Understanding what was wanted, I turned over on my right side and laid my ear against the opening, listening.
“Don’t try to get up,” buzzed into it, and seemed to set my brain whirling. “The Boers are making a great attack on the fort, and you two must try and creep out while the sentries are listening to the firing. Can you both run?”
“We could not stand up to save our lives,” I whispered. “Our legs are quite numb and dead.”
“Then I must carry you to where father is waiting,” was whispered.
I uttered a low sigh of misery, for I knew that was impossible. The Boers must hear the movements, even if so young a lad as my brother had possessed sufficient strength.
“Lie still, and sham sleep,” was the advice from below. “Your legs will get better. The Boers won’t be back for hours yet. Hark!”
There was no need to speak, for the firing grew louder and louder, as if echoing from the walls of the fort, not much more than half a mile from where we lay; and I was thinking that a terrible assault might be made, when my brother whispered again:
“The Boers mean to take the place to-night. Now, do as I say. Pretend to sleep. I’m going to fetch father.”
He had hardly ceased speaking when there was a rush of feet, and one of our guards scrambled up at the back, rifle in hand; but he contented himself with looking in when he saw us lying apparently unmoved beneath the rug.
“Hear that?” he said loudly.