Their conversation was now interrupted by the entrance of two Caffre warriors, one of whom was Untsikana himself Frank, who could speak the Caffre language fairly well, at once appealed to him on Tom’s behalf, and with such success that the chief not only provided him with food and drink, and water to bathe his wounds and bruised limbs, but also procured him an old tiger-skin kaross and a pair of “veldt schoon,” to take the place of the garments of which his captors had stripped him, and which had been distributed amongst the dusky inhabitants of the kraal, so that there was no recovering them.
“Who shall say there is not some good in a Caffre?” observed Frank Jamieson as he dressed the wound on his friend’s head; “come, Tom, you must acknowledge that.”
“Your acquaintance Umpty-dumpty, or whatever his name is, is certainly not half a bad chap,” replied Tom, whose customary good spirits were returning. “But he is a wonderful exception to the rule. I wonder what they’ll do with us?” he added. “Turn us into white slaves, I expect!”
“Impossible to say,” his friend answered. “I must sound Untsikana on the subject when he next pays us a visit. I might induce him to aid us in making our escape!”
“Not you,” Tom rejoined with a shake of the head. “That would be testing his gratitude rather too much. By the way, when and how did he take you prisoner?”
“That is soon told,” said Frank. “You must know,” he went on, “that the brigadier broke up his camp at Chumie Hoek on the morning of the 19th, and marched, bag and baggage, for Block Drift.
“I was with the rear-guard in command of the remnants of our poor old corps. The enemy came down in thousands from the mountains and attacked the whole line of waggons, from front to rear, at one time, so that we had some precious hard fighting all along the route.
“Whilst the head of the column was crossing the Chumie River the rear waggons were forced to halt for a bit; and then it was that the Caffres made their hottest attack. The artillery received them with four or five rounds of canister and grape, which staggered them above a bit and checked their advance. A troop of the 7th Dragoon Guards then charged them, and I was ordered to support this charge; because, as no doubt you’ve noticed, the Caffres generally break when charged, and then re-form when the cavalry have passed through them.
“Well, during the charge my old horse ‘Trumpeter’ was killed, and I got a nasty fall, striking my head against a big stone. When I regained my feet our fellows were a hundred yards away, and before I well knew where I was, I was surrounded by a dozen Caffres, who would have quickly put an end to me had I not recognised Untsikana and called out to him to save my life. He at once interfered and would not let his men lay a finger upon me; but, in spite of my entreaties, he carried me off into the mountains. To make a long story short, I was kept, closely guarded, in a cave until yesterday morning, when Untsikana brought me on here.”
“Did the enemy capture any of the waggons?” asked Tom.