Harley Greenoak's Charge Part 39

"I suppose those horrible wretches will burn down the house," Mrs Waybridge remarked, as they sped along. "Or, at any rate, plunder it of everything."

Hazel, for her part, thought the enemy would do both, when he saw the extent of his losses during the defence, for, of course, under the circ.u.mstances, the dead had been left just as they fell. But, not aspiring to the part of Job's comforter, she refrained from recording an opinion.

Those forming the relief party laughed good-naturedly among themselves as they noted how uncommonly close to the Cape cart d.i.c.k Selmes would persist in riding, some of the younger ones with a tinge of envy. He, for his part, was keeping up a string of lively talk and banter with its occupants, and he was doing it with an object. Hazel had shown wonderful pluck during the stirring events of the night, but the ghastly sights she had witnessed, and the terror she had undergone, would be likely to come back to her now in the reaction of feeling safe, and he wanted her to forget them. So he rattled on, keeping their attention turned in a more salutary direction; whereby shows out another side of that missing link which the girl had decided had been supplied. He had learnt to think.

The following day, and for days after, all manner of scare rumours kept coming in, of homesteads burnt, of such inmates as were unable to escape in time surprised and ma.s.sacred, of stock swept away, and crops destroyed. And then the savages began to watch the main road, to cut off express-riders, or small parties; indeed, it was not long before they waxed bolder, and news came of a fierce attack upon several companies of a regiment of foot, on its march to the Komgha. To make things worse, the so-called "conquered" paramount tribe swarmed back into Gcalekaland again, joining hands with the now revolted Gaika clans within the Colonial border. Thus the war, officially declared to be over, had, in actual fact, only just begun.

A few nights after its plucky defence, Waybridge's homestead went the way of the rest, but not before he had managed, with the aid of a few daring spirits, to make a dash out there and bring away some of the more portable effects, and to bury, or otherwise hide, others. But he did not complain. The marvellous escape of his household, where others had died cruel deaths, alone precluded that. In other ways, too, he had been lucky, in that for some time past he had gradually been selling off most of his stock, so that his loss was comparatively small.

As the days went by d.i.c.k Selmes began to look with wistful eyes at this or that commando pa.s.sing through, or at this or that patrol starting to reconnoitre the countryside or keep the road open. Hazel, reading what was in his mind, was furtively watching him. One day, when they were alone together, she said--

"d.i.c.k, my darling. You are eating your heart out because you want to go off again to this wretched war, and perhaps get killed. You are not content to stay and take care of poor little me."

She had grown wondrously tender towards him since the night of peril they had shared, in pursuance whereof she had laid an embargo upon any more needless adventures on his part.

"It isn't that, sweetheart," he answered. "I'm only too happy here-- with you. But I seem to be hanging back--sort of skulking--while every other fellow who can shoot straight, or not, is in the field."

She laughed softly.

"Skulking! You? Why, you've done the share of any ten men since the beginning of the war. No--no--d.i.c.k. If that's all that's troubling you, why it needn't. And now, look here, you are to go on escort duty.

You are to escort me--home."

d.i.c.k's face brightened.

"But, dearest, you are forgetting," he said, with a puzzled look. "The road isn't safe yet--not by a long chalk--for you to travel under such a small escort as myself and Greenoak."

"It'll be a bigger one. The Commandant is sending a lot of Police to King Williamstown in a day or two, and he says I may travel under their escort. Will you make one of it?"

"Won't I!" he answered delightedly.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

ENVOI.

The partridges were lying well, springing up in fine coveys from the turnips, or from corn-sheaves on the stubble, or in twos and threes, as the coveys were broken up. A soft haze hung over the fair English landscape, with its green meadow or golden stubble and vernal woodland, the latter hardly beginning to show the gorgeous wealth of autumn colour which would soon enwrap it; for it was the Glorious First.

"By Jove, Greenoak," said Sir Anson Selmes, "we thought we'd got a few record bird-shots this side of the water. But even they don't touch you. Why, man, I don't believe you've let a bird go by this morning; all killed dead too--no runners."

The two were walking together, gun on shoulder, an old and favourite pointer of Sir Anson's trotting at their heels. The morning's shoot was over and they were making for the spot where, in the cool shade of a spreading tree, luncheon was laid out and waiting. About half a field off our friend d.i.c.k was converging on the rendezvous, with the keepers and dogs, apparently engaged in animated converse with the former.

"Oh, as to that, Sir Anson, you couldn't miss a bird with a gun like this," was the modest reply; the gun being, in fact, one of a valuable pair which had been sprung upon Harley Greenoak as a surprise present from d.i.c.k and his father conjointly.

