“Whereabouts are they?” exclaimed the sergeant. “Reserve your fire, until you see them,” he added—a caution I should not have considered necessary. “Did any of you gentlemen catch sight of them?” he asked. Our loud laugh told him the trick we had played. “Which of you lads was keeping guard?” he enquired.
“I was,” answered one, who had been among the loudest of the snorers, and we found that the speaker had in reality the middle watch, but having dropped off, had not called his relief.
We thought it best to say as little as possible about the matter, for according to strict military discipline, the man who goes to sleep on guard in the face of an enemy, becomes liable to the punishment of death. The sergeant also, who was a good-natured fellow, was evidently anxious not to take too much notice of the matter.
We soon got the fire made up, and having breakfasted, we mounted and rode in the direction we supposed that the blacks had taken, but except the dead bodies of the men we had shot, no trace of them could we discover. They probably could not tell whether or not we had any natives with us, and therefore took care to leave no trail by which they could be followed up. They might possibly have been hiding all the time in the neighbourhood, or might—contrary to their usual custom—have travelled during the night.
After looking for an hour or more we agreed that it would be useless to search further and pursued our course towards Mr Strong’s. The sergeant’s way for some distance lay in the same direction, and he and his men therefore accompanied us. We had got about half way, when we saw a white man running towards us. He appeared to be in a desperate hurry, and as he approached made signs entreating us to stop.
“What’s the matter, my man?” inquired Bracewell as he came up.
“I am a shepherd on Mr Robinson’s out-station,” he answered. “I had driven my flock to the run this morning, when who should I see coming towards me but old Bill the hut-keeper who had a spear in his side and another in his back. He had just time to tell me that, soon after I had gone, a whole mob of blacks surrounded the hut, and to the best of his belief were still either in or about it, when, though I did my best to help him by cutting out the spear, he sank back and died. On this I was afraid to stay where I was lest the blacks should find me out, and was trying to reach Mr Strong’s or some other station, when I saw you.”
This account made us resolve at once to try and surprise the blacks. The shepherd acknowledged that he and his mate had just before got in on the sly some
bottles of rum, which it was possible the blacks might have found; and that if so, should we advance cautiously, we might very likely catch them. Not a moment however was to be lost, and one of the troopers taking the shepherd up behind him on his horse to act as our guide, we set off in the direction of the hut. It was so situated at the bottom of a hill, with a belt of trees on one side, that led by the shepherd we were able to get close up to it without being discovered.