Charge! Part 57

"Oh no. I don't think he would use his a.s.sagai except in an emergency."

"That would be an emergency," said the Sergeant. "I've thought it out over my pipe, and this is what I make of it: he has followed Master Moriarty, and I expect that we shall never hear of him again."

"What! Joeboy?" I cried.

"No; Master Moriarty."

"But that would be murder-a.s.sa.s.sination," I cried.

"You can use what fine words you like over it," said the Sergeant gruffly; "but I call it, at a time like this, war; and when Mr Joe Black comes back-as I expect he will, soon-and you ask him, he'll say he was only fighting for his master; and that's you."

I was silenced for the moment, though my ideas were quite opposed to the Sergeant's theory.

But Denham spoke out at once.

"That's all very well, Sergeant," he said, "but Mr Moray's black boy is about as savage over his ideas of justice as he is over his ideas of decency in dress. He looks upon this man as an enemy, and his master's enemy; and if he overtakes Moriarty he won't have a bit of scruple about sticking his spear through him."

"And serve him jolly well right, sir."

"No, no; that won't do," said Denham.

"Not at all," I cried, recovering my balance a little.

"But isn't he a renegade, sir?" said the Sergeant.

"We call him so," replied Denham.

"And didn't he attack you two and try to murder you, sir, just as he did poor Sam Wren?"

"Yes, I grant all that, Sergeant; but we're not savages. Now, suppose you had gone in chase of this man, and say you had caught him. Would you have put your revolver to his head and blown out his brains?"

"That ain't a fair question, sir," said the Sergeant gruffly; "and all I've got to say is, that I'm very glad, knowing what I do, that I wasn't in pursuit of him, sword in hand."

"You mean to say that you would have cut him down?" I cried.

"I don't mean to say anything at all, Mr Private Moray, only that I've got my feelings as a soldier towards cowards. There, I won't say another word."

"Then I'll speak for you," said Denham. "You wouldn't have cut the scoundrel down, nor shot him, but you'd have done your duty as trained soldiers do. You'd have taken him prisoner, and brought him in to the Colonel."

"And he'd have had him put up against the nearest wall before a dozen rifles and shot for a murderous traitor, sir."

"But not without a court-martial first, Briggs," said Denham sternly.

"I suppose you're right, sir; but I don't see what comfort a trial by court-martial can be to a man who knows that he's sure to be found guilty and shot."

"But not till he has been justly condemned," I put in.

"Like to know any more about what's going on round about the fort, sir?" said the Sergeant, after giving me a queer look.

"Yes, of course," cried Denham.

"Well, not much, sir. Colonel's always going round about to see that the men don't expose themselves, and I expect that at any time there'll be orders given that neither the horses nor the bullocks are to be driven out to graze."

"Then they are all driven out?" I said.

"Of course, sir. We couldn't keep the bullocks alive without."

"I wonder the Boers don't shoot them," I said.

"Don't like shooting their own property," said the Sergeant, with a grin. "They're always hoping they'll get 'em back; but they'll have to look sharp if they do, for if they're much longer we shall have eaten the lot."

"Take some time to do that, Sergeant," said Denham, laughing.

"Not such a very long time, sir. You see, the men have nothing but water to drink; tobacco's getting scarce; there's no bread, no coffee, no vegetables; and the men have very little to do but rub down their horses to keep 'em clear of ticks: the consequence is that they try to make up for it all by keeping on eating beef, and then sleeping as hard as ever they can."

"I don't know what we can do unless we cut our way through the enemy," said Denham sadly. "I go on thinking the matter over and over, and always come back to the same idea."

"No wonder," said the Sergeant. "That is the only way; so the sooner you two get fit to mount the better, for I don't see that anything can be done till then."

"Are there any more-cripples?" said Denham bitterly.

"Oh, there's a few who'd be off duty if things were right," said the Sergeant cheerfully; "but they make s.h.i.+ft. The Colonel limps a bit, and uses his sword like a walking-stick; six have got arms in slings, and four or five bullet-scratches and doctor's patches about 'em; but there isn't a man who doesn't show on parade and isn't ready to ride in a charge."

"But riding," I said, with the eagerness of one who is helpless-"what about the horses?"

"All in fine condition, gentlemen," said the Sergeant emphatically, "but a bit too fine, and they look thin. The Colonel's having 'em kept down so that they shan't get too larky from having no work to do."

"But they're not sent out to graze now?" I said.

"Oh yes, regularly."

"Then why don't the Boers shoot them, so as to make them helpless?"

The Sergeant chuckled.

"Colonel's too smart for them," he said. "The bullocks are sent out in the day with a strong guard on foot to keep behind the oxen, but the horses go out as soon as it's dark, every one with his man to lead him, and all ready for an attack. Ah! but it's miserable work, and I shall be very glad when you two gentlemen are ready to mount again, so that we can go."

"You'll have to go without us, Briggs," said Denham sadly. "I don't suppose the Boers will shoot us if we're taken prisoners."

"That's just what the Colonel's likely to do, sir. It's his regular way with his men. I must be off now, though. Time's up. You'll like to see this, though, Mr Denham?"

The Sergeant began to fumble in his pouch, bringing out several cartridges before he found what he wanted-a dirty-looking piece of milky quartz.

"What have you got there?" we asked in a breath.

"Stuff the men are finding in a hole at the back of the cook's fireplace."

"Why, it's gold ore," I said eagerly.