“Boers in sight, sir,” said Sergeant James. “Mounted men coming on fast.”
“Humph! Too soon,” said the major, and he proceeded to make the best of matters. The ambulance party was signalled to hurry forward, and a message sent to the little rear-guard with the store wagons and cattle to press forward with their convoy to the fullest extent. Then, as the mounted Boers came galloping on and divided in two parties, right and left, to head off the convoy, the eager men were halted, faced outward, and, waiting their time till the galloping enemy were nearly level at about three hundred yards’ distance, so accurate a fire was brought to bear that saddles were emptied and horses went down rapidly. Five minutes of this was sufficient for the enemy, the men swerving off in a course right away from the firing lines, and, when out of reach of the bullets, beginning to retreat.
“Has that settled them?” said Captain Edwards.
“No,” said the major; “only made them savage. They’ll begin to try the range of their rifles upon us now. Open out and hurry your men on, for the scoundrels are terribly good shots.”
The speaker was quite right, for before long bullets began to sing in the air, strike up the dust, and ricochet over the heads of the men, to find a billet more than once in the trembling body of some unfortunate ox. But fighting in an open plain was not one of the Boers’ strong points; the cover was scarce, they had their horses with them, and the little British party was always on the move and getting nearer home. Several bold attempts were made to head them off, but they were thwarted again and again; but in spite of his success, the major began to grow frantic.
“Look at those blundering oxen, Dickenson,” he cried. “It’s a regular funeral pace over what will be our funerals—the brutes! We shall have to get on and leave them to their fate. I’ll try a little longer, though. I say, we must be half-way now.”
“Yes; but unfortunately there’s a fresh body of the enemy coming up at a gallop,” said Dickenson, who had paused to sweep the veldt with his field-glass. “Yes, twice as many as are out here.”
“What!” cried the major. “Well, there’s no help for it; we shall have to leave the cattle behind. Send a man forward to tell the convoy guard to halt till we come up, and let the cattle take their chance.”
“The men with the wagons too, sir?”
“No,” cried the major; “not till we’re at the last pinch. We must try and save them.”