“Oh, don’t ask me,” said my companion; “that’s as much as I understand about it. All I say is that it’s a great pity people should be shooting at one another over what ought to be settled by a bit of talk. But, I say, look out. What does that mean? Halt!”
The men drew rein on the instant, as I looked forward, expecting to see a puff of white smoke ahead, for Joeboy suddenly dropped down behind a block of stone high up in front, and from there began to make signals, just as if he were out in rough ground with me on the veldt and had sighted game.
“He has seen the Boers,” I said excitedly. “Look! He says there are hundreds of them.”
“No, he doesn’t,” said my companion gruffly; “he’s only flourishing his arms about like a windmill gone mad.”
“But that’s his way of signalling a big herd of game,” I said, “and—”
Before I could say more, puff, puff, puff arose the tiny white clouds of smoke, followed by the cracking of the rifles, taken up by the echoes till there was a continuous roar; while phit, phit, phit, bullets began to drop about us, striking the stones, and others passed overhead with an angry buzz like so many big flies.
“Retire!” shouted my companion. “It’s of no use to waste ammunition. They’re in strong force up yonder.—Here, you, Moray, what are you about?”
“Nothing,” I said sternly; “only looking for my man.”
“But didn’t you hear my order?” shouted Denham; and before I could do anything to prevent him he caught Sandho’s rein and put spurs to his horse.
“Don’t do that,” I cried angrily. “I can’t go and leave my poor fellow in the lurch. I’m afraid he’s hit.”