It seemed to Drew Lennox that he was staring helplessly at the dark
shadowy shape for quite a minute--but it was only a matter of a few
seconds--before, snatching his left hand from his companion's grasp, he
let his revolver drop to the full extent of its lanyard, and sprang
open-handed at the man.
The movement warned the latter of his danger, and turning sharply round
from where he was watching the direction taken by the detachment, he
made a desperate effort to catch the young officer by the throat.
But Lennox was springing at him, and the weight of his impact drove the
man back for a yard or two; but he recovered himself, got a grip, and
then a desperate struggle commenced at the edge of the rugged shelf of
rock just where the kopje went down for some fifty feet almost
perpendicularly, while a pile of heaped-up fragments which had lodged
after falling from above stood out ready to receive the unfortunate who
fell.
Neither spoke as they gripped, but stood panting heavily as if gathering
breath for the terrible struggle that threatened death to one if not
both combatants. They were not well matched. Lennox seemed to be
slightly the taller, but he was young, slight, and not fully knit; while
his adversary was broad-shouldered, and possessed limbs that were
heavily coated with hardened muscles, so that in spite of the weight
brought to bear in the young officer's sprint he recovered himself where
a weaker man must have been driven backward to the ground.
Dickenson sprang forward to his comrade's help, but stopped short as he
realised that in that narrow space there was only room for a struggle
between two, and by interfering he would be more likely to hinder his
friend than help. Hence it was that he stood waiting for his
opportunity, listening to the hoarse breathing of the wrestlers and
watching the faintly seen struggle--for capture on the one part, for
ridding himself of his adversary by pushing him off the shelf on the
other.
In a very few moments Lennox had recognised the fact that he was
overmatched; but this only roused the stubborn bull-dog nature of the
young Englishman, and setting his teeth hard, he brought to bear every
feint and manoeuvre he had learnt at his old Devon school, where
wrestling was popular, and in the struggles of the football field.
But all in vain: his adversary was far too heavy for him, and, to his
rage and discomfiture, in spite of all his efforts he found one great
arm tightening about his ribs with crushing pressure, while the man was
bending down to lift him from the shelf, evidently to hurl him off into
space.
The position was desperate, and in its brief moments Lennox did all that
was in his power, tightening his grasp in the desperate resolve that if
so savage a plan was carried out he would not go alone.
It might have been supposed that in his emergency-he would have called
to Dickenson for help, but the fact was that his adversary so filled his
thoughts that there was no room for his comrade's presence, and he
struggled on, straining every muscle and nerve.
But, to repeat the previous assertion, he was completely overmatched by
a desperate man; and, unless Dickenson could have interfered and saved
him, Lennox's fate was to be thrown from the rocky ledge out into the
black shadowy air, to fall heavily, crushed and broken, upon the stones
below.
But fate favoured him at the last pinch, for as his enemy by sheer
weight and pressure bore him back and then lifted him from the shelf
preparatory to hurling him outward, Lennox suddenly gave up resisting,
loosening his grasp so as to take fast hold round his enemy's neck, when
the sudden cessation of resistance had the effect of throwing the latter
off his balance just when he was very near the edge where he intended to
plant his foot down and check his farther progress. The result was that
he put his foot down a few inches too far, his heel pressing down upon
the rock where his toes should have been, and before he could recover
himself his foot was down over the side, while by a frantic wrench
Lennox flung himself sidewise inward.
They fell sidewise upon the shelf, Lennox uppermost, his enemy half over
the edge and gliding rapidly down, his weight drawing his adversary
after him slowly, inch by inch, for the hitter's position debarred his
making any successful effort to escape. For the enemy not only had him
tightly clasped, but, feeling his disadvantage, had wrenched his face
round so that he could savagely seize hold of the young officer's khaki
jacket with his teeth. And there he hung on, doubtless intending to
speak and declare that if he was to fall his enemy should share his
fate. But no coherent words were uttered; nothing was to be made out
but a savage growling as of some fierce wild beast.
The action took less time than the telling, and, fortunately for all,
now was Dickenson's opportunity.
The darkness had prevented his seeing the whole of the varying phases of
the struggle; but the latter part was plain enough, and fully grasping
the position and the emergency of the case, he sprang upon the
contending couple just at the right moment, adding his weight, which
from his position of vantage completely checked the gradual gliding
movement in which Lennox was being drawn onward to his death.
