However, the sun often peeps out on the cloudiest days; and towards evening, just when we were feeling most despondent, Joeboy came up to Denham and me just as we were going up to our old place of observation, glass in hand. As we mounted, it was to see the horses led in, with the guard behind them; the lines of the enemy being descried very distinctly in the horizontal rays of the low-down sun. Denham was using the glass and making comments the while.
“There’s a famous great gap out yonder,” he said, “just to the right of where we saw those unlucky wagons, Val. I will just go and tell some one. The enemy will not be likely to fill it up; and I believe we might go softly that way and make a dash through.—Oh, you disgusting, sybaritish, gluttonous brutes! I always did think the Boers were pigs at eating. Look at their fires all along their lines. Here are we starving, and they’re doing nothing but cook and eat—eat—eat.”
I took the glass and looked at the opening he had noticed, but said nothing, remembering how terrible was our experience on the previous occasion. I saw too—as enviously as my companion, but in silence—how the fires were sending up their clouds of smoke in the clear, calm air all along the line, telling of preparations for the coming meal.
“The empty wagons are gone,” I said at last.
“If you say wagon again I shan’t be able to contain myself,” cried Denham passionately. “I don’t want to kick you, Val; but I shall be obliged. Look here, if I feel as bad to-morrow evening as I do now, I’ll mount and desert to the Boer ranks.”
“Not you,” I said.
“But I will, just for the sake of eating as much as ever I can. Then I’ll desert again and join our own ranks.”
“Why, Denham—” I exclaimed excitedly, and then I was silent.
“Why, Denham—” he replied.
“Wait a minute,” I cried; “let me make sure.”