Matters looked anything but hopeful at Groenfontein, though the men were
full of spirits and eager to respond to any of the attacks made by the
Boers, who, with three commandos, thoroughly shut them in, joining hands
and completely cutting off all communication.
Time was gliding on without any sign of help from outside, and the
beleaguered party would have concluded that they were quite forgotten by
their friends if they had not felt certain that the different generals
were fully engaged elsewhere.
"Let's see," said Lennox one evening; "we've been attacked every day
since our fishing-trip."
"That's right; and the Boers have been beaten every day for a week."
"And yet they are as impudent as over. They think that we shall
surrender as soon as we grow a little more hungry."
"Then they'll be sold," said Dickenson, "for the hungrier I grow the
more savage and full of fight I get. You know about the old saying of
some fellow, that when he had had a good dinner a child might play with
him?"
"Oh yes, I know," said Lennox. "Well, these children of the desert had
better not try to play with me."
"Ought to have a notice on you, `Take care; he bites'--eh?" said Lennox
merrily.
"'M, yes; something of the kind. I say, I wish, though, I could sleep
without dreaming."
"Can't you?"
"No; it's horrible. I go to sleep directly I lie down, and then the
game begins. I'm at Christmas dinners or banquets or parties, and the
tables are covered with good things. Then either they've got no taste
in them, or else as soon as I try to cut a slice or take up a mouthful
in a spoon it's either snatched or dragged away."
"Oh, don't talk about food," said Lennox impatiently; "it makes me feel
sick. There's one comfort, though."
"Is there?" cried Dickenson excitedly. "Where? Give us a bit."
"Nonsense! I mean we have plenty of that beautiful spring water."
"Ugh!" cried Dickenson, with a shudder. "Cold and clear, unsustaining.
I saw some water once through a microscope, and it was full of live
things twizzling about in all directions. That's the sort of water we
want now--something to eat in it as well as drink."
Lennox made an irritable gesture.
"Talk about something else, man," he cried. "You think of nothing but
eating and drinking."
"That's true, old man. Well, I'll say no more about drinking; but I
wonder how cold roast prisoner would taste?"
"Bob!" shouted Lennox.
"Well, what shall I talk about?"
"Look about you. See how beautiful the kopjes and mountains look in the
distance this evening; they seem to glow with orange and rose and gold."
"There you go again! You're always praising up this horrid place."
"Well, isn't it beautiful? See how clear the air is."
"I dare say. But I don't want clear air; I'd rather it was thick as
soup if it tasted like it."
"Soup! There you go again. Think of how lovely it is down by the
river."
"With the Boers popping at you? I say, this ear of mine doesn't heal
up."
"You don't mind the doctor's orders."
"So much fighting to do; haven't time."
"But you grant it is beautiful down by the river?"
"Yes, where only man is vile--very vile indeed; does nothing all day but
try to commit murder. But there, it's of no use for you to argue; I
think South Africa is horrible. Look at the miles of wretched dusty
desert and stony waste. I don't know what we English want with it."
"Room for our colonists, and to develop the mines. Look at the
diamonds."
"Look at our sparkling sea at home."
"Look at the gold."
"I like looking at a good golden furzy common in Surrey. It's of no
use, Drew, my lad; it's a dismal, burning, freezing place."
"Why don't you throw it up and go home, then?"
"What! before we've beaten the Boers into a state of decency? No!"
Bob Dickenson's "No!" was emphatic enough for anything, and brought the
conversation between the two young men to an end; for it was close upon
the time for the mess dinner, which, whatever its shortcomings, as Bob
Dickenson said, was jolly punctual, even if there was no tablecloth.
So they descended from where they had perched themselves close up to the
big gun, where their commanding position gave them the opportunity for
making a wide sweep round over the karoo, taking in, too, the wooded
course of the river and the open country beyond in the possession of the
Boers.
But they had seen no sign of an enemy or grazing horse; though they well
knew that if a company of their men set off in any direction, before
they had gone a quarter of a mile they would be pelted with bullets by
an unseen foe.
They had seen the walls and rifle-pits which guarded the great gun so
often that they hardly took their attention. All the same, though,
soldier-like, Drew Lennox could not help thinking how naturally strong
the kopje was, how easy it would be for two or three companies of
infantry to hold it against a force of ten times their number, and what
tremendous advantages the Boers had possessed in the nature of their
country. For they had only had to sit down behind the natural
fortifications and set an enemy at defiance.
