"No, he has not come yet, mother," answered Jack. "You must finish your tea. Pete wants me round at the stables. I shall be back presently;" and he went out again, but Mrs. Lovat followed him.
Pete was busily engaged in rubbing down the mare, and when Mrs. Lovat caught a glimpse of the blood on the poor creature's hide, she cried out, "Why, Jack, it is Bessie! Where is your father?" and the settler's wife burst into a flood of tears.
"You are in the way just now, mother," said Jack gently. "Go inside, until I have seen to Bessie. Something, I am afraid, has happened. The poor thing is in great pain, and I must do what I can to relieve it. Do go inside, please, mother. I will come to you presently."'
Mrs. Lovat, whose vivid imagination had conjured up all kinds of evils, obeyed Jack, and returned to the house.
Now Jack Lovat's sterling qualities of coolness and resource began to be displayed. With the skill of an experienced veterinary surgeon, he examined Bessie's wound, and then carefully washed away the coagulated blood. A gaping orifice an inch in diameter in the animal's shoulder told Jack that it was a gunshot wound and that it had been caused by a Mauser expanding bullet.
The "boys" had gathered round, all anxious to help; but Jack would allow no other hands than those of himself and Pete to touch the mare, so the Kaffirs drew back, and stood whispering among themselves.
Suddenly a clattering noise was heard, and before the "boys" could get out of the way, Pat O'Neill, mounted on Cawdor, whose chest and flanks were foam-flecked, was on the top of them, sending Zacchary and Moses tumbling to the ground.
The Irishman was bareheaded, and the arteries in his temples stood out like whipcord. He pulled Cawdor up, and dismounted. Jack, with wildly dilated eyes, queried, "What is the matter, Pat? Have you seen father?"
"No, sorr," gasped the faithful Irishman, "I haven't seen the master; but a Boer commando—bad luck to them!—is making straight for us. And I'm afraid, sorr, it will be a bad job for all of us. Their scouts are close at hand even now. You'll fight, sorr?"
"Yes, we will all fight, Pat," answered Jack proudly. "Boys, all at once to the storeroom. Pete, take Bessie into the stable and give her some water and a feed of corn. I'm sorry for mother and Mary, but it can't be helped. No surrender to the Boers!"