“Ready?” asked Poynter, scarcely able to repress a shout of excitement. “Try me and you’ll see soon enough. It would be grand. We should create quite a stir in the camp!”
“Then it’s settled!” answered Jack shortly. “But get your gun ready in case of accidents, and whatever you do, keep an eye on that fellow’s gag.”
Poynter gave another chuckle expressive of intense enjoyment, and, unslinging his rifle, sat down close to his captive, while Jack once more crawled to the front of the wagon.
An hour later the convoy passed through Pieters, being challenged by the Boer sentries, and coming to a halt close to the railway-station. But no one came near them. The Kafir drivers left their teams standing, and, taking buckets from beneath the axles of the wagons, went to a stream and procured water, which they gave to their thirsty animals.
Jack kept his eye upon the tall Zulu in charge of the mules, and watched him watering them. Then, as the man jumped on the driving-board, he stretched himself full-length on the mealie bags and snored loudly as if fast asleep. A moment later the Zulu put his head into the tent, and pulling him by the coat asked him whether he should push on, in a language composed of English, Dutch, and Zulu. Jack sat up and yawned in the most natural manner, and growled out an unintelligible answer. Then he pushed the man off the wagon, as if angry with him for waking him, and lay down once more. And all the time the young staff-officer sat beside his unwilling captive, with his hand over his mouth so as to make sure that he could not give an alarm.
It was touch and go, but no doubt the Kaffir driver had experienced the ill-temper of his Boer master before, and taking the gruff answer as an order, he sent the lash of his sjambok over the heads of the mules, with a crack as sharp as the report of a rifle, and started them along the road to Colenso.
Three hours later there was another halt, and, peering out through the back of the wagon, Jack noticed that all but the leading dozen wagons had turned aside, and their teams were being outspanned upon the veldt. Soon a horseman carrying a lantern rode up and gave a gruff order, and once more the wagons were set in motion.
Just as the dawn was beginning to break they reached the road bridge over the River Tugela, and having trundled across it, pushed on towards Colenso.
“Now we shall have to look lively, Poynter,” whispered Jack calmly. “Which part of the job will you take? Will you drive the team, or act as rearguard?”
“I fancy I had better do the driving,” answered Poynter. “I never was much of a hand with a rifle, while with the ribbons I fancy I take some beating. Tell me what to do, and you can rely upon my carrying it out.”