"A COWARD!--A CUR!"
It was about an hour later, when the wounded had been seen to by the
surgeon--who reported very favourably on the men, whose injuries were
for the most part the result of blows from rifle-butts received in the
struggle on the kopje--that two of the scouts who had been left to watch
the Boers came in with a sufferer dangerously injured by a rifle-bullet.
Dickenson's heart gave a throb as he saw the men, and being off duty, he
hurried to meet them, in the hope and belief that they had found Lennox.
But it was one of their companions.
The men's report was that the Boers had come steadily on as the British
force retreated, and had then been busily engaged collecting their dead
and wounded, paying no heed to the little outpost watching them till
their task was done, when, as the last of their wagons moved off, they
began firing again, till one of the outposts fell, and the others
remained too well covered, staying till the firing had ceased, and then
hurrying back.
"Poor old Lennox!" said Dickenson to himself. Then, seeing that
Sergeant James was watching him, he shook his head.
"I was hoping that they were bringing in Mr Lennox, sir," said the
sergeant gloomily. "Of course, seeing the temper the enemy is in after
their defeat, it would be like getting some of our fellows murdered if
the colonel gave me leave to go out with a white flag."
"I'm afraid so too," said Dickenson.
"But what about as soon as it's dark, sir? Think the colonel would let
us go to make a better search? He must be near the Boers' laager where
we missed him."
"I was thinking something of the sort," said Dickenson. "Will you go
with me, James?"
"Will I go with you, sir?" cried the sergeant. "Wouldn't I go through
anything to try and get him back? You'll ask the colonel to name me,
sir?"
"If he gives consent," said Dickenson warmly. "He'll tell me to take
two or three men, and of course I shall pick you for one."
"Thankye, sir; and don't you be down-hearted. You're fagged now, sir,
with all we've done since we started, and that explosion gave you a
horrid shaking up. You go to your quarters, sir, as soon as the colonel
has given leave, and lie down--flat on your back, sir--and sleep till
it's time for starting. I'll have the others ready, and I'll rouse you
up, sir."
"Very well, sergeant," said the young officer. "I must own to being a
bit down."
As soon as the sergeant had left him, the young officer went to the
colonel's quarters and asked to see him.
"Come in, Dickenson," said the chief, and he held out his hand. "Thank
you, my lad," he said. "I've heard all about what you've done. Very
good indeed. I sha'n't forget it in my despatch, but when it will get
to headquarters is more than I can tell. I'm glad you have come. What
can I do for you?"
Dickenson stated his wishes, and the colonel looked grave.
"I don't know what to say, Dickenson," he replied. "It would be a very
risky task. I have scouts out, but I doubt whether they'll be able to
tell whether the enemy is still holding the kopje. If he is, you will
run a terrible risk. I've just lost one of my most promising young
officers; I can't spare another."
"I was afraid you would say so, sir. But Drew Lennox and I have always
been regular chums together, and it seems horrible to settle down
quietly here in safety and do nothing to try and find him."
"It does, my dear sir; but we soldiers have to make sacrifices in the
cause of duty."
"Yes, sir; but we've had a splendid bit of luck since last night. Can't
you strain a point?"
The colonel smiled.
"Well, it's hardly fair to call it luck, Dickenson," he said. "I think
some of it's due to good management. Eh?"
"Yes, sir; you are quite right."
"Well there, then, if you'll promise me to run no risks with the lads,
and return if you find the enemy still at the kopje, I'll give you leave
to take a sergeant and a couple of men and go."
Dickenson looked pleased and yet disappointed.
"We might find him somewhere near, sir, even if the Boers are there," he
said.
"In the darkness of a moonless night, with men on the _qui vive_ ready
to fire at the slightest sound?"
"We got well into the laager last night, sir, with a hundred and fifty
men," said Dickenson in tones of protest.
"But you wouldn't get in to-night with one, and such an enterprise
against either of the other laagers would now be impossible. There, I
can make no further concessions, for all your sakes, so be content."
"You are right, sir, and I am wrong," replied Dickenson quietly.
"You will retire, then, directly you find the place occupied?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go, then, as soon as it is dark. You can pick two men who can ride,
take three of the captured Bechuana ponies, and one can hold them while
the others search."
"Thank you, sir."
"But I have no hope of your finding him, Dickenson. This is solely from
a desire that we may feel we have done all we can do in such a case.
Now I am busy. You have been up all night, and nearly been killed. Go
and lie down for a few hours' sleep."
The young officer left the colonel's presence, and had no trouble in
finding the sergeant, for he was watching for his return, and heard with
eagerness the result.
"Ride? Capital, sir; make us fresher for our work. We shall find him.
I don't believe he's dead. Now you'll take a rest, sir. I'll have the
ponies ready, and the men."
Dickenson gave him the names of the two men he would like to take, but
had to give up one.
"Can't sit a horse, sir; hangs on its back like a stuffed image. Now
Jeffson, sir, was a gentleman's groom. Ride anything. I wonder he
isn't in the cavalry."
"Very well, then; warn Jeffson. There, I am done up, sergeant. I trust
you to rouse me as soon as it's dark."
"Right, sir. But one word, sir."
"What is it?"
"Captain Roby, sir. Keeps off his head, sir. Going on awfully. Doctor
Emden says it's due to the bullet striking his skull."
