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Charge! - A Story of Briton and Boer, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. "Il Faut Manger" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. "IL FAUT MANGER" I felt dizzy, and every movement was painful when I arose. The air was so cold that I was half-numbed; and in addition to my bruised side I ached from the tightness of my belts, and my sword-hilt and revolver seemed to have made great dents into my flesh. However, with an effort I lifted my rifle, which had been my bedfellow on the sandy earth, and hurriedly joined the others in making good the defence of the great gateway, with its newly-made protecting screen of stones. There was no desperate encounter, however, to send the blood rushing through our veins; for, as we reached the entrance, we heard the men on duty removing stones while they carried on a desultory conversation with the new arrivals; and directly afterwards a thrill of joy ran through me, and a curious choking sensation rose in my throat, for somewhere in front where it was darkest I heard the Major say: "That's grand news, Denham--thirty of you, and forty horses?" Then his voice was drowned in the loud, spontaneous cheer which rose from those about me, in which at the moment I felt too weak to join. "Here, get in, all of you," cried the Major as soon as he could make himself heard. "You're sure there is no pursuit?" "Quite," came in Denham's familiar voice. "We have had a very long round since we wore cut off, and have not heard a soul as we came through the darkness." "How about wounds?" said the Major. "Pretty tidy, sir," said Denham. "The poor horses have got the worst of it. But we're all starving, and choked with thirst." "We can manage water for you," said the Major; "but I'm afraid to say anything about food." "Never mind," said Denham cheerfully; and then he seemed to turn away, for his voice sounded distant as he said--to the men with him, of course--"Tighten your belts another hole, lads. We'll forage for food to-morrow." "That we will," cried the Major; and then out of the darkness came the trampling of horses' feet, followed by a few neighs, which were answered from where the horses stood together in the court. Meanwhile I tried to get to the front, but could not, and had to wait till the men began to file in after the homes; but at last I heard Denham's voice again. "Not a bad wound?" he said. "A nasty but clean cut from some Boer who had one of our swords." "But tell me," said Denham eagerly--"young Val Moray? Did he get in safely?" "Any one would think he was a cousin or brother," said the Major pettishly. "Yes, he managed all right, after giving up his horse to the Colonel and getting him in after he had been down." "Val did?" cried Denham eagerly. "I am glad!" I did not wait to hear any more, and did not try to force my way through the dense pack of our men, but worked hard to get back to the spot where I had been lying down; and upon reaching it, with the satisfactory feeling that there was to be no more fighting that night, I dropped into my old place, after shifting hilt and belt so as not to lie upon them again. Then, in spite of hunger and pain, a comfortable and exhilarating sensation stole over me, which I did not know to be the approach of sleep till I was roused by the reveille, and sprang up in a sitting posture, when the first man my eyes fell on was Denham, who was peering about among the troopers as if for something he had lost. "Oh, there you are!" he cried as he caught sight of me; and the next minute we were standing together, hand grasping hand. "Denham, old fellow," I said huskily, "I thought you were either a prisoner or dead." "Not a bit of it," he replied; "but it wasn't the Boers' fault. Just look at my head." "I was looking," I said, for a closely-folded handkerchief was tied diagonally across his forehead. "Is the cut deep?" "Deep? No," he replied. "Deep as the beast could make it--that is, to the bone. I say, what a blessing it is to have a thick skull! My old schoolmaster used to tell me I was a blockhead, and I thought he was wrong; but he was right enough, or I shouldn't be here." "The loss is bad enough without that," I replied. "Horrible; but they've paid dearly for it," he said. "But I say, what about rations? We can't starve." I told him what I had overheard during the officers' talk with the Sergeant. "Yes," said Denham peevishly; "but that means waiting till to-morrow morning. We must make a sally and get something." "I wish we could," I said, for now that my mind was at rest I felt ravenously hungry. "Hullo! what's going on there?" Denham turned sharply, and, to our astonishment, Sergeant Briggs was coming from the gate leading half-a-dozen men stripped to shirt and breeches, carrying in half-quarters of some newly-killed animal. "Why, hullo!" I cried, "what luck! They've found and been slaughtering an ox." "Yes," said Denham dryly, "and there's more meat out yonder. We shan't starve. I'd forgotten." "Forgotten! Forgotten what?" "It isn't beef," he said quietly. "It's big antelope." "What! eland?" I cried joyously. "No; the big, solid-hoofed antelope that eats like nylghau or quagga." "What do you mean?" I said wonderingly, as I mentally ran over all the varieties of antelope I had seen away on the veldt. "The big sort with iron soles to their hoofs. Two poor brutes, bleeding to death, dropped about a hundred yards away as we came in last night." "Horse!" I exclaimed. "Ugh!" "Oh yes, it's all very well to say 'Ugh!' old proud stomach; but I feel ready to sit down to equine sirloin and enjoy it. Why shouldn't horse be as good as ox or any of the antelopes of the veldt? You wouldn't turn up your nose at any of them." "But horse!" I said. "It seems so--so--so--" "So what? Oh, my grandmother! There isn't a more dainty feeder than a horse. Why, he won't even drink dirty water unless he's pretty well choking with thirst. Horse? Why, I wouldn't refuse a well-cooked bit of the toughest old moke that ever dragged a cart." "But what about fire?" I said. "Oh, there's plenty of stuff of one kind and another to get a fire together. They break up a box to start it, and then keep it going with bones and veldt fuel. Look; they're coming in with a lot now." "I say," I cried, as a sudden thought struck me. "Here, Sergeant!" "What do you say?" cried Denham. I said it to the Sergeant, proposing that he should make a roasting fire under the chimney of the old furnace; and as I spoke his face expanded into a genial smile. "Splendid!" he said, and hurried away to shout to Joeboy; and in a very short time the smoke was rolling out of the top of the furnace chimney for probably the first time since the ancient race of miners ceased to smelt their gold-ore in the place marked on the maps of over a century ago as the Land of Ophir, but which has lain forgotten since, till our travellers rediscovered it within the last score of years. _ |
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