"Give up, you brute!" roared Dickenson now. "Surrender!"
For response the prostrate man, who was vainly striving to find foothold
below the edge of the shelf, let go with one hand and quick as thought
flung it over the speaker so that he got hold tightly by the tunic,
growling fiercely the while.
"Yah! That's flesh!" roared Dickenson, and in his rage and pain he
struck down heavily with his doubled fist. "You brute!" he cried.
"Give up, or I'll shove you down."
The prisoner gave up struggling for a moment or two, and seemed to be
trying to get a hold of some projecting stone.
"There," cried Dickenson, "let go. Give up; you're a prisoner. Leave
off struggling, and I'll haul you back on to the shelf. It's no good to
fight any more. That's right. You surrender, then? Mind, if you try
any of your confounded Boer treachery I'll send a bullet through your
skull."
_Crack_!
"Oh!"
The shot from a revolver, and a cry of pain from Dickenson, who at the
same moment realised the fact that the prisoner's last movements had
meant not giving up or getting a safer position on the ledge, but an
effort to get at his revolver and fire at so close quarters that the
condensed flame from the pistol's muzzle burned the young man's cheek,
the bullet barely touching the skin as it flew off into space.
"Beast!" cried Dickenson savagely, and he struck wildly at the revolver
as it was fired again, and fortunately diverted the clumsy attempt at an
aim, but at the expense of his knuckles, two of which were cut against
the chambers of the revolver.
As he uttered the word the young officer was recalling the fact that
this made two shots, and he felt that in all probability there were four
more to come. His hand was busy as well as his head, for he struck out
again and again in an effort to get hold of the pistol; but he could not
prevent the firing of another shot, which struck the rock beside him
with a loud pat.
"Ha!" cried Dickenson in a tone full of satisfaction; "got you!" For
his efforts in the darkness had been at last rewarded by his fingers
coming in contact with the barrel of the little weapon, which he clasped
tightly and held on to, in spite of jerk and snatch, feeling the barrel
heat as it was fired again, and again, and again, but with the muzzle
forced upward so that the bullets flew harmlessly away.
"That's better," growled Dickenson. "Now, you spiteful savage, will you
give up--will you surrender?"
A savage growling was the only answer.
"You brute!" muttered Dickenson. "'Pon my word, if it wasn't for poor
old Drew I believe I should let you go over, and see how you liked
that.--Here, Drew," he cried aloud, "how is it? What are you doing?"
"Holding his left hand down. He has got hold of my revolver."
"Bless him for a beauty! Can you stop him?"
"I don't know yet; I'm so awkwardly situated. Can you keep us from
going over?"
"Oh yes, I can do that. Here, I've got at my six-shooter now; hold
still, and I'll put something through his head."
"No, no; we must take him alive," cried Lennox.
"It's all very fine, but he's going to take us dead. Better let me
cripple him. Shall I light a match?"
"No, no. I've got tight hold of his wrist now, so that he can't use my
revolver. Ha! Look out!"
"I shall have to shoot him," cried Dickenson; for, foiled in his effort
to get hold of the fresh weapon, the man began to struggle again
fiercely, heaving himself up and wrenching himself to right and left in
a way that threatened to result in the whole party going over into the
black gulf below.
Lennox uttered another warning cry.
"Take care?" growled Dickenson. "Who's to take care in the dark? Here,
tell the brute in Dutch that if he doesn't give up I'll send a bullet
through his head. He doesn't seem to understand plain English."
"Yes, he does, for he spoke in English just now."
This was too true, for just then the prisoner suddenly yelled out,
"Dirck! Dirck! Help! The cursed rooineks have got me down."
"Oho! Then there are more than one of you, my beauty!" cried Dickenson.
"Now then, this is a gag; hold still or I'll pull the trigger."
There was a clinking sound caused by the rattling of the desperate
prisoner's teeth against the barrel of the pistol which Dickenson thrust
into his mouth just as he was about to speak. But he wrenched his head
round and began to struggle again so desperately that Lennox's temper
got the upper hand and he began to grow merciless to a degree that
tempted him to bid his comrade fire.
"Look here," roared Dickenson at the same moment, "I've had enough of
this, my fine fellow. Surrender, or I'll fire without mercy."
