The latter was in a terrible dilemma. If he and his little force left their present place of shelter, and a section of the Boers had crept round to the other end of the donga, it would mean almost certain death, or at the best surrender, and the men riding in the ranks of the Auckland Rangers had made a solemn vow when they landed in the country never to be taken alive.
The major made up his mind. He would remain; so he set his men to work to intrench themselves, after which he despatched scouts to each end of the donga.
Jack Lovat this time would not be denied, and along with Sergeant Oliphant made his way to the mouth of the donga leading to the Kopje Farm.
Two hundred yards from the entrance they dismounted and picketed their horses. Then on hands and knees they began crawling towards the mouth of the donga.
"I hope you have the safety catch of your rifle on," whispered Oliphant. "We must have no accidents."
"It is all right, Sergeant," replied Jack.
This part of the donga was covered with long veldt grass, nearly a foot high, and although it somewhat impeded their movements, it screened them fairly well from observation.
No signs of Boers could be seen, although Jack and his companion carefully scrutinised the ridges on both sides of the donga.
At length a peculiar noise was heard. It was something between a whistle and a cry. The two scouts fell prone and lay still. Presently Jack whispered, "See, Sergeant, on your right front. The place is swarming with Boers."
Scarcely had he finished speaking when the report of a volley rang through the donga. The bullets whistled harmlessly over the heads of the Colonial and his young friend. Involuntarily Jack turned his head. The two horses lately ridden by himself and his companion were lying stretched on the ground.