“The horses might be driven out to graze under the fire of our rifles.”
“How long would the scanty grass round here last? No: the chief’s right enough, and as soon as it’s dark the orders will come, ‘Boot and saddle.’ We’ve got to cut our way through that mob of Dutchmen to-night.”
“Oh, very well,” said one of the men who had not yet spoken; “this is rather a dreary sort of place, so by all means let us cut.”
The men grew very quiet afterwards as the twilight began to fall, and I noticed that most of them, after finishing their meal and getting a draught of water freshly drawn up out of the old mine, walked up to their horses and began to make much of them, patting and smoothing, and then examining girths, bridles, and every buckle and strap.
The night was coming on fast now, and the Boers began to mingle with the haze in the distance. We saw they had filled up all the gaps between their lines, opening out till they formed a complete hedge of dismounted horsemen around our stronghold; and they looked a very formidable body of men.
“Yes,” said Denham, who had drifted to my side again, according to what had now become a custom of his—for I could not go to him—“we’re regularly ringed round, Val.”
“Yes, they’re very strong,” I said.
“No, they’re not, lad, for a ring’s very weak, and bends or breaks if it’s pushed from the inside; but if pushed from the outside it takes a deal to break it. We’ll both bend and break it to-night.”
We sat talking for a bit, and watched the Boers till they were quite invisible. Then we could do nothing but wait for orders, no one believing that any attack would be made by our mounted enemy. However, about an hour after it was quite dark an alarm was suddenly given; but every man was on the alert, and the entrances to our fort were doubly strengthened. For there was the sound of shouts and horses thundering over the plain towards the fort; and at last the order was given to fire, a sharp fusillade ringing out in the horsemen’s direction. It had its effect, for the enemy turned and galloped away, the sounds of their retreat rapidly dying out; and all seemed quiet till one of the defenders of the gap in the wall challenged, with the customary “Halt! or I fire!”
“Um!” cried a familiar voice. “Don’t shoot. On’y Joeboy. Want Boss Val.”