Jack Lovat stared somewhat rudely at the Irregular and said, "I thought as much! We had him from Van Donnop's. The beggar deserves shooting."
Moses was the only shady character in Mr. Lovat's establishment. Before the outbreak of the war, Moses, a Kaffir of immense strength and stature, had been a most exemplary character; but until news of the small disaster to the British in the armoured-train incident at Kraipan reached the remote district of Orangefontein, Moses on various occasions had asked permission to visit Van Donnop's farm, ostensibly for the purpose of seeing a negress employed by the Dutch farmer, and—Mrs. Lovat possessing as she did a sentimental nature—his requests were always acceded to.
"And so Moses has left the Kopje Farm, sir?" queried Jack. "It looks somewhat fishy. Upon my word, it seems as though Moses had some hand in the disappearance of my father's money."
The New Zealanders reached the broken ground and dismounted, and Major Salkeld awaited the appearance of his scouts, who were now hidden by a bend in the donga.
Presently the 'pip-pop' of Mauser fire was heard in the direction of Langeman's Nek, and the scouts bending low in their saddles, came at a rattling pace towards the place where their comrades were grimly and silently awaiting events.
One of the scouts, Burnand by name, had a ghastly expression on his face, and it was evident that he had been severely wounded, when he dismounted from his horse, as he tottered and fell on the ground.
"A little water, sir, if you please," he gasped, looking at his riding-breeches, which were drenched with blood. "I've been hit. Take my bandolier, for I'm——"
The trooper never finished the sentence, for when a water-bottle was being held to his lips, he gave a sigh, and died. He had been hit by a bullet in the stomach.
"Your report, Fielding, quick," said the major, addressing the other scout.
"The enemy are closing in on the mouth of the donga, sir," said the trooper. "If a dozen men are at once hurried forward, they may be able to check them."