"Ha!" ejaculated Lennox in a sigh of relief, for those six shots had not
been fired in vain. The prisoner had unconsciously summoned assistance
to complete his capture, and Lennox's sigh had been produced by the
sight of a flash of light and the sound of hurrying feet, the two
sergeants with their lanterns reaching the spot first, closely followed
by the officers and men, who gazed down in wonder at the human knot
composed of the wondrously tied up three lying at the edge of the
precipice.
"Come on," shouted Dickenson. "We've caught the ghost. Don't let him
go."
"Here, hold these, some one," cried Sergeant James, and as soon as he
had got rid of his lantern he made fast, as a sailor would say, to the
prisoner and held on; while, to use his words, his mate pulled out the
prisoner's stings, for he had three--two revolvers (one of course
discharged) and a keen-bladed sheath-knife, something like an American
bowie.
Five minutes later the light of the held-up lanterns fell upon a
fierce-looking, much bruised and battered, black-bearded Boer, lying
upon the rocky shelf, tied hand and foot, his face so smeared and
disfigured by blood that it acted like a mask.
"Carry him down at once," said Captain Roby; "he is evidently badly
wounded."
"Not he," growled Dickenson savagely. "He hurt me more than I hurt him.
He used pistol; I only used fist and punched him in the nose."
Sergeant James smiled grimly, and drawing a roll of bandage from his
wallet, tore off a bit and wiped the blood from the prisoner's face.
"Hullo!" he cried.--"Hooray, Captain Roby, sir! This is our Boer friend
who tried to blow us up."
Lennox stopped forward eagerly, and signed for the lantern to be
lowered.
"Yes," he cried wonderingly; "that is the man."
"And no mistake," said Dickenson. "Come, I call this a good catch."
The other officers looked down at the dark eyes scowling up at them.
"Yes," he growled fiercely, "I am the man; and I'll do it yet."
"Perhaps your precious game may be stopped now, my good fellow," said
Captain Roby meaningly.
"Yes," said Captain Edwards sternly. "You were treated well and
generously the first time; this time you may find that the English
officers can be stern as well as generous to a beaten enemy.--Well,
Captain Roby," he continued, "there was no mistake, you see, about the
alarm."
"So I see," said the latter officer coldly.
"The thing is, what was he doing here?"
"Playing the spy, or hiding and waiting for a chance to get away, I
suppose."
"Well, you will take him down with you, and report to the colonel," said
Captain Edwards.
"Stop a bit," cried Dickenson. "You haven't got the other."
"What other?" cried the two captains in a breath.
"This fellow's comrade."
"Has he one?"
"You heard what the private said about seeing two," cried Dickenson.
"Oh, the words of a man in a scare go for nothing," said Captain Roby
contemptuously.
"Perhaps not; but this fellow was in no scare when he called for his
companion--Dirck, did he call him, Lennox?"
"Yes, Dirck; and he must be somewhere close at hand. Look, Bob."
He touched his comrade's arm to draw his attention to the sneering smile
on the prisoner's face.
"And where do you think his friend is?" said Captain Edwards.
"In the same place as this man came from. They have a hiding-place
somewhere close by."
"Yes," cried Dickenson; "one that enables them to play a regular
Jack-in-the-box trick."
"But how? Where?" said Captain Edwards.
"I don't know how, and I don't know where it is," replied Lennox; "but I
do know that they have a hiding-place somewhere here amongst the rocks.
This Boer was not here one minute; then we heard the creaking and
grinding of a stone door close at hand, and he was standing out against
the sky."
"Whereabouts?" said Captain Roby.
"About here," said Lennox, stepping to the rock close at hand.--"Bring
the lantern, quick."
Sergeant James stepped forward with his and held it up for his officer,
who began to examine the rock; but Dickenson paid no heed. He employed
himself in watching the prostrate Boer attentively, and noticed that his
eyes were being blinked violently, as if the man were in a great state
of excitement. But he seemed to calm down rapidly as the young
subaltern walked to and fro, holding the light up, then down, and always
coming back to the starting-place.
"Well, can't you find it?" said Captain Roby, with a sneer.
"No," replied Lennox frankly. "I can see no signs of it."
