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Charge! - A Story of Briton and Boer, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 29. Another Discovery |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. ANOTHER DISCOVERY Denham and I went out early next day with a small party and an empty wagon to go over the ground between our laager and the Boer lines, following the route taken with the captured wagons, to make sure that no wounded and helpless men were left on the veldt, and to collect such rifles and ammunition as had been left. A sharp lookout was kept against surprise; but there was no need. Denham's glass showed that the Boers, probably satisfied with their reverses of the previous day, were keeping to their lines. We went as far as the spot where the first attack on us was made, finding only a few rifles as we went, noticing on our way sixteen dead horses--ghastly-looking objects, for near every one numerous loathsome birds rose heavily, flying to a short distance; and footprints all around in the soft earth showed that hyenas had been at the miserable banquet. The ground here and there also showed the unmistakable tracks of lions; but I am not sure they had been partakers. "Well, I'm precious glad there's no burying of the dead, or bringing in wounded Boers as prisoners," said Denham as we rode back slowly side by side. "I don't mind the fighting when my monkey's up--it all seems a matter of course then; but the afterwards--the poor dead chaps with all the enemy gone out of them, and the suffering wounded asking you for water, and whether you think they'll die--it makes me melancholy." "It's horrible," I said; "but it was none of our seeking." "No; it's the Boers' own fault--the beasts! Fighting for their liberty and patriotism, they call it. They won't submit to being slaves to the Queen. Such bosh! Slaves indeed! Did you ever feel that you led the life of a slave under the reign of our jolly good Queen?" "Pooh!" I exclaimed. "Pooh! puff! stuff!--that's what it is, old fellow. They're about the most obstinate, stupid, ignorant brutes under the sun. They don't know when they're well off as subjects of Great Britain, so they'll have to be taught." "Of course," I said. "But they are brave." "Well, yes, in a way," said Denham grudgingly. "They'll fight if they're ten or a dozen to one, and can get behind stones or wagons to pot us; but they haven't got sense enough to know when they're well off, nor yet to take care of six wagon-loads of good grain and meal, and nearly a hundred and fifty oxen." "Well, no; they were stupid there," I said. "Stupid, Lieutenant Moray!" "What!" I exclaimed. "Do you know what you're saying?" "Oh yes; all right. You're not a commissioned officer yet, but you will be. Promoted for special bravery and service in the field." "Nonsense!" I said, flushing up. "Oh, but you will be, sure. Not that I think you deserve it. There wasn't much risk." "Oh no," I said; "only the risk of being taken, and shot for a traitor, a thief, and a spy." "That's only what the Doppies would call it, and they're idiots." "If a fellow is going to be shot," I said, "it doesn't make much difference to him whether he's shot by a wise man or a fool." "Oh, I don't know," said Denham quickly. "I'd rather be shot by a wise man than by a Boer pig. But there was no risk. You and that big nigger went in the dark, and you had luck on your side, and--Oh, I say, Val, you did it splendidly! I had a good tuck-out of mealie-porridge this morning, and three big slices of prime beef frizzled. I feel quite a new man with all that under my jacket, and ready to take two Boers single-handed." "Yes, a good meal does make a difference," I said, smiling with pleasant recollections of my own breakfast. "Difference! Oh, it was splendid! I felt as if I could have voted for you to be made colonel on the spot, and black Joeboy adjutant, when I caught sight of you coming with six wagons and teams instead of one. My dear boy, you've won the affection of every one in the corps, from the Colonel right down to the cooks. It's only cupboard-love, of course; but they're very fond of you now. We were going to chair you round the big court last night, but the Colonel stopped it. 