"No. I have my orders to remain here until the column comes up. I can't disobey, Brenda. You must go."
"No, no, don't send me away! I will----"
There was a shout outside and Harold sprang to his feet. "I hope to God it is not too late!" he cried, and hurried out.
But it was too late. Across the veldt a large body of Boers were riding. The east was saffron colour, and everything for a considerable distance could be seen clearly. The sentry who had shouted pointed out the advancing column to his captain. And Harold went round the house and gave orders to bolt and bar all the windows. Then he returned to his wife and insisted that she should leave with one of the men.
"I must send a messenger back to tell them we are being attacked, and hurry them up. You must go, Brenda."
"No, no! A thousand times no!"
"God help us then," he groaned, and went off to despatch his messenger. The enemy was riding at a canter across the grass. He took one of his lancers round by the back where the horses were picketed, and told him to ride with all speed to the advancing column, and report the danger.
The man took his horse and stole quietly away, taking a wide detour to avoid the lynx eyes of the Boers. So he was away and out of sight before they reached the farmhouse by the front. Brenda could see them coming, could see Van Zwieten leading--she knew him by his golden beard. She ran to change her things, and by the time the Boers had dismounted near the fence running round the house, she was back in her riding-habit. She got a revolver from her husband, and by his orders remained in the sitting-room as the safest place. Then he kissed her fondly and went out. His men, posted at doors and windows, were all on the alert--coolly courageous, as the British soldier always is in time of peril. For the rest they were in God's hands.
The yellow in the east changed to a fiery red, and all the earth was bathed in roseate hues. From the verandah Captain Burton could see the wide veldt rolling in grassy waves to the foot of the distant mountains, and a gleam of the winding river, crimson in the glare. The enemy were grouped some distance away from the fence, and he went out with two men to ask their intentions. Of course he knew too well what they were, but even in war there is a certain etiquette to be observed. After a while Van Zwieten, with a white handkerchief at the end of a stick, came forward also with two men, and stopped at the fence, whence he could talk to the English officer.
"Well, you scoundrel!" Captain Burton said fiercely, for his soul loathed this man who was trying so hard to take his wife away from him, "what do you want?"