"It's our turn now," Lennox said to himself, "and we could laugh at them
for months if only we had a supply of food."
"Let's try this way," said Dickenson, bearing off to his left.
"What for? It's five times as hard as the regular track, and
precipitous."
"Not so bad but what we can do it. We can let one another down if we
come to one of the wall-like bits too big to jump."
"But it's labour for nothing. Only make you more hungry," added Lennox,
with a laugh.
"Never mind; I want to make sure that an enemy could not steal up in the
dark and surprise the men in charge of the gun. I'm always thinking
that the Boers will steal a march on us and take it some day."
"You might save yourself the trouble as far as the climbing up is
concerned. This is the worst bit; but they could do it, I feel sure, if
our sentries were lax. I don't think they'd get by them, though."
"Well, let's have a good look what it is like, now all the crags are lit
up."
They were lit up in a most wonderful way by the sun, which was just
about to dip below the horizon, and turned every lightning-shivered mass
of tumbled-together rock into a glowing state, making it look as if it
was red-hot, while the rifts and cracks which had been formed here and
there were lit up so that their generally dark depths could be searched
by the eye.
"Do you know what this place looks like?" said Dickenson.
"The roughest spot in the world," replied Drew as he lowered himself
down a perpendicular, precipitous bit which necessitated his hanging by
his hands, and then dropping four or five feet.
"No! It's just as if the giants of old had made a furnace at the top of
the kopje, and had been pouring the red-hot clinkers down the side."
"Or as if it was the slope of a volcano, and those were the masses of
pumice which had fallen and rolled down."
"So that we look like a couple of flies walking amongst lumps of sugar.
Well, yours is a good simile, but not so romantic as mine. That's a
deep crack, Drew, old chap. Like to see how far in it goes?"
"No, thanks. I want my dinner," said Lennox.
"Dinner! Mealie cake and tough stewed horse."
"Wrong," said Lennox; "it's beef to-night, for I asked."
"Beef! Don't insult the muscle-giving food of a Briton by calling tough
old draught-ox beef. I don't know but what I would rather have a bit of
_cheval_--_chevril_, or whatever they call it--if it wasn't for that
oily fat. But we might as well peep in that crack. Perhaps there's a
cavern."
"Not to-day, Bob. It's close upon mess-time."
"Hark at him! Prefers food for the body to food for the mind. Very
well. Go on; I'm at your heels."
They descended to the more level part of the granite-strewn eminence,
acknowledged the salutes of the sentries they passed, and soon after
reached the mean-looking collection of tin houses that formed the
village--though there was very little tin visible, the only portion
being a barricade or two formed of biscuit-tins, which had been made
bullet-proof in building up a wall by filling them with earth or sand.
The _tin_ houses, according to the popular term, were really the common
grey corrugated iron so easily riveted or screwed together into a hut,
and forming outer and partition walls, and fairly rain-proof roofing,
but as ugly in appearance as hot beneath the torrid sun.
Groenfontein consisted of a group of this class of house ranged about a
wide market-square, while here and there outside were warehouses and
sheds and a few farms.
Bob Dickenson said it was the ugliest and dirtiest place that ever
called itself a town; and he was fairly right about the former. As to
the latter, it might have been worse. Its greatest defect was the
litter of old meat and other tins, while there were broken bottles
enough to act as a defence when attacked by strangers.
The Boer inhabitants had for the most part fled; those who were left
lived under the protection of the British force, which they preferred to
being out on commando, using rifle, and risking their lives.
The empty houses left by the former inhabitants had at once been taken
possession of for officers' and soldiers' quarters; the long warehouses
and barns for stabling; and a big wool warehouse, happily containing
many bales of wool, had been turned into mess and club room, the great
bales making excellent couches, and others forming breastworks inside
the windows and the big double doors.
Here the officers off duty lounged and rested, and here upon this
particular night they were gathered round the social board to dine, each
officer with his own servant; and it is worthy of remark that with
officer and man, rifle, revolver, and sword were racked close at hand.
"Round the social board" is a most appropriate term, though not quite
correct; for, while social in the highest degree, quite a brotherly
spirit influencing the officers present, the board was really two, held
together by a couple of cross-pieces and laid upon barrels, while the
seats were of all kinds, from cartridge-boxes to up-ended flour-barrels,
branded _Na_. and _Pa_. and _Va_., and various other contractions of
long-sounding United States names, which indicated where the fine white
flour they once contained had been grown and ground.
