“No,” said the major, “they will not do that. This has been too severe a lesson for them. They’ll wait till we are gone, and then come to see to their killed and wounded. That was a sudden turn in the state of affairs.”
“Ha!” replied Captain Edwards. “I was beginning to wonder how many of us would get back to Groenfontein.”
“Yes,” said the major; “so was I.”
In a very short time the ambulance party and the convoy, with its great train of cattle, were once more on their way to the camp, well-guarded by half the party Colonel Lindley had so opportunely sent to the help of the expedition, the rest, with the major’s little force, following more deliberately, keeping on the alert for another attack from the Boers, who waited till their foes were quitting the field before coming slowly on. But not for a new encounter; their aim now was only to carry off their wounded comrades and bury their dead.
“Yes,” said the major, “they have had one of the sharpest lessons we have given them during the war. We suffered enough in carrying the kopje by surprise; this time we have not lost a man.”
These last words haunted Dickenson all the way back to the camp, which was reached in safety, the men being tremendously cheered by the comrades they had left behind. But in spite of his elation with the grand addition to their supplies and the two great triumphs achieved by his men, the colonel looked terribly down-hearted at the long array of wounded men; while with regard to Lennox he shook his head.
“A sad loss,” he said. “I looked upon Drew Lennox as one of the smartest young fellows in the corps. It’s very hard that misfortune should have befallen him now.”
“But you think he’ll get back to us, sir?” said Dickenson excitedly.
The colonel gave him a quick look.
“I hope so, Mr Dickenson; I hope so,” he said. “There, cheer up,” he added. “We shall soon see.”