a pipe there was bright daylight, and, crawling to the edge of the kopje, he squeezed his body between two of the boulders, and with the help of his glasses made a thorough survey of his surroundings. About six miles on his right the snakelike track of the giant railway from Cape Town via Kimberley and Mafeking to Buluwayo, met his eye, while away in the distance was Vryburg, looking like a white blotch against the green bush which almost surrounded it.

But nowhere was there a Boer to be seen, and, satisfied that for the present he ran no chance of discovery, Jack lay down on his mackintosh sheet, wrapped himself in his blanket, and with his head resting on his saddle was soon fast asleep.

Shortly after noon he woke again, and there being no one in sight he saddled up, and, leading his horse to the foot of the kopje, pushed forward on the long ride to Mafeking. But though all seemed quiet, he was not to reach his destination without some startling adventures. Had he but known it, three roughly-dressed Boers had caught sight of his figure as he left his hiding-place, and, following him cautiously through the bush, had soon surrounded him. Wide-awake as Jack generally was, it was only when a horseman mounted on a snaggy pony suddenly appeared in front of him that he became aware that there was a Boer within miles of him. To halt and glance all round was the work of an instant only, and showed him the figures of two other horsemen hemming him in on every side. Next moment he had slipped to the ground and had unslung his rifle. Fortunately he happened to be riding through a thick part of the bush, so that, lying flat on the ground, he was completely invisible to the advancing Boers. When within three hundred yards of him all three halted and shouted to him to surrender. By this time, in spite of the sharp spikes and thorns, Jack had crawled a little way into the bush and was some feet from his pony. Then, gently kneeling up, he lifted his head inch by inch and looked about. Immediately surrounding him was a thick clump of mimosa bush which completely hid him, while the Boers, seated upon their animals, were well above the top of it.

“I’ll wait a moment where I am,” thought Jack, “and if they fire I will pick one of them off and crawl away to another position at once. Then I’ll fire at another. There are three of them, but after all I am in a good position, and unless they gallop in and finish me, I ought to get safely away.”

Once more one of the Boers shouted to him to surrender, and as Jack kept silent, all three fired at the bush close to his pony, one of the bullets killing the poor animal instantly, while another passed through the top of Jack’s hat, as he happened to be just in the line of fire.

In no way put out by the occurrence, though his hat leapt from his head, Jack hastily replaced it, and, lifting his rifle, fired at the man whose bullet had so nearly been the means of ending his career. At such a short range it was not a difficult shot, and the Boer threw up his arms and fell backwards over the quarters of his pony with a bullet through his chest.

Next moment there were two sharp reports, and the ominous swish, swish of Mauser projectiles flying close above him. But Jack escaped unhurt, and though the Boers emptied their magazines into that part of the bush they did not touch him, for a second after firing he had again dropped on all-fours and crawled away to the left. Once more he lifted his head, to find the two remaining horsemen, rifle in hand, standing up in their stirrups and searching the thick mimosa shrubs in front of them, ready to open fire the instant he showed himself.

Jack crawled on a little farther till he came to a spot where, still lying prone on the ground, it was possible to get a good sight of the enemy. Taking a careful aim, he once more fired, and had the satisfaction of seeing another of the Boers fall, while the third hastily discharged his rifle and galloped away, Jack sending a bullet whizzing after him.