With Rifle and Bayonet Part 12

"The president desires to know who you are, and for whom you were acting as spy two nights ago," he said courteously. "Who employed you? Was it the British Government?"

"No one employed me," answered Jack, looking Joubert straight in the face. "It was purely by accident that I discovered the magazine down by Volksrust, and since the men there were positive that I was a spy and talked of shooting me, I was forced to escape for my life. That is all I know about the matter; and now I will ask you by what right I am removed in this manner from Johannesburg and brought here as a prisoner.

I am a British subject, come here for my health, and if I have done anything wrong I am willing to stand my trial in the courts."

"Tush, boy!" Joubert replied harshly. "What do we care about subjects of England here? You have acted as a spy, and that is why you are a prisoner."

"Ask him on his honour whether he was a spy and whether he is telling the truth," President Kruger broke in at this moment, using the English tongue in his eagerness to put the question. "Ask him on his honour,"

he repeated. "All of his country pride themselves on that, and when they are put upon it they will tell the truth."

"I am no spy," Jack said calmly. "I have told you the truth, and will swear to it on my honour."

"Will you make use of the secret you have obtained, if I let you go and send you outside the Transvaal?" asked the president, now fully awake, leaning forward and favouring Jack with a piercing gaze.

"I cannot promise not to," replied Jack, after a moment's pause. "If that magazine is a menace to England, as seems most probable, it will be my duty to inform the Governor of Cape Colony of it, and I shall do so."

"Ah, you will!" growled Oom Paul angrily. Then he turned to General Joubert, and the two conversed volubly for a few minutes, the president hammering on the table with his hand in the most emphatic manner, and evidently laying down the law.

"Bah!" he exclaimed at last. "What does it matter? It would do more harm to us to injure this lad than for our secret to be known. The British are already aware that we are purchasing arms. Let them know it all. It will not harm us; though to act so as to cause the prisoner's friends to make active enquiries for him might precipitate matters. Let him go! Release him! He is a brave lad, which is unusual amongst these hated Rooineks, and he deserves to go free as a reward for his boldness.

See to it, Joubert!"

Jack was overjoyed, for he had quite expected that the rash avowal of his intention to divulge his secret would make matters even more unpleasant. And now he was free. He was on the point of thanking the president and of retiring when his eyes lit upon Piet Maarten's angry scowling face, and he at once remembered the young Boer's threat that he and Hans Schloss together would have to be reckoned with.

"Your honour," he said, facing Oom Paul again, "I have a request to make. You have commanded that I shall have my liberty. I ask for protection. That man there, together with a German whom I had the misfortune to wound when escaping from the magazine, have threatened to deal with me should I receive my freedom at your hands. I ask you now to grant me some kind of an escort to the frontier."

"Have I not ordered that you shall have your freedom?" answered Paul Kruger brusquely. "That is enough. Should anyone attempt to molest you he shall account for it."

Satisfied with his answer, Jack murmured his thanks and retired. He was at once placed in charge of two Boers whom he had never seen before, and was driven off into the veldt again. About an hour later an engine and a single carriage steamed up and he was told to get in. Then they were whirled away to Johannesburg just in time to catch a train starting on the long run to Port Elizabeth.

One of the guards remained behind, but the other stayed on with Jack, making himself most pleasant, and chatting with him constantly.

Many hours later he shook hands with him, and wished him good-bye.

"Don't come back to us," he said shortly, as the train ran into Norval's Pont, the southern border of the Orange Free State. "You have escaped with your life, but you would not do so a second time. Here is money which the president told me to hand to you. It is just sufficient to pay for your journey and comfort to Port Elizabeth, and here also is your ticket."

Jack thanked him, pressed his hand, and then watched him depart. A few moments later the train was in motion again. At Naauwpoort, the next stopping point, there is a junction, with a connecting line running westward to De Aar to join the Cape Town line to Kimberley and Mafeking, and here Jack left the carriage and boarded another train. Late the next evening he had reached the diamond city, and had called on Tom Salter, an old friend of Mr Hunter's.

