The Kopje Garrison Part 6

"Oh, we've accounted for them. Cut them off from the ford and surrounded them. Fifteen, and bagged the lot, horses and all."

"You were a precious long time coming, though, Roby," grumbled d.i.c.kenson. "We seem to have been firing here all day."

"That's grat.i.tude!" said the officer. "We came as quickly as we could. Nice job, too, to advance on a gang well under cover and double covered by the strong body across the river. There must have been sixty or seventy of them; but," added the captain meaningly, "sixty or seventy have not gone back. How many do you think are down? We've accounted for a dozen, I should say, hors de combat."

"I don't know," said Drew shortly, "and don't want to."

"What do you say, d.i.c.kenson?" asked the captain.

"The same as Lennox here."

"Come, come, speak out and don't be so thin-skinned. We've got to report to Lindley."

"Six haven't moved since," said d.i.c.kenson, looking uneasy now that the excitement of the fight was at an end; "and I should say twice as many more wounded."

"Serve 'em right. Their own fault," said the captain.

It was decided to be too risky a proceeding to cross the river, for the Boers were certain to be only a short distance away, sheltered in some advantageous position, waiting to try and retrieve their dead and wounded; so a small party was posted by the ford to guard against any crossing of the river, and then the prisoners were marched off towards the village a couple of miles distant, where the detachment of infantry and mounted men had been holding the Boers across the river in check for some weeks past.

A few shots followed them from a distance at first; but the enemy had received quite as much punishment as they desired upon that occasion, and soon ceased the aggressive, being eager for a truce to communicate with the little rear-guard posted in the scrub by the river so as to recover their wounded and dead.

On the way back to the village the two young officer's had to relate in full their experience, which was given in a plain, unvarnished way; and then as a sharp descent was reached, and the rescued officers caught sight of the well-guarded prisoners marching on foot, their Bechuana ponies having been appropriated by their captors, d.i.c.kenson began to grow sarcastic.

"Glad you've made such a nice lot of prisoners, Roby," he said.

"Thanks," said the officer addressed, smiling contentedly. "Not so bad-eh? The colonel will be delighted. Nice useful lot of ponies-eh?"

"Ye-es. The old man must be delighted. We're all about starving, and you're taking him about a score more mouths to feed."

"Eh?" cried the captain, aghast. "Why, of course; I never thought of that."

"d.i.c.kenson did," said Lennox, laughing. "A thing like this touches him to the heart-I mean lower down."

"You hold your tongue, my fine fellow," growled d.i.c.kenson. "You're as bad as I am. I don't like the fighting, but I'm ready to do my share if you'll only feed me well. I feel as if I'd been losing flesh for weeks."

"And done you good," said Lennox seriously. "You were much too fat."

"Look here, Drew," growled the young man addressed; "do you want to quarrel?"

"Certainly not," was the reply. "I've had quite enough for one day."

Further conversation was prevented by their approach to the village, which was built at the foot of a precipitous kopje, the spot having been chosen originally for its fertility consequent upon the fact that a copious spring of fresh water rose high up among the rocks to form the little stream and gully at whose mouth the young officers had met with their fis.h.i.+ng experience.

This village, known as Groenfontein, had been held now for nearly two months by the little force, the idea being that it was to be occupied for a day at the most, and vacated after the Boers had been driven off. But though this had been done at once, the enemy had, as Drew Lennox said, a disgracefully unmilitary way of coming back after they had been thoroughly beaten. They had come back here after the driving; others had come to help them from east, west, north, and south, and as soon as they were strengthened they had set to work to drive the British force away or capture it en bloc; but that was quite another thing.

For, as d.i.c.kenson said, the colonel's instructions were to drive and not be driven. So the Boers were driven as often as there was a chance; and then, as they kept on returning, the force had to stay, and did so, getting plenty of opportunities for making fresh drives, till the colonel felt that it was all labour in vain and waste of time.

Under these circ.u.mstances he sent messengers explaining the position and asking for instructions. But his despatches did not seem to have been delivered, for no orders came to him, and their bearers did not return. Consequently, like a st.u.r.dy British officer, he fell back upon his first command to hold the Boers in check at Groenfontein, soon finding that they held him in check as well, for even had he felt disposed to retire, it would have been impossible except at the cost of losing half his men; so he held on and waited for the relief which he felt would sooner or later come.

But it did not come sooner, and he relied on the later, making the best of things. Colonel Lindley's way of making the best of things was to return a contemptuous reply to the demands made from time to time for his surrender.

The first time this demand was made was when the enemy had him in front and rear. The envoys who came informed him that his position was perfectly hopeless, for he could not cross the river in face of the strong body the Boers had lining the banks; and that they had him in front, and if his people did not give up their arms they would be shot down to a man.

The colonel's answer to this was, "Very well, gentlemen; shoot away."

His officers were present, and Drew Lennox and Bob d.i.c.kenson exchanged glances at the word "gentlemen," for the emba.s.sy looked like anything but that; and they departed in an insolent, braggart way, and very soon after began to shoot, using up a great many cartridges, but doing very little harm. Then, growing weary, they gave up, and the colonel set one part of his men to work with the spade till dark, making rifle-pit and trench; while as soon as it was dark he despatched fully half of his force to occupy the precipitous mound at the back of the village, making a natural stronghold which he intended to connect with the camp by means of stone walls the next day, having a shrewd notion that if he did not the Boers would, for the mound commanded the place, and would soon make it untenable.

Captain Roby's company and another were sent to this duty, and the men were carefully posted-Lennox and d.i.c.kenson on the highest part, which was naturally the most windy and cold. Their orders, which they conveyed to the men, were to keep the strictest lookout, though the enemy had retired far enough away; for the Boers had at that early period of the war already acquired the credit of being slim and clever at ambush and night attack.

But the night was well advanced, and the two friends, after visiting post after post, were sitting huddled up in their greatcoats, longing for hot coffee or cigarettes, and feeling obliged to rub their sleepy and tired eyes from time to time, weary as they were with straining to see danger creeping up over the black, dark veldt, but straining in vain.

"B-r-r-r! What humbug it is to call this Africa!" growled d.i.c.kenson.

"What do you mean?" replied Lennox.

"Mean? Why, it's so cold. Where's your blazing heat and your sand? One might be at the North Pole. Ow! don't do that."

He started violently, for Lennox had suddenly stolen out a hand and pinched his arm sharply.

"Quiet! Listen!"

d.i.c.kenson drew his breath hard and strained his ears instead of his eyes.

"Well? Can't hear anything."

"Hist! Listen again."

There was a pause.

"Hear anything?"

"Yes; but I don't know what it is," said d.i.c.kenson, laying a hand behind one ear and leaning forward with his head on one side.

"What does it sound like?"

"Something like a heavy wagon coming along a road with its wheels m.u.f.fled."

"Heavy wagon drawn by oxen?"

"Yes," replied d.i.c.kenson.

"Mightn't it be a big gun?"

"It might," said d.i.c.kenson dubiously; "but what, could a big gun be doing out there on the open veldt?"

"Lying still in its carriage, and letting itself be drawn to the place where it was to be mounted."

"Yes, of course it might be; but it couldn't."