"Dangerous?" said Dickenson anxiously.
"Oh no, sir; but he keeps on saying things that it's bad for the men to
hear; and that Corporal May, he's nearly as bad. He thinks he's worse.
He's within hearing, and every time the captain says anything, Master
Corporal May begins wagging his head and crying, and tells the chaps
about him that it's all right."
"Poor fellow! There, I'll go and see them before I lie down."
"No, sir; please, don't," said the sergeant earnestly. "You've done
quite enough for one day."
"Confound it, man! don't dictate to me," cried Dickenson testily.
"Certainly not, sir. Beg your pardon, sir; but we've got a heavy job on
to-night, and it's my duty to warn you as an old soldier."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, sir, that I've had twenty years' experience, and you've had
two, sir. A man can only do so much; when he has done that and tries to
do more, he shuts up all at once. I don't want you to shut up, sir,
to-night. I want you to lead us to where we can find Mr Lennox."
"Of course, sergeant. I know you always mean well. Don't take any
notice of my snappish way."
"Not a bit, sir," said the man, smiling. "It's only a sign that, though
you don't know it, you're just ready to shut up."
"But, hang it all, man!" said the young officer, with a return of his
irritable manner, "I only want to just see my brother officer for a few
minutes."
"Yes, sir, I know," said the sergeant stubbornly; "but you're better
away. He's right off his head, and abusing everybody. If you go he'll
say things to you that will upset you more than three hours' sleep will
wipe out."
"Oh, I know what you mean now--what he said before--about my being a
coward and leaving him in the lurch."
"Something of that sort, sir," replied the sergeant.
"Poor fellow! Well, perhaps it would be as well, for very little seems
to put me out. It was the shock of the explosion, I expect. There,
sergeant, I'll go and lie down."
"I'll bring you a bit of something to eat, sir, when I come. There's
plenty now."
"Ah, to be sure; do," said the young man. "But I could touch nothing
yet. Remember: as soon as it is quite dark."
"Yes, sir; as soon as it is quite dark."
Dickenson strode away, and the sergeant uttered a grunt of satisfaction.
"Poor fellow!" he muttered. "It would have made him turn upon the
captain. Nobody likes to be called a coward even by a crank. It would
have regularly upset him for the work. Now then, I'll just give those
two fellows the word, and then pick out the ponies. Next I'll lie down
till the roast's ready. We'll all three have a good square meal, and
sleep again till it's time to call Mr Dickenson and give him his corn.
After that, good-luck to us! We must bring that poor young fellow in,
alive or dead, and I'm afraid it's that last."
Meanwhile Dickenson had sought his quarters, slipped off his
accoutrements and blackened tunic, and thrown himself upon his rough
bed. It was early in the afternoon, with the sun pouring down its
burning rays on the iron roofing of his hut, and the flies swarming
about the place.
As a matter of course over-tired, his nerves overwrought with the
excitement of what he had gone through, and his head throbbing
painfully, he could not go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes his
ears began to sing after the same fashion as they did directly following
the explosion, and after tossing wearily from side to side for quite an
hour, he sat up, feeling feverish and miserable.
"I'm making myself worse," he thought. "I know: I'll go down to the
side of the stream, bathe my burning head and face, and try and find a
shady place amongst the rocks."
He proceeded to put his plan into execution, resuming his blackened
khaki jacket and belts, and started off, to find a pleasant breeze
blowing, and, in spite of the afternoon sunshine, the heat much more
bearable than inside his hut. His way led him in the direction of the
rough hospital, and as he drew near, to his surprise he heard Captain
Roby's voice speaking angrily, and Dickenson checked himself and bore
off to his right so as to go close by the open door.
"Poor fellow!" he said. "I must see how he is."
He went into the large open hut in which the captain had been placed by
the doctor's orders, because it was one in which the sides had been
taken off so as to ensure a good current of air. As the young officer
entered he caught sight of two others of the injured lying at one end,
and noted that the wounded corporal was one.
Both men were lying on their backs, perfectly calm and quiet; but Roby
was tossing his hands about impatiently and turning his head from side
to side, his eyes wide open, and he fixed them fiercely upon his brother
officer as he entered.
"How does he seem, my lad?" said Dickenson to the attendant, who was
moistening the captain's bandages from time to time.
"Badly, sir. Quite off his head."
"Ah! Cur!--coward!" cried Roby, glaring at him. "Coward, I say! To
leave me like that and run."
"Nonsense, old fellow!" said Dickenson, affected just as the sergeant
had said he would be; and his voice sounded irritable in the extreme as
he continued, "Drop that. You said so before."
"Who's that?" cried Roby, with his eyes becoming fixed.
"Me, old fellow--Dickenson. Not a coward, though."
"Who said you were?"
"Why, you did, over and over again."
"A lie! No. I said Lennox. Ah! To run for his miserable life--a
coward--a cur!"
"What!" cried Dickenson angrily; but Roby lay silent as if exhausted,
and, to the young officer's horror and disgust, a womanly sob came from
the corporal's rough pallet at the end of the hut, and in a whining
voice he moaned:
"Yes, sir; he don't mean you, but Mr Lennox, sir. I saw him run, and
it's all true."