"And are not likely to," replied Captain Roby, with a grunt indicative
of the contempt he felt. "It's all absurd. What did you expect to
find? A hidden Aladdin's cave, with genii keeping the door?--Here,
Dickenson, you are a gentleman of fine imagination. Go and help him.
Expand your lungs, and cry _Open Sesame_!"
"Why don't you," said Dickenson, "as you know Persian, or whatever it
is, so well?"
Captain Roby was about to make an angry retort, but Captain Edwards now
interfered.
"I don't think there is any hiding-place along here," he said. "There
may be a rift or cave somewhere about the kopje, but certainly there
does not seem to be one in this part."
"I am not satisfied," said Lennox, who was busy still directing the
light in and out among the crevices of the rocks. "It hardly seems
possible, but the natural form of the granite is in blocks which look as
if they had been piled-up by the hand of man. Could any one of these be
a rough door?"
"No; absurd," said Captain Roby. "There, we have captured our prisoner;
let's get him down to the colonel."
"But what about his calling for Dirck to help him?" said Lennox eagerly.
"I did not hear him call for Dirck to help him," said Roby
contemptuously.
"No, but we did," cried Lennox, as he went on tapping the granite blocks
with the butt of his revolver, curiously watched the while by the
prisoner, who was in complete ignorance of the fact that Dickenson, who
stood half behind, was intently watching him in turn.
"Give it up, Lennox," said Captain Roby. "You are doing no good there."
"Burning!" cried Dickenson so suddenly that every one turned and stared.
"What is burning?" cried Captain Edwards.
"Drew Lennox is."
"Burning?"
"Hang it all, sir! have you forgotten all your childish games?" cried
Dickenson impatiently. "`Hot boiled beans,' you know. Lennox is
seeking, and he's burning."
"Am I?" cried Lennox excitedly, and the grim faces of the men thrown up
by the lanterns grew eager and excited too.
"To be sure you are," said Dickenson.
"How do you know?"
"By my lord the prisoner's phiz here. He gave quite a twitch when you
tapped that last rock but one."
"Ha!" cried Lennox; "then there is a way in here. I thought it sounded
hollow."
He stepped back and began to tap the rough stone again to prove his
words, every one now noticing that the rock gave out a dull, hollow
tone; while, unable to contain himself, the prisoner, as he lay tightly
bound upon his back, uttered a low, hissing sound as he drew in a deep
breath.
"Here we are," cried Lennox, more excited than ever. "Sergeant, give
some one else that lantern; take a man with you up there by the gun, and
bring back a crowbar or two, and one of the engineers' picks."
The men went off at once, and while the party awaited their return
Lennox went on examining the rough block of granite by which he stood,
but looked in vain for any sign of hinge or fastening.
"I hope you are right, Lennox," said Captain Edwards, who had stepped to
his side; and he spoke in a low voice.
"So do I," was the reply; "but I feel sure that there is, for there must
be a hiding-place somewhere. Wait a bit, and we shall capture the
prisoner's mate."
Lennox involuntarily glanced down at where the carefully bound Boer lay
with the light shining full upon his eyes, and he could not repress a
start as he saw the malignant flash that seemed to dart from them into
his own. It affected him so that he ceased his examination for the
moment, waiting impatiently till the distant sound of steps announced
the return of the sergeant and the man bearing the implements he had
sought.
"Got the crowbar?" cried Lennox eagerly.
"Yes, sir."
"Then bring it here. Thrust it in under the stone at this natural
crevice."
"Why?" said Captain Roby sharply.--"Here, sergeant, try higher up."
But before the words were fully uttered the sergeant had driven the
chisel-edge of the iron bar into the horizontal crevice about on a level
with his knees, with the result that the men cheered so loudly that they
drowned the angry curse which escaped the Boer's lips. For, to the
surprise of all, no sooner had the sergeant pressed down the wedged-in
bar than it acted as a lever would, lifting one corner of the stone so
that it slipped away, the great block turning easily upon a central
pivot, and leaving an opening some four feet high and just wide enough
for a man to pass through.
"The light, sergeant.--Bayonets, my lads!" shouted Lennox, springing
forward; but his cry was mingled with one from the prisoner, who yelled
out:
"Fire, Dirck; fire! Never mind yourself; blow them all into the air."
