Mr Daveney hastened to send Sir Adrian a dispatch announcing his suspicions of Lyle’s confederacy with the rebel Boers, but suggested that the idea should not be mooted for the present.
The roar of cannon and the sharp rattle of musketry proclaimed to the settlers at Annerley, on the 18th of March, that the colonial forces to the westward were engaged with the Kafir warriors.
It thundered on till night; then the fiery telegraphs were lit again upon the mountain ridges—silence fell—heaven and earth grew dark again. Morning came, the sun struggled with flying mists, and again the echoes from shot and shell and musket reverberated from kloof to kloof, and filled the hearts of the listeners with terror and dismay.
The little bushman kept watch upon the top of the block-house from dawn till sunset, and Marion shared his vigil for hours. They were strongly contrasted, were those two beings, both fashioned by God’s wise hand. The girl young, blooming, sunny-haired, and graceful; the bushman stunted, ugly, and uncouth; nevertheless, they had many thoughts and feelings in common.
Another day was passing, and still the battle raged; but in the afternoon there was a lull. The very elements were still, and a soft rain descended gently.
Still May and Marion kept watch together.
“Express!” shouted May.
Marion’s lips were closed rigidly, her teeth chattered within; she knew not how she reached the lower apartment: her father had left it; the door stood open; the riders galloped in by the trampled vineyard paths.
“They are beaten, of course?” said Mr Daveney to the captain of the riders.