We yelled together with all our might; but our cheers sounded like whispers amidst the noises of firing in front and the rush of men from the rear. The Boer sentries, however, were true to their duty even in the midst of the terrible confusion in their lines; and four of them made at once, rifle in hand, for the wagon. But we were mad with excitement now, and crack, crack, our revolvers began to speak. Our shots and the rapid advance of the soldiers made them turn and flee.
Then came the crash: the cheering and bayonet-work of the charge, as our men dashed through the Boer lines, scattering them, horse and man, across the veldt, panic-stricken.
“Denham,” I cried excitedly; “my friends!” He said nothing for a moment; then, unable to give me comfort, he said, “Oh, if the Colonel could only bring our fellows out now and charge!”
Just then bugles rang out the recall, and in the midst of the many sounds Bob’s voice rose from the front of the wagon: “In here, father—quick!”
The pair had only just clambered in when we heard the shouting of an order and tramping of feet, and half a company of foot with fixed bayonets dashed up to the wagon, the light within having attracted attention. At the moment it looked like escaping from one great peril to plunge into another; but, frantic with excitement, Denham saved us by his shout: “Hurrah! Prisoners; help!”
A young officer sprang into the wagon, sword in hand, followed by half-a-dozen of his men with bayonets levelled at us; but the officer halted the men.
“Prisoners,” he cried excitedly, “or a ruse?”
“Get out!” shouted Denham. “Do you take me for a Dutchman? Look at our hands and feet.”
A sergeant sprang forward and took the swinging lantern from the hook, opened its door, and, as he held it down, they saw our horribly swollen and useless limbs, with the hide-thongs just freshly cut through.
“Who did that?” asked the young officer.