"These beggars know how to fight," muttered the major. "No wonder our men were shot down in such numbers at Magersfontein."
The Boers blazed away at the tiny handful of men belonging to the Rangers, with scarcely any reply on the latter's part. The Irregulars were well up in the art of fire discipline, and did not mean to waste a cartridge. Occasionally a slouch-hat peeped from its hiding-place on a kopje, and the report of a Lee-Enfield testified to the quickness of eyesight possessed by the men from Maoriland.
The second casualty among the New Zealanders happened to a trooper named Jordan, a miner, possessed of an adventurous spirit, who, spotting an excellent target in the shape of a Boer whose head and shoulders were exposed, raised himself on his elbows in order to get a better sight, and as he fired, received a couple of bullets in his brain. Without an exclamation, the unfortunate New Zealander rolled over on his side—a dead man.
The spurts of flame from the kopjes came nearer, until at last a terrible cross fire was poured on the isolated position held by the few Irregulars.
"We can do no good here," said Major Salkeld in a voice loud enough to be heard by all his men; "we must fall back on the others. What say you, Sergeant Oliphant?"
A braver man than the sergeant never put on putties, and he answered, "Quite right, sir; we must get back to the other fellows;" and the order was given by the major to retire beyond the bend, where the horses were being held.
Luckily the long veldt grass concealed their movements, or the New Zealanders would have suffered more heavily than they did. As it was, during the short retirement, three men were hit—one killed outright, and the others dangerously wounded.
"We cannot leave these men here," said Major Salkeld; so the stricken troopers were picked up and carried to where the odd men were standing with the horses. The rifles which the wounded and dead had dropped when they fell were not forgotten.
The Irregulars were now out of the line of the enemy's fire, and no time was lost in retreating to where Jack Lovat and the remainder of the Irregulars were posted.
One of the wounded men succumbed shortly after reaching the place of shelter, so that the morning's fatalities up to the present totalled three out of a very slender force.