'Let the poor fellow have a good rest,' he said. But we did all drink your health with three times three--in water. Here--hullo! What game do you call that?" He pointed to where, half a mile away, a dozen of our men were riding out, closely followed by the bullocks we had captured overnight. "Taking the teams out to graze, I suppose. The poor beasts must be well fed to keep them in condition." "Of course. But how do we know that they won't all bolt back for the Boers' camp? They're Boer bullocks, you know. Oh! I'll never forgive the Colonel if he loses all that beef." "The poor brutes will only make for the nearest patches of grass and bush," I said, "and their guard will take care to head them back if they seem disposed to stray." "But is any one on the lookout with a glass on the wall?" "Sure to be," I said. "I'm not so sure," cried Denham impatiently. "Why, there must be going on for six hundred sirloins there, without counting other tit-bits; and if the bullocks are taken care of, each one is a sort of walking safe full of prime meat for the troops." "There--look!" I said; "they're settling down to graze, and the guard is spreading out between them and the open veldt." "Yes, I see," said Denham anxiously; "but I hope they'll take great care. That job ought to be ours." But it was not, and I did not want it. I said so, too. "That's bosh," replied Denham. "You say so because you're not hungry; but just wait till you are, and then you'll be as fidgety about the bullocks as I am." "But you're not hungry now," I said laughingly. "Well, no--not at present; but I shall be soon. I haven't made up the balance of two days' loss yet. Ugh! only fancy--grilled cat's-meat for a commissioned officer in Her Majesty's service! Ugh! To think that I was compelled by sheer hunger to eat horse! I'd swear off all flesh-feeding for good if it wasn't for that beef." He burst into a hearty fit of laughing then, and we rode on, chatting about our position and the fact that the Boers seemed to consider they could not do better for their side than keep us shut up as we were till we surrendered as prisoners of war. "That's it, evidently," said Denham. "They hate us horribly, for we'd been doing a lot of mischief amongst them before you joined, as well as ever since." "Shall we be able to cut our way through before long?" I asked. "I don't know, old fellow," he replied. "We ought to," I said, "because we could be of so much use to the General's troops." "Well, I don't know so much about that," said Denham as we neared the fortified gateway, with its curtain of empty wagons. "I'm beginning to think that we're being a great deal of help to the General here." "How?" I asked wonderingly. "Our corps is completely useless." "Oh no, it isn't, my little man. Look here; I'm of opinion that we're surrounded by quite a couple of thousand mounted men." "Yes, perhaps there are," I said, "at a guess." "Well, isn't that being of use to the British General? We're keeping these fellows fully occupied, so that they can't be harassing his flanks and rear with all this mob of sharpshooters, who know well how to use their rifles." "I say," I cried, "what's the matter yonder?" "Nothing! Where?" "Look at the baboons right at the far end of the kopje. They're racing about in a wonderful state of excitement." "Smell cooking, perhaps," said Denham. "Here, Sergeant," he continued, calling up Briggs, "take Mr Moray and a couple of men. Canter round yonder and see if you can make anything out. Scout. Perhaps the brutes can see the Boers advancing." In another minute we were cantering round the ragged outskirts of the great pile of stones, where they came right down to the plain, among which were plenty of grassy and verdant patches, little gorges and paths up amongst the tumbled-together blocks; and as we rode along we startled apes by the dozen from where they were feeding, and sent them shrieking and chattering menacingly, as they rushed up to the higher parts. It was away at the extreme end where the main body of the curious-looking, half-dog, half-human creatures were gathered, all in motion, and evidently much exercised by something below them on the side farthest from where we approached. "They're playing some game, Mr Moray," said the Sergeant, speaking quite respectfully to me, and, as I thought, slightly emphasising the "Mister," which sounded strange. "Tell you what it is: one of the young ones has tumbled into a gully and broken his pretty little self." "Give the order to unsling rifles, Sergeant," I said quietly, "and approach with caution." "Eh? What! You don't think there's an ambuscade--do you?" "No," I said as I watched the actions of the apes keenly; "but I do think there's a lion lying up somewhere." "A lion!" "Yes; one of the brutes that were feeding on the dead horses in the night. He has made for the shelter yonder, and is in hiding." "And the monkeys have found him, and are mobbing the beggar now he's sleeping off his supper?" "That's it, I think," I replied. "Then