"Hallo, Jack!" exclaimed the latter, who had met him before. "What brings you here? Your place should be alongside of the Hunters, for they are likely to want every man they can lay hands on soon."

"Yes, I've heard that," Jack answered, "but unfortunately I have got into hot water in Johnny's Burg, and have consequently come here for the good of my health."

"Ha, ha! That's queer, my lad," laughed Tom Salter, a typical, red-faced, and robust-looking colonist. "You've been punching that fellow's head again, I suppose? What's his name? Piet Maartens, or something of that sort, isn't it? Ah, it's you quiet, harmless-looking lads who are always getting into a warm corner!"

"Well, no, it's not quite that," Jack replied, with a smile. "Piet Maartens, though, had a hand in it all the same. I'll tell you all about it if you like. Mr Hunter told me to come here, and said you would be able to give me something to do."

"Of course I will, Jack," said Tom Salter heartily. "And you will take up your quarters with me. There's plenty of room in the house, and the wife will be glad to see you. Now tell me the yarn."

"That was a close shave, old boy," he said, when he had heard Jack's adventures. "Phew! You were within an ace of being shot by those fellows in the magazine. Ah, they are rough customers, and we're going to have an ugly trouble with them! That's why we here and our boys up at Mafeking are getting ready. Special-service officers have come to us from England, and though you'd scarcely think it, ammunition and stores are quietly pouring in. Ah! we've one of them here as slim as old Oom Paul himself, and another lad up at Mafeking, by name Baden-Powell, who would even give that old crafty schemer a start, and lick him easily.

Well, we shall see, but if there is to be a row I'm going to be in it."

"Everything seems to point to war; at least so I have gathered from Mr Hunter," remarked Jack, "and I, too, mean to take a share in it."

"Well done! You're the right sort of lad!" exclaimed Tom Salter, slapping him on the back. "And mind you, if you want to be in the thick of it, you must stay over here. Kimberley and Mafeking will be besieged, and there will be stirring times. There will be work, too, for everyone. Every lad here will give a hand; all the civilians will join in with our soldiers, and will show our friends the Boers that we mean business."

"If there is trouble, and the Uitlanders have to leave the Transvaal, I shall return to Johnny's Burg, Tom. I arranged it all with Wilfred before I left; in fact, weeks ago. You see, Mr Hunter means to stay on and look after his property, so someone will be wanted to take Mrs Hunter down to the frontier, for, by all accounts, once the Boers are let loose there are likely to be unpleasant times for the refugees.

After that I shall come over here and lend a hand if I can, though I don't know about staying for good. There will be little fun if the siege lasts for months, as seems likely by the amount of stores which you say are coming in."

"Ah, I never thought of that, Jack! My property and money are here, and naturally I shall stick by it and defend it as long as I can; but for you it is a different matter. But there will be lots of despatches to be carried south, for our telegraph wires and communications are certain to be cut. You could volunteer after a little while as a messenger. It would be rough and dangerous work, but I dare say all the more to your taste, and after the few weeks you will work here with me you will have the advantage of knowing the country. You have arrived just in time to join me in a prospecting tour. Mr Hunter and I, with two others, have been in partners.h.i.+p for many years, and just now we have agents travelling from place to place searching for possible gold reefs. They report their finds to me, and I ride or drive over and inspect. Then, if it is likely to prove of any value, we buy the property and secure the mining rights.

"I intend starting north to-morrow, and expect to be away for a month.

You may come if you care, and I need not say I shall be glad to have you."

Jack gladly jumped at the offer, and next morning, after a visit to a local store, where he purchased some clothing, he set out with Tom Salter, looking every inch a young colonist, dressed in riding-breeches and gaiters and a dark-blue s.h.i.+rt. On his head he wore a slouch hat, and over his shoulder was a bandolier filled with cartridges which fitted the Lee-Metford rifle which Tom had lent him. At his hip he carried his Mauser pistol, now no longer concealed, and thus equipped he and Tom rode out, and turning north-west, made for a country which was noted for its wildness.