The mess cook had done the best he could, and provided some excellent
bread, but it was rather short in quantity. As to the meat, it was hot;
but there were no dish-covers, which Bob Dickenson said did not matter
in the least, for during the past few weeks they had been careful to
draw a veil over the food.
But of water, such as needed no filtering, there was ample, ready for
quaffing out of tin mug, silver flask, cup, or horn.
"And the beauty of our tipple now is," said Bob, "that it never does a
fellow the least harm."
It was a favourite remark of his, "an impromptu" that had been much
admired. He made the remark again on this particular evening, but his
tones sounded dismal.
"It's a great blessing, though," he added; "we might have none. Yes,
capital water," he continued, draining his cup and setting it down with
a rap on his part of the board. "Just think, Drew, old man, we might be
forced to sit here drinking bad champagne."
"I don't want to drink bad or good champagne, old fellow," said Lennox;
"but I do wish we had a barrel of good, honest, home-brewed British ale,
with--"
"A brace of well-roasted pheasants between us two--eh?"
"No; I was going to say, a good crusty loaf and a cut off a fine old
Stilton cheese."
"J-Ja!" sighed the next man.
"Never mind, gentlemen," said the colonel; "what we have will do to work
upon. When we've done our work, and get back home, I'll be bound to say
that John Bull will ask us to dinner oftener than will do us good. What
do you say, doctor?"
"What do I say, Colonel Lindley?" cried the doctor, putting down his
flask-cup. "I say this Spartan fare agrees with us all admirably. Look
round the table, and see what splendid condition we are all in. A bit
spare, but brown, wiry, and active as men can be. Never mind the food.
You are all living a real life on the finest air I ever breathed. We
are all pictures of health now; and where I have a wound to deal with it
heals fast--a sure sign that the patient's flesh is in a perfect state."
"It's all very fine," said Bob Dickenson in a low voice to those about
him. "Old Bolus keeps himself up to the mark by taking nips; that's why
he's so well and strong."
"Nonsense!" said Lennox sharply. "I don't believe he ever touches
spirits except as a medicine."
"Who said he did?" growled Dickenson.
"You, Bob; we all heard you," chorused several near.
"Take my oath I never mentioned spirits. I said _nips_."
"Well, you meant them," said Lennox.
"I didn't. Don't you jump at conclusions, Drew, old man. I meant nips
of tonics. Old M.D. has got a lot of curious chemicals in that
medicine-chest of his, and when he's a bit down he takes nips of them."
"I don't believe it," said a brother officer, laughing. "Old Emden,
M.D., take his own physic? Too clever for that!"
The darkness had closed in soon after the officers had taken their
seats--early, after tropic fashion--and one of the messmen had lit four
common-looking paraffin-lamps, which swung from the rafters, smelt
vilely of bad spirit, and smoked and cast down a dismal light; but the
men were in high spirits, chatting away, and the meal being ended, many
of them had started pipes or rolled up cigarettes, when an orderly was
seen to enter by the door nearest the colonel's seat and make quickly
for his place.
There was a cessation of the conversation on the instant, and one motion
made by every officer present--he glanced at the spot where his sword
and revolver hung, while their servants turned their eyes to the
rifle-stands and bandoliers, listening intently for the colonel's next
order: for the coming of the orderly could only mean one thing under
their circumstances--an advance of the Boers.
They were right. But the increased action of their pulses began to calm
down again; for instead of standing up according to his wont and giving
a few short, sharp orders, the colonel, after turning towards the
orderly and hearing him out, merely raised his eyes and smiled.
"Wonders will never cease, gentlemen," he said, and he sent a soft, grey
cloud of cigarette smoke upward towards the roof of the barn. "You all
remember our prisoners, brought in after Lennox and Dickenson's fishing
expedition?"
There was an eager chorus of "Yes" from all present save the two young
officers mentioned, and they were too eager in listening to speak.
"Well, gentlemen, I told those men that the wisest thing they could do
was to go back to their farms, give up fighting, and collect and bring
into camp here a good supply of corn and beef."
"Yes, sir, I heard you," said Captain Roby, for the colonel paused to
take two or three whiffs from his cigarette.
"Well, gentlemen, you will hardly credit the news I have received when
you recall what took place, and be ready to place some faith in a Boer's
sound common-sense."
"Why doesn't he speak out at once?" said Dickenson in a whisper. "Who
wants all this rigmarole of a preface?"
"What is it, colonel?" said the major.