let's get his skin if we can. Steady, all, and don't fire till you get a good chance." We checked our horses so as to approach at a walk, the Sergeant sending me off a few yards to his left, and the other men opening out to the right. I fully expected to see the baboons go scurrying off as we approached; but, on the contrary, they grew more excited as, with rifle ready and Sandho's rein upon his neck, I picked my way alongside the others in and out among the great blocks of stone at the foot of the kopje, where there was ample space for a couple of score of lions to conceal themselves. But I felt sure that as soon as we came near enough, and after sneaking cautiously along for some distance, the one we sought would suddenly break cover and bound off away across the veldt. Wherever I came to a bare patch of the sandy earth I scanned narrowly in search of "pug," as hunting-men call the traces; but I could not make out a single footprint. There were those of the baboons by the dozen, and the hoof-tracks of horses, probably those of some of our men when they made a circuit of the rocky hillock. Every hoof-mark was made by horses going in the direction we were; but still no sign of a lion. "Keep a sharp lookout," said the Sergeant softly; and I remember thinking his words unnecessary, seeing that every one was keenly on the alert. "Seems to me a mare's-nest," said the Sergeant to me dryly, as he cocked his eye and pointed down at the footprints. "No," I said; "the baboons have got something below them on the other side, or they wouldn't keep on like that. Ah! look out!" "What can you see?" cried the Sergeant. "Marks of blood on the ground here. The lion has caught one of the baboons, I expect, and he's devouring it over yonder under where the rest are dancing about and chattering." "And enough to make them," said the Sergeant between his teeth. "Shoot the beggar if you can, sir." "I'll try," I replied; and Sandho advanced cautiously, with the cover getting more dense, till, just as I was separated from the Sergeant by a few big blocks of ironstone, from out of whose chinks grew plenty of brushwood, Sandho stopped short, threw up his muzzle, and neighed. "What is it, old fellow?" I said softly, as I debated whether I should dismount so as to make sure of my shot. "There, go on." The horse took two steps forward, and then stopped again. "Here's something, Sergeant," I said. "Push on round the end of that block and you'll see too." "Lion?" "No, no. Go on." Sergeant Briggs pushed on, and uttered a loud ejaculation. "One of the Boers' horses?" I said. "One of the Boers, my lad," he cried. "Close in there." The two men drew nearer, and the next minute we were all gazing down at where one of the enemy's wounded horses had evidently pitched forward upon its knees and thrown its wounded rider over its head to where he lay, a couple of yards in advance, with a terrible gash across his forehead, caused by falling upon a rough stone. But that was not the cause of his death, for his jacket and shirt were torn open and a rough bandage had slipped down from the upper part of his chest, where a bullet-wound showed plainly enough that his lungs must have been pierced, and that he had bled to death. "Poor chap!" said the Sergeant softly; "he's got it. Well, he died like a brave man. Came up here, I s'pose, for shelter." "There's another over yonder," I said excitedly, for about fifty yards away from where we were grouped, and high above us, the baboons were leaping about and chattering more than ever. "Shouldn't wonder," said the Sergeant; "and he aren't dead. Trying to scare those ugly little beggars away." "I'll soon see," I said; and as I urged Sandho on, the shrinking beast cautiously picked his way past the dead group, and we soon got up to a narrow rift full of bushes, the path among the rocks running right up to the highest point, towards which the baboons began to retire now, chattering away, but keeping a keen watch on our proceedings. "Another dead horse, Sergeant," I shouted back. "Never mind the horse," cried Briggs. "Be ready, and shoot the wounded man down at sight if he doesn't throw up his hands. 'Ware treachery." I pressed on into the gully, at whose entrance the second dead horse lay, and the next minute, as Sandho forced the bushes apart with his breast, I saw marks of blood on a stone just beneath where the apes had been chattering in their excitement; and then I drew rein and felt completely paralysed, for a faint voice, whose tones were unmistakable, cried: "Help! Wather, for the love of Heaven!" _ |
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