He reached the square at last, but not without being challenged three times over. Then making his way to the colonel’s patched-up quarters, he was just in time to meet the patrol coming into the opening, their leader going straight to the mess-room, where the officers were gathered.
“Any luck?” said Dickenson. “I was on the lookout for you up yonder till I couldn’t see.”
“Yes, and no,” said the officer. “Come on and you’ll hear.”
Dickenson followed his companion into the long, dreary-looking, ill-lighted barn, where they were both warmly welcomed; and the officer announced that he had gone as near the Boers’ laagers as he could, drawing fire each time; but he had not been able to either overtake or trace the plotters till close upon evening, when on the return. They had found a sign, but there was so much crossing and recrossing that the best of scouts could have made nothing of it; and he concluded that the party he sought had got well away, when all at once they came upon the undoubted spoor of the two teams of oxen, followed it into the bush, and just at dusk came upon the two wagons in a bush-like patch among the trees.
“And what had the men to say for themselves?” said the colonel eagerly.
“The men had gone, sir,” said the officer.
“Ah! Bolted at the sight of you?”
“Oh no, sir; they were gone.”
“What! and left the wagons?”
“Yes, sir; they had left the wagons, but they had carried off the teams.”