More than six weeks pa.s.sed, and during that time he and Tom Salter made many expeditions, sometimes to the west into an almost unknown country, and at other times into the Orange Free State or the Transvaal. After each one they would return to Kimberley, and Tom would write reports on the properties he approved of, and leave Mr Hunter and the other partners to purchase them and secure the rights. In this way Jack quickly became hardened to the saddle, acclimatised and weather-beaten, and moreover was a rider who by constant practice could have held his own now in an American ranche out west by the Rockies. He was, as even Piet Maartens would have been compelled to admit, a strapping, well-set-up young fellow, whose laughing lips and open face almost belied the bull-dog squareness of his chin, and the daring, unflinching look in his eyes. The sun had tanned his cheeks and arms, and as he sat his native pony, his left hand well down, while his right grasped his rifle and leant the b.u.t.t against his thigh, the natural, upright pose of his body and set of his head, together with a certain jauntiness, don't-care-who-comes-along sort of style, imparted by an artful bend in the brim of his hat, made Jack Somerton look just what he really was, a plucky young Englishman, who had come out to rough it in this far-away country, and had done exactly what he had intended.

But Jack was not only a fine-looking young fellow. His rough life and his contact with the Boer had made him quick and slim. He looked even-tempered and easy-going, and appeared to take little heed of what he heard or saw; but he was wide-awake, very wide-awake. He missed nothing, and he put all he saw away to be remembered. Thus his various rides had not only made him acquainted with many people, but by now he knew the surrounding country, and could have found his way over it in the darkest of nights.

In addition, he had had many opportunities of practising with his weapon.

"You've got a gun there, Jack, my lad," Tom Salter had said when they first started out prospecting, "and it's not for appearances only. You want to learn to use it. I never miss a chance even now, and I'm a pretty good shot, I can tell you, without the slightest wish to boast.

Still, I am always practising, because I know there is nothing one gets out of so easily. You must be at it constantly to be a good shot. If you've got good eyes, and can spare the time to shoot, you're bound to turn out a marksman. Look at the Boers! Every one of them living outside the towns is a crack shot, simply because he starts when he's young and sticks to it. Now what you want to do is to take a pot shot at any likely object we come across out in some of these deserted places. The trunk of a tree, a white stone on the side of a distant kopje, or even a vulture, of which there are numbers hereabouts. They are brutes, and the more you hit the better. You've got a Mauser pistol too, and had better make use of it. If this war comes, you'll find your time has not been wasted."

Jack followed this advice. During their long, and generally lonely, rides, he would often fire as many as twenty cartridges in an afternoon, galloping up to the object afterwards to see what success he had had.

As a rule, he fired from the saddle, but sometimes he would jump to the ground and aim whilst standing; at other times, at Tom's suggestion, he would slip from his saddle, scuttle hurriedly across a piece of open ground, taking advantage of every boulder or ant-hill, and firing at an imaginary enemy from behind each one. Then, when he had reached a ridge, or a piece of better cover, a glance from his trained eye would pick out the best spot to fire from, and he would lie p.r.o.ne on the ground, without so much as the brim of his hat showing, while the muzzle of his rifle projected between two boulders and hurled forth a stream of bullets as he used the magazine.

"That's it, my lad," Tom would say encouragingly. "That's just how our Boer friends fight, and it's the only method nowadays, when bullets carry so far, and everyone is armed with a modern weapon of precision.

It'll be ticklish work, I can tell you, if our fellows have to attack from the open, and that's what it will have to come to, for you won't find these Dutchmen exposing themselves if they can help it. They'll sit tight behind their boulders, and we shall have to turn them out at the point of the bayonet. Yes, it will be ticklish work, and will require real grit, but I'll bet anything our boys will tackle it.

There's another thing too. Every youngster armed with one of these magazine rifles is inclined to blaze off all his ammunition at the first alarm. It's wasting cartridges, which cannot always be spared; and what is more, it is apt to demoralise the others. That's what you must guard against. Never use the magazine unless there are lots of beggars coming pell-mell at you. If there's a rush, then is the time to pump in the lead as fast as you possibly can.

"Then, too, you must learn to train your pony, and whilst I'm teaching you to use your rifle, I may as well instruct you in the other matter also."

