The two hours seemed very long to Lennox, who lay thinking of home, and of how little those he loved could realise the risky position he occupied that night. Dickenson was flat upon his back with his hands under his head, going over again the scene in the cavern when he was looking down the chasm and watching the movement of the light his friend had attached to his belt.
“Not a pleasant thing to think about,” he said to himself, “but it makes me feel savage against that corporal, and it’s getting my monkey up, for we’ve got to fight to-night as we never fought before. We’ve got to whip, as the Yankees say—‘whip till we make the beggars run.’ What a piece of impudence it does seem!” he said to himself a little later on. “Here we are, about a hundred and fifty hungry men, and I’ll be bound to say there’s about fifteen hundred of the enemy. But then they don’t grasp it. They’re beggars to sleep, and if we’re lucky we shall be on to them before they know where they are. Oh, we shall do it;” and he lay thinking again of Corporal May, feeling like a boy once more; and he was just at the pitch when he muttered to himself, “What a pity it is that an officer must not strike one of his men!—for I should dearly like to punch that fellow’s head.—Ha! here’s the major. Never mind, there’ll be other heads waiting over yonder, and I dare say I shall get all I want.”
He turned over quickly, not to speak, but to grip his comrade’s hand, for the word was being passed to fall in, and as he and Lennox gripped each other’s hands hard and in silence, a soft, rustling movement was heard. For the men were springing to their feet and arranging their pouches and belts, before giving their rifles a thorough rub to get rid of the clinging clew.
“Fall in” was whispered, and the men took their places with hardly a sound.
“Fix bayonets!” was the next order, and a faint—very faint—metallic clicking ran along the lines, followed by a silence so deep that the breathing of the men could be heard.
“Forward!”
There was no need for more, and the officers led off, with the one idea of getting as close to the Boers as possible before they were discovered, and then charging home, keeping their men as much together as they could, and knowing full well that much must be left to chance.
The next minute the men were advancing softly in double line, opening out and closing up, as obstacles in the shape of stone and bush began to be frequent. But there was no hurry, no excitement. They had ample time, and when one portion of the force was a little entangled by a patch of bush thicker than usual, those on either side halted so as to keep touch, and in this way the first half-mile was passed, the only sound they heard being the neighing of a horse somewhere in front.