"And it was at this brat's father's farm where some of our men were repulsed only two nights ago," said Steyn, with growing excitement. "I wish Maartens had shot him as he lay on the veldt."
"I had rather he belonged to us, Veldt-cornet," observed Maartens. "He is a slim youth, and, if his heart had been in the right place, would have been of great service to the cause."
"Yes, maybe, Maartens," growled the officer. "Now that he has got away, he will alarm the whole country."
"Van Donnop says that the New Zealanders will come this way," said Maartens, pointing to the upper end of the donga. "The rooinek must move on his left flank, as the country is very broken and cut up. However, you will see. We shall catch them in a trap, and then march straight for Springbokfontein and Port Nolloth. I am quite right."
"You always had good sense, Maartens; but if we catch this young Lovat, a bullet will be too good for him; a piece of stout rope and a tree—the aasvogel shall do the rest. The men have all breakfasted?"
"All have had coffee and biltong, Veldt-cornet," answered Maartens, who was acting as second in command of the patrol, which as things went, might have been termed a reconnaissance in force.
Let us follow the fortunes of Jack Lovat, the daring boy-fighter of the Kopje Farm.
While the veldt-cornet was talking to Burgher Du Plessis, Maartens brought up the roan mare, and acting on the spur of the moment, Jack, while pretending to examine the horse's head-gear, sprang on its back, and as narrated, sped like the wind to the other end of the donga.
His breath came hard and fast, and every moment he expected being struck by a bullet. He wondered what the sensation would be like if a missile hit him, but luckily he was spared the experience.
No sooner did he reach the entrance to the donga than something seemed to whisper to him, "You must keep to the left, for there lie home and safety."