“Well, I don’t know so much about that,” said Denham as we neared the fortified gateway, with its curtain of empty wagons. “I’m beginning to think that we’re being a great deal of help to the General here.”
“How?” I asked wonderingly. “Our corps is completely useless.”
“Oh no, it isn’t, my little man. Look here; I’m of opinion that we’re surrounded by quite a couple of thousand mounted men.”
“Yes, perhaps there are,” I said, “at a guess.”
“Well, isn’t that being of use to the British General? We’re keeping these fellows fully occupied, so that they can’t be harassing his flanks and rear with all this mob of sharpshooters, who know well how to use their rifles.”
“I say,” I cried, “what’s the matter yonder?”
“Nothing! Where?”
“Look at the baboons right at the far end of the kopje. They’re racing about in a wonderful state of excitement.”
“Smell cooking, perhaps,” said Denham. “Here, Sergeant,” he continued, calling up Briggs, “take Mr Moray and a couple of men. Canter round yonder and see if you can make anything out. Scout. Perhaps the brutes can see the Boers advancing.”
In another minute we were cantering round the ragged outskirts of the great pile of stones, where they came right down to the plain, among which were plenty of grassy and verdant patches, little gorges and paths up amongst the tumbled-together blocks; and as we rode along we startled apes by the dozen from where they were feeding, and sent them shrieking and chattering menacingly, as they rushed up to the higher parts.