Jack was naturally only too willing to learn. Riding all day long across the open veldt was somewhat monotonous at times, and his rifle practice and other manoeuvres helped to make the journeys pa.s.s more pleasantly.

Thanks to the allowance which his father had left him, and which was regularly transmitted from England, he was always supplied with an ample sum, and this, when supplemented with the wages paid him at Johannesburg, had given him sufficient for all his wants. Something to ride was one of the most pressing of them, and with Tom's help he had, soon after his arrival at Kimberley, become possessed of two Basuto ponies, noted for their hardiness and agility. They were about the size of an English cob, mouse-coloured, and somewhat scraggy looking. But for all that they were wiry little animals, with plenty of spirit, but not vicious. Jack named one Victoria and the other Prince, and had no need to complain of his purchases. They turned out to be fast and st.u.r.dy little animals, who could easily thrive on the veldt when stable-fed horses would have starved. In addition, they were absolutely sure-footed, so that one could trust them to gallop down the side of a rough kopje, with the reins on their neck, without fear of an accident, for they were used to the work, and could be left to themselves to leap the boulders which came in their path, and steer clear of the ant-bear holes and nullahs which cut up the ground in every direction.

A few weeks' training was sufficient, and before the prospecting tour came to an end they would stand stock-still while Jack fired above their heads, or at a touch from his heel would canter on, and turn swiftly with the merest pressure of a knee. A jerk of the reins across their necks, and down they would drop on the ground, the rider standing in his stirrups and easily freeing himself, and there they would lie while Jack fired his rifle over them. Sometimes, too, he would knee-halter them and leave them to graze unattended. This knee-haltering was rapidly effected. A long thong of untanned hide was pa.s.sed over the neck, close up to the head, and one end put through a slit in the other. The free end was then taken round the leg just above the knee and secured with a clove hitch. The animal could then hobble about over a limited area in search of gra.s.s, but could not get far, and the halter could be thrown off at a moment's notice.

But by this time other and more important matters began to engage his attention. There was an ominous cloud of unrest hovering over South Africa. It affected all, and filled them with anxious thoughts, for none knew when it would burst and let loose the thunder and lightning of a terrible war.

Already negotiations between the Boers and the British Government were at a deadlock. Both sides were arming, the former with the absolute certainty and wish for war, and the latter slowly and with evident sorrow. Suspicion was in the air, and hatred between the two races unconcealed. A conference at Bloemfontein had been held between Sir Alfred Milner, the Governor of Cape Colony, and President Kruger, but had led to no result, save a further deadlock. Kruger would make no satisfactory proposals. He was firmly determined that the Transvaal should be for Boers alone, and that no Englishman should have a voice in the country. England asked for equal rights, and was laughed at-- defied. Yes, this small state, with a history which could only record some two hundred years of peasant existence, and a total population less than that of one of our big northern towns, had as good as cast down the glove at the British Lion's feet. And the Lion still sat half-crouched, silently waiting, and hoping that matters might be arranged for peace.

Opposed to England's forces was a minor state, which was snapping its fingers at her and practically daring her to retaliate. Once before the Transvaal had acted in a similar manner, and then, because there was some doubt as to the justice of our cause, and because we have ever been magnanimous, we made peace with her.

But, like a little dog, the South African Republic had continued yapping at us, distracting our attention while she grew and thrived, and armed herself to the teeth. And now that she had attained to full proportions, the conceit of youth and the impetuous desire to play with her new guns had led her to seek a quarrel, the result of which she hoped would for ever free her from the hated British suzerainty, and give her that independence for which she longed.

And on every side the world looked on and laughed in its sleeve at our difficulties, while it openly upbraided us for having ulterior designs on so small a state.

Matters could not remain as they were. Business was at a standstill, and crowds of refugees were fleeing from the Transvaal. Then the Orange Free State intimated that in the event of hostilities it would cast in its lot with the Transvaal, while there was open disloyalty amongst a portion of the Dutch Cape Colonists, which proved the existence of a wide-spread conspiracy.