Jack had indeed much work before him. He had been entrusted with a message to the garrison of Kimberley, telling them that the British forces lying on the banks of the Modder river would advance to their aid in one month’s time, and meanwhile, having delivered the message, he was to push north to Colonel Baden-Powell, and inform him that, once Kimberley was free, a strong column would march to the help of gallant Mafeking. The news of coming relief, distant though it might be, would be of the greatest service. It would help to hearten a garrison still far from dispirited, and above all it would show them how much longer they would be compelled to rely upon themselves, and therefore induce them to husband their scanty provisions and ammunition.
On the following day Jack was taken to a sand-bag fort, and shown with much pride a long cannon manufactured in the besieged town. It was the work of the engineers of the great De Beers Company, and it had filled a most important post, for its range being very great, it was able to successfully dominate and keep down the fire of the big Creuzot guns which had for so long been throwing shell into the town. As Jack was taken up to it a Kimberley-made shell, bearing the inscription “With Cecil Rhodes’s compliments” was placed in the breech and backed by a charge of explosive. The gun was carefully sighted, there was a thunderous roar, and a minute later a flash, a leaping column of smoke and dust, and a faint answering report told that the missile had done its allotted work inside the sangar which protected the Boer gun. That evening, after a scanty meal consisting of horse-soup, known as “chevral”, and a piece of beef suspiciously unlike that usually provided, Jack bade his friends good-bye.
“We’ll go along and look after your pony,” said Tom Salter, with a knowing wink, a few minutes before his departure. “Come along, Frank, and you too, Wilfred, while Jack picks up his traps and settles himself. Now bustle up, boys, or else we shall find that someone has got hold of his mount, and perhaps has started already turning him into sausages.”
All at once sprang to their feet and left the underground chamber, Frank Russel turning round just as he was stepping out, and smiling kindly at Jack and at Eileen. Then with “So long, my lad, I’ll see you later,” he ran up the steps and disappeared from sight.
It was an awkward moment. Standing close to the table, with one hand grasping the back of a chair, was Eileen Russel, her beautiful face lit up by the lamp, and clearly showing the pain which this parting would give her. Close to the door was Jack. Sturdy, handsome, and stalwart, dressed in riding-breeches and gaiters, a khaki jacket, and a wide-brimmed hat, and with his upper lip adorned by a thin line of fair hair, which looked almost white when contrasted with his sunburnt face, he was a young man whom any of the gentle sex might have looked upon with pleasure. But when one knew that behind those smiling eyes there lurked a determined will, and that beneath that coat beat a heart as kindly and as brave as any man possessed, it should not seem wonderful that Eileen had long ago fallen in love with him. He was no namby-pamby lad, given to soft manners and flattery, but a brusque young fellow, kind, considerate, but undoubtedly shy, and a man, moreover, who had already made a good name for himself for bravery. She herself had witnessed his courage. It was he who had rescued her from the Boer ruffians in her father’s house, and from that day Jack had been her hero. And now he was to go, to leave her and run still further risks. It was hard indeed, and her lips trembled at the thought.
“Good-bye, Jack!” she said, tearfully, holding out her hand, but not trusting herself to look at him. “Good-bye, and do take care of yourself!”
Jack walked across to her, and, taking her hand in his, Pressed it gently and said to her, “Eileen, look at me. You ask me to take care of myself. Why should I do so? Who would care if anything did happen to me? My mother and brother might, and Wilfred and Tom Salter would, I am sure. But who else? Tell me, Eileen dear, that you would care. Tell me that you love me now as I love you, and have done ever since we first met, and I promise you I will guard my life for your sake alone.”
“Ah, Jack, you know how I love you without asking me!” whispered Eileen, looking now directly into his face, and smiling so sweetly at him that all his fears left him in an instant, and he forgot everything but the fact that Eileen was there and that he loved her and she him.
It was the happiest moment of their lives, and when Jack at last kissed her and strode from the room he and Eileen were engaged to pass through life together if it pleased God to spare them during the remainder of the war.
Walking along the trench, Jack turned sharp to the left, and half-way to the point at which his friends were to wait for him, met Frank Russel, leaning against the wall of earth, and thoughtfully staring at the sky.