It was an order which was full of suggestion, coming as it did so soon
after the cowardly attempt to kill the colonel and his chief officers;
but not a man shrank from the task before him, nor hesitated to take the
risk, whatever it might be. Lennox was in first, closely followed by
the sergeant, lantern in his left hand, iron bar in his right, ready to
strike down the first man who resisted, while the light was directed
here and there in eager search for bag or barrel that might contain the
elements of destruction.
The lantern lit up one of the typical caverns of the country, so many of
which have been utilised for strongholds by the Matabele, Mashona, and
other chiefs, and Lennox found himself in a rift of the stone which ran
right up overhead, a vast crack which the light of the lantern was too
feeble to pierce, while away to the right ran a low-roofed passage,
striking off almost at right angles, but only to _zigzag_ farther on and
die away in the darkness.
"Bayonets, lads!" cried Lennox again; "the other man must be down here."
"Look out!" cried Captain Roby, who was close behind. "Mind that open
lantern there. Hi, sergeant! is there any sign of powder or dynamite?"
"No, sir," cried the non-com sharply, as he held the lantern as high as
he could and made its light play in every direction. "All a bam to
scare us, sir. No, no!" he yelled. "Keep back, every one. Up here,
sir, in this hole. There's a bag that looks like those we found. Take
the lantern, Mr Lennox, sir."
"No," cried the young officer; "keep it, and light me. The other fellow
can't get away; we'll have him afterwards. Here we are," he continued,
reaching up to a niche and drawing out a powder-bag. "Will you have it
passed out, Mr Roby?"
"Yes: take hold, one of you.--Captain Edwards."
"Here you are."
"See that the powder-bag is put well out of the prisoner's reach. He is
fast bound, but he might try to play us some trick."
"Yes, all right," said the captain; and then to the two men left on
guard by the prisoner, "Keep a sharp eye on this man; don't let him
stir."
"No, sir," was the reply; and then the order was given for the powder to
be guarded.
As the captain returned it was to meet a man bearing out another bag,
and he entered the cavern in time to see Lennox draw out another, and
again another, till eight had been dragged out of the place into which
they had been packed and carried out into the open air.
"Why, Lennox, man," he said laughingly, "you handle those bags as if
they were tea. Aren't you afraid that some of them will explode?"
"Not he," said Dickenson, who was looking on and holding up the second
lantern. "No danger. I'm here. I've been watching so that he
shouldn't light a cigarette."
There was a titter from the men near, and Captain Roby cried
impatiently, "Why, there's enough to have blown the top off the kopje
and destroyed the big gun."
"Thoroughly, I should say, wedged-in there as it was," said Dickenson.
"How much more is there, Lennox?"
"That's all," was the reply. "No, no. There's a great rift here to the
right, full too."
"Hand it out, then, quickly," said Captain Roby. "Be careful there with
your rifles; if a man lets his off by accident we shall all be blown to
atoms."
"They'll take care," said Captain Edwards; "eh, my lads?"
"Rather, sir!" said the sergeant grimly; and all worked hard and
carefully avoided the lanterns, till Lennox announced that the second
rift had given out its last bag.
"Yes, that's all," he said; "but I want to know how they got it up
here."
"They managed to get it up in the dark," said Captain Roby. "There, you
may open a lantern now. Is there any sign of a train, Lennox?"
"Not the ghost of one. But I expect our friend meant to blow up the gun
and do as much damage as he could besides. We were none too soon. Now
what about the other? he must be in here somewhere. Shall I lead on,
sir?"
"Yes," said Captain Roby sharply. "Take the sergeant with one lantern
and ten men. I'll follow with the other lantern and ten more. You,
Captain Edwards, keep a guard over the powder and the prisoner. Of
course your men will be ready to receive any one trying to escape after
avoiding our search."
"Right," was the answer; and sword in one hand, revolver in the other,
Lennox and Dickenson began their advance into the maze-like cavern,
closely followed by the sergeant holding the lantern well on high so
that its rays kept on flashing from the men's bayonets.
"Keep your eyes well skinned, Drew, old chap," whispered Dickenson, "and
never mind your revolver. You're sure to miss in a place like this.--
You behind, lads. The bayonet, mind, whenever our friend here makes a
rush; he must be stopped."
There was a low murmur of assent from the men, and then, with eyes and
bayonets gleaming strangely in the dancing light, the party moved
steadily on into the weird darkness of the cave.