"That Boer, the leader of the little party of prisoners, evidently took
my advice," continued the colonel; "and instead of rejoining his
fighting friends, he has gone back to the ways of peace and trade, and
they have just arrived at the outposts with a couple of wagon-loads of
grain, a score of sheep, and ten oxen."
The news was received with a shout, and as soon as silence was obtained
the colonel continued: "It seems incredible; but, after all, it is only
the beginning of what must come to pass. For, once the Boer is
convinced that it is of no use to fight, he will try his best to make
all he can out of his enemies."
"Well, it's splendid news," said the major; "but what about its being
some cunning trap?"
"That is what I am disposed to suspect," said the colonel; "so, quietly
and without stir, double the outposts, send word to the men on the kopje
to be on the alert, and let everything, without any display of force, be
ready for what may come. You, Captain Roby, take half a company to meet
our visitors, and bring the welcome provender into the market-place
here."
"Bob," whispered Lennox, "if we could only go with Roby! There'll be a
couple of score of the enemy hiding amongst those sacks."
"Get out!" responded Dickenson. "I never did see such an old
cock-and-bull inventor as you are. It's stale, too. You're thinking of
the old story of the fellows who took the castle by riding in a wagon
loaded with grass and them underneath. Then it was driven in under the
portcullis, which was dropped at the first alarm, and came down chop on
the wagon and would go no farther, while the fellows hopped out through
the grass and took the castle. Pooh! What's the good of being so
suspicious? These Boers are tired of fighting, and they've taken the
old man's advice about trade."
"I don't believe it," said Lennox firmly. "I wouldn't trust the Boers a
bit."
"Well, don't believe it, then; but let's go and see what they've
brought, all the same."
"Yes, certainly; but let's put the colonel on his guard."
"What! Go and tell him what you think?"
"Certainly."
"Thanks, no, dear boy. I have only one nose, and I want it."
"What do you mean?" said Lennox sharply.
"Don't want it snapped off, as they say. The idea of the cheek--going
and teaching our military grandmother--father, I mean, how to suck
eggs!"
"You never will believe till the thing's rammed down your throat," said
Lennox angrily. "Well, come along as we have no orders."
And without further discussion the two young men buckled on their belts
and followed Captain Roby, who, while the colonel's other instructions
were being carried out, marched his men down to where some of the Boer
party, well-guarded by the outposts, could be dimly seen squatted about
or seated on the fronts of two well-loaded wagons, whose teams were
tying down contentedly chewing the cud. Four more Boers kept the sheep
and oxen in the rear of the wagons from straying away in search of a
place to graze, for there was a tempting odour of fresh green herbage
saluting their nostrils, along with the pleasant moisture rising from
the trickling water hurrying away towards the gully where it found its
way into the river.
"What do you say to telling Roby to set a man to probe the sacks with a
fixed bayonet?"
"It would be wise," whispered back Lennox.
"Tchah!" sneered Dickenson. "How could a fellow exist under one of
those sacks of corn? Why, they must weigh on to a couple of
hundredweight."
"I don't care; there's some dodge, Bob, I'm sure."
"Artful dodge, of course. Here, let's see if we know the fellows
again."
"Very well; but be on your guard."
"Bother! Roby and his men will mind we are not hurt."
As he spoke Dickenson led the way close up to the roughly-clad Boers
about the wagons, where, in spite of the darkness, the face of their
leader was easy to make out as he sat pulling away at a big German pipe
well-filled with a most atrociously bad tobacco, evidently of home
growth and make.
"Hullo, old chap!" said Dickenson heartily; "so you've thought better of
it?"
The Boer looked at him sharply, and, recognising the speaker, favoured
him with a nod.
"Brought us some provender?" continued Dickenson; and he received
another nod.
"What have you got?"
The Boer wagged his head sidewise towards the wagons and herds, and went
on smoking.
"Well done; that's better than trying to pot us. But, I say, what about
your commando fellows? What will they say when you go back?"
The Boer took his pipe out of his mouth and stuffed a finger into the
bowl to thrust down the loose tobacco.
"Nothing," he said shortly. "Not going back."
"What!" cried Lennox, joining in after pretty well satisfying himself
that there could be no danger in the unarmed Boers and their wagons.
"What's what?" said the Boer sourly.
"You're not going back?" cried Dickenson, staring.
"Well, we can't go back, of course. If we tried they'd shoot us,
wouldn't they?"
The reply seemed to be unanswerable, and Dickenson merely uttered a
grunt, just as Captain Roby and his men marched up to form an escort for
the little convoy.
"Well, commandant?" he said.