And Jack Lovat, although only a lad, and suffering under dire apprehension, began his preparations for the defence of the Kopje Farm.
His worthy henchman, Pat O'Neill, had often detailed to him the story of the glorious defence of Rorke's Drift, where a few Britishers, many of whom were sick and wounded, for hours, amid flames and death-dealing bullets, had held at bay the flower of savage Tshingwayo's command.
"Master Jack," said Pat, as Mr. Lovat's son stopped for a moment in his work, "we will hould the place for the sake of the missis an' Miss Mary, an' please the Almighty, I hope wid the same results as we had at the Drift on the Buffalo River, when eight Victoria Crosses were won in one night."
"We will hold it to the last, Pat," responded Jack quietly. "My father has had to work hard for all he has, and the Boers shan't take it from him while my finger can pull a trigger;" and Jack Lovat meant every word he said.
CHAPTER II
A BOER LAAGER
Eleven miles north-west of Orangefontein, and an almost equal distance from Springbokfontein, a party of Boers were laagered. They were Free Staters, with a sprinkling of Hollanders and renegade Britons—the latter, few in number, having at one time served with the English colours, and owing to their misdeeds, had deserted or been drummed out of the British army.
Nearly all were in rags, for that ubiquitous cavalry leader, General French, had not allowed them a minute's rest, but had hurried and harried them hither and thither, until the majority of the burghers had grown sick and tired of the guerilla warfare, and wished for the end to come.
Their portable possessions—and indeed the latter could not be otherwise than portable—were stowed away in a few light Cape carts.
Ammunition was scarce, and had to be husbanded with the greatest care, while food could only be procured with much difficulty from the scattered farmsteads among the mountains of the Langeberg Range.