"That means," said Mr. Blakeney, "that they will attack us to-night or at early morning. Well, we shall have a sleepless night; but we'll be ready for them, anyway."
Night came; and after supper each man settled himself in his blanket by the post assigned to him, behind the breastwork of stones. Twenty yards beyond this extended the long and thick hedge of thorn bush which ran right up the edge of the cliff. Beyond that, the declivity that led up to their camp was bare for nearly two hundred yards. They had cut away the last patches of bush on this open glacis, over which their enemies would have to advance. They could only be outflanked by their foes breaking through the thorn fence on the side near the precipice and getting round that way. To guard against this contingency, Mr. Blakeney and Tom took positions which covered that corner. Guy came next. Next to him would be Poeskop; and on their right, again, Jan Kokerboom, September, Seleti, and Mangwalaan. These two last, being somewhat excitable Bechuanas, were warned against letting off their rifles too rapidly, and were enjoined to fire slowly and take careful aim. Jan Kokerboom, himself a cool and excellent shot, had the task of looking after these two and September the Zulu.
It seemed an interminably long night. There was no moon, but the stars burned overhead with a wonderful brilliancy. In their camp all was as quiet as the grave. A low fire burned. It was Mr. Blakeney's plan to let their assailants believe that they were all sleeping, quite unaware of any attack to be made against them. Poeskop, at his own special request, was abroad, away in front of their defences, creeping about in the darkness, listening intently for any sound that should herald the Boers' approach.
Hour after hour slipped by on leaden wings. To the watchers the tension was very great. It seemed as if, amid all the anxiety and strain of waiting, the night would never pass. After one o'clock Guy and Tom, in spite of the expected assault, found it very hard to keep awake. Mr. Blakeney let them sleep; and for an hour or two the lads enjoyed the sweetest slumber, so it seemed to them, that they had ever experienced. At three Mr. Blakeney awoke them. Pulling themselves together, they found themselves presently wide awake and wonderfully refreshed and heartened. Another hour went by, and still there was no break in the serene peace of the African night. In a little while Poeskop, who had been scouting all night, crept into the laager by a narrow loophole reserved for him next the mountain wall, and crawled along the line. He reached Guy.
"They come!" he whispered in Dutch. "Look out, baas!"
This message he repeated to Mr. Blakeney and Tom, ten and twenty yards farther on, and then returned to his post near Guy, where his spare rifle lay. Still no sign of their enemies. Would they never come? It seemed to Guy, to Tom, to all of them, as if for some reason the assault was not to be delivered. But the Boers knew their own plans, and had excellent reasons of their own for postponing their attack.
Now in the far east the paling sky tells that day is near at hand, and the light is perceptibly coming. A faint glow of colour shows in the heavens; the gray east is turning to a pale green.
Hark! What was that? The hearts of the men waiting and watching beat loudly within their breasts. Even to the boldest--and there was not a coward in the little line of defenders--the moments of suspense before the actual fighting begins are always trying. The sound of stealthy footsteps could be distinguished. Certainly some one was approaching from the front. Then suddenly, in the dim morning light, there rose from behind the thorn fence in front of them many forms, and a number of men began to pull down, in desperate haste and with frantic energy, the outer line of defence. If that object were attained, and the attackers obtained an entrance, their numbers would inevitably tell, and the defenders would be overwhelmed.
"Shoot, my lads!" cried Mr. Blakeney, his voice ringing clear and sharp on the still morning air. Instantly there followed the report of eight rifles. Four of the attackers fell, and two others were slightly hit--at twenty yards range there could be no missing; and yells of rage, mingled with groans and curses in vehement Dutch, arose from behind the thorns. But the Boers, surprised though they were, were by no means yet done with. Karl Engelbrecht, standing at the middle of one line of attack, called to his men to fire, and, taking rapid aim in front of him, let drive. Of his ten unwounded supporters nine followed his example, one native skulking with the wounded. The Boer volley was at once answered by the second discharge of the little English garrison, who, crouching behind their breastworks, had their assailants at great advantage. Again two of the attacking force fell, while another (Engelbrecht himself) was wounded.
The Boers and their natives had, by this time, more than enough of it. With one consent they broke and fled, nor stayed their career till they were out of sight. A hearty cheer rose from the defenders as they realized their victory.