CHAPTER XX.
THE SKIRMISH AT EUZANGONYAN.
The transmission rearwards of the Prince's remains causing a day's delay in the advance of the division, Florian gladly availed himself of it to write to Dulcie a letter full of love and all the enthusiastic outpouring of his heart to one who was so far away; to express his astonishment on learning that she was an inmate of the same house with Shafto, their bête noir, of whom she was to beware, he added impressively.
He told of his military success—of all that might be in store for them yet; for Florian had, if small means at present, the vast riches of youth and hope to draw upon, especially in his brighter moments, and—if spared—his future promotion from the rank of second-lieutenant was now but a thing of time.
There had not been much brightness in his life latterly; but it was impossible for him not to admit that the dawn of a happier day had come, and that he had made substantial progress in his profession.
He told her—among many other things—of Vivian Hammersley's friendship and favour for himself, even when in the rank and file, and of his pride and gratitude therefor; of the change her letter to himself had made in Hammersley's views of Miss Melfort, for whom he sent an enclosure from the Captain, lest watchful eyes—perchance those of Shafto—might examine too closely the contents of the Craigengowan post-bag; and from old experience they knew what the man was capable of—not respecting even 'the property of H.M. Postmaster-General.'
For, now that Florian was an officer, his friend Hammersley, though proud as Lucifer and at times haughty to a degree, was, under the circumstances, not loth to avail himself of Dulcie's assistance in this matter, so necessary to his own happiness; so the two missives in one were despatched, and with an emotion of thankfulness that was deep and genuine, Florian dropped it into the regimental post-bag at the orderly-room tent, for conveyance with the mail to Durban.
The Second Division began its forward march on the 3rd of January, and encamped half a mile distant from the kraal near which the Prince Imperial had perished, while Sir Evelyn Wood's column, advancing by the left, proceeded along the further side of the Ityotyosi. Already the bad rations to which they were reduced—eight pounds of inferior oats and no hay—were telling severely on the horses of the 17th Lancers and Mounted Infantry.
On the 4th, when encamped on the bank of the Nondweni River, a cavalry patrol, under Redvers Duller, Hammersley, and others, had a narrow escape from being cut off by two thousand five hundred Zulus, of whom, on the following day, the entire cavalry column went forth in search.
When the whole mounted force was getting under arms, Hammersley threw away the end of a cigar before falling in, and said to Florian—
'Look here, old fellow, I have been thinking about you. I am not a millionnaire, you know, but I have enough and to spare. You have not, I presume—pardon me for saying so; but now that you are an officer, and must want many things, my cheque-book is at your disposal, if you wish to draw on old Chink the Paymaster.'