“You speak well, sir,” said Hardy. “I am unable to deny the force of your appeal. We may hope that when the President returns, communications may be opened with the English Government which may lead to a settlement honourable and satisfactory to both parties. But meanwhile, ought not all hostile operations to be suspended? They could not facilitate any negotiations that might be set on foot, but they might seriously impede them.”
“If the English general proposes an armistice, it will certainly be agreed to,” said Joubert. “On our side we have no need to make any such proposition. If we are not attacked, we shall not ourselves make any attack. The British have only to do the same, and all fighting will be suspended. But, of course, if we are assailed, we shall repel the assault.”
Hardy bowed and took his leave. On returning to the place where he had left George Rivers, he found that the latter had already taken his departure for the British camp, where, as the reader has heard, his services were greatly needed. A few days passed without any resumption of hostilities, when, on the 8th of February, Sir George Colley unexpectedly sallied out of his camp, and the action at Hooge’s Chain, between Laing’s Nek and Newcastle, on the banks of the Ingogo, was fought, with a result as discreditable and damaging to the English arms as that of Laing’s Nek had been.
“What has come to our generals and soldiers I cannot think,” said Hardy to George, when he encountered him after the battle on the field, whither both had gone to minister to the wounded and dying. “They seem to me absolutely to court defeat. The only comfort is, that they will hardly make a third attempt after two such calamitous failures.”
Chapter Twenty Four.
It seemed as if Hardy’s anticipations were going to be fulfilled. For more than a fortnight after the disaster on the banks of the Ingogo, both armies remained quietly in their camps, though both were largely reinforced. Negotiations had been opened with the English Government, which bore every appearance of an amicable solution of difficulties. On the afternoon of the 26th of February, Hardy went down to the British lines, with a white flag despatched by Joubert with him, to take some letters to George which had arrived from Dykeman’s Hollow. It was some time before he could find his friend, the whole camp being in a state of extraordinary bustle and confusion. Officers and men were hurrying about; one of the guns had been brought out, the horses already harnessed, and the gunners and drivers belonging to it were all in readiness, it appeared, for some immediate movement. Every face bore token that something of grave importance was about to take place.
“What does this mean, George?” asked Hardy as they shook hands. “Sir George Colley cannot anticipate an attack. Everything in the Boer camp, which I have only just left, is quite quiet, and the peace negotiations are proceeding prosperously.”
“I cannot tell you, Hardy, what it does mean,” answered George. “I hear vague rumours, but they are not to be trusted. One thing, however, is certain, and that is that Sir George Colley cannot get over his defeats by these Boers. I fancy he at first entertained the same contempt for them which English people generally feel. He thought that they were a race of cowards, who would shoot down helpless savages from a safe distance, but dared not face soldiers in a field of battle.”