While this was progressing the Colonel returned from where he had been inspecting the top of the wall, and rearranging the men so as to take the greatest advantage of our position, to make sure the Boers could not break in through the weakest spot—the opening where the wall had fallen.
“Ha!” he said to Denham and me, “you two deserve great credit for hunting out the old underground tank of this ancient fortress. Now, with plenty of provisions and fodder for the horses, we might hold this place for any length of time. I think the General ought to know of it, and place two or three companies of foot here. I see that good shelter might be contrived by drawing some wagon-sheets across the top of these double walls.”
“Yes, sir—easily,” said Denham. “As you say, there would be no horses to keep if the place were held by foot.”
“Exactly,” said the Colonel, who seemed much interested in the drawing of the water, and listened intently to the echoes of the splashing from the impromptu buckets. “Why, Denham, that tank seems to be of great size; quite a reservoir, and tremendously deep.”
“It is, sir,” said Denham dryly; “only it isn’t a tank.”
“What is it, then—a well?”
“No, sir: a gold-mine,” said Denham in a low tone.
The Colonel looked at him sternly, and then smiled.
“Oh, I see. Metaphorical,” he said. “Yes, to thirsty folk a perfect gold-mine. Liquid gold—eh?”
“You don’t understand me, sir,” said Denham quietly. “I was not speaking in a figurative way, but in plain, downright English. That really is part of an ancient gold-mine, in which the water has collected in course of time.”