"And as to that," rejoined the latter, "there are a good many men who'd miss a good many birds with a gun like that or any other. But how things shape themselves. When I turned the lad over to you, I knew he'd find plenty of adventure, and perhaps some risk, but the last thing I ever dreamed of him finding was a bride--and such a bride--ha-ha! And the daughter of an old brother officer of mine, at that. Why, I had almost forgotten Brandon's very existence."

"Well, when I saw how things were tending, it gave me some anxious times, I allow," said Greenoak, "recognising that fathers are fathers, and naturally like to have a say in such matters. All the same, I tell you candidly, Sir Anson, that from the first I thought d.i.c.k would be extremely lucky if ever he managed to bring that off."

"And you thought right. Lucky dog indeed. Why, the girl is a treasure."

It was even as the old gentleman had said. He had held an Army commission in his younger days, and he and Hazel's father had been subalterns together. But the latter, tired of waiting for his step, had exchanged into a regiment ordered to the Cape on active service, and at the close of hostilities had sold out, married, and settled down as a colonist, and a very fairly successful one he became. All this had come out in the course of d.i.c.k's engagement, and Sir Anson, delighted at the prospect of once more foregathering with his former comrade-in-arms, had concluded to take a run out and look into matters himself. His welcome had been all that he could have desired, and Hazel won the old man's heart--even as she had won that of his son--on sight. Thus everything ran on oiled wheels, culminating in a big wedding at the nearest district town, at which nothing would satisfy d.i.c.k but that Harley Greenoak should officiate as his best man. And the latter, ruefully comic over the incongruity of the _role_ in his case, was obliged to comply.

"Hallo, dad!" now sang out d.i.c.k, as they all met at the rendezvous.

"Has Greenoak been 'wiping your eye,' or is it t'other way on?"

"No, certainly not the other way on, d.i.c.k," was the answer. "Greenoak's a record. But--hasn't Hazel come yet?"

"N-no. Wait though--oh--yes. There she is. I hear wheels."

A minute later and a neat dog-cart drove up, halting at a gate on the further side of the field. Hazel had alighted before d.i.c.k could get there, and as the pair returned together, laughing and talking, the two older men watched them, each with his own particular form of satisfaction at his heart.

"What a couple they make," said Greenoak, more to himself than to the other. But it was overheard and heartily seconded.

Hazel was looking lovely in her fresh, plain, summer costume, which set off her dark, piquante beauty to perfection.

"Good sport?" she cried merrily. "Ah, yes, rather," as her eyes fell upon the rows of "little brown birds" laid out upon the gra.s.s with a few hares and a rabbit or two. Then, still laughing and talking, she set to work, aided by d.i.c.k, to extract and lay out the contents of the hampers, and soon there was popping of champagne corks, and the gla.s.ses creamed with their fizzing contents, and all fell to with a good appet.i.te.

"There's something very restful about this English scenery," remarked Greenoak, gazing dreamily out over the rich meadowland and soft, towering foliage, to where, away in the distance, the gables and chimneys of the Hall were irregularly glimpsed.

"Yes, and to-day might almost be an African day," said d.i.c.k. "It's so still and lovely, and cloudless."

"Oh, talking of Africa," cried Hazel, "I've just got a lot of news--mail letters--came soon after you had started. d.i.c.k--Mr Greenoak--what do you think? Elsie is going to be married!"

"No!" shouted d.i.c.k; and he threw back his head and roared. "Oh, that's good. Who to?"

"I don't remember the man, but he was one of the party who came to our rescue that night. He's got a farm in the Chalumna district."

"He didn't see the play she made with that axe," laughed d.i.c.k. "That might have scared him off--eh?"

"Perhaps that const.i.tuted the attraction, d.i.c.k," said Sir Anson.

"Useful sort of wife to have, you know, in such a troublesome neighbourhood."

"She says that now her 'bairn' has left her--that's me," went on Hazel--"she might as well look out for herself. And so--she did."

"What a howling joke!" cried d.i.c.k. "Good old Elsie! We'll s.h.i.+p her out no end of a tea-service--and things--eh, dad? What other news, dear?"

"The Commandant has resigned."

"Pity, fine old boy the Commandant. Why did he chuck?"

"He couldn't pull with the present Government. They hampered him too much."

"Beastly shame! They don't know a good man when they've got him. Who succeeds him--Chambers?"

"No, they've put in another man. Mr Ladell has been promoted Inspector. Oh--and that man who helped you in that absurdly foolhardy adventure, d.i.c.k--Sketchley--has been made a sergeant. That's all the F.A.M. Police news."

"That part's good, anyway. What about the Commandant? Hasn't he got anything better?"