There were the hard stones for our couches, and the air up in the pass
was sharp and cold; but we were all pretty close together, and in five
minutes it did not seem as if any one was awake, though doubtless the
few poor fellows who had been wounded--I may say wonderfully few
considering what we had gone through--did not get much sleep. I was one
of those who did lie awake for a time, gazing up at the clear, bright
stars which began to peer down through the clearing-off smoke, but only
for a few minutes; then a calm, restful feeling began to steal over me,
and I was sleeping as sound as if on one of the feather-beds at the
farm, where in course of years they had grown plentiful and big.
We were not, however, to pass the night in peace; for directly after, as
it seemed to me, I started up in the darkness, roused by firing. Then
the trumpet-call rang out, and we were all up ready for the rush that
was in progress; while I was startled and confused, and unable to
understand why the now mounted Boers should be guilty of such an insane
action as to attack us there, nestling among the stones. We were all
ready, but no orders came to fire, and all crouched or stood with finger
on trigger, gradually grasping what it all meant, and listening to the
trampling of hoofs going steadily on, till at last the Colonel's
familiar voice was heard from close to where I stood.
"Hold your fire, my lads. We should be doing no good by bringing a few
down. Let them join their friends. They've come to the conclusion that
this is too hard a nut to crack."
This is what happened: the enemy's lower party had waited till nearly
daylight, and then approached quietly till their coming had been noticed
by our outpost sentries, who fired to give the alarm, when they made a
sudden dash to get up the pass to join the detachment of Boers above.
This they were allowed to do unmolested, the Colonel saying that nothing
was to be gained by stopping them, and that an advance up the pass was
work for infantry, not for a mounted force.
Daylight came soon afterwards, I suppose; but I did not watch for the
dawn, for, as soon as the last of the horsemen had passed and the word
was given, I sank down again and slept as a tired lad can sleep. Again,
as it seemed, only a few minutes expired before the trumpet once more
rang out, and I had to shake myself together, when the first face that
looked into mine was that of Joeboy, who was standing close by me with a
heap of haversacks at his feet, and grinning at me with a good-humoured
smile. I didn't smile, for I felt stiff and full of aches and pains;
but before long fires were burning and water getting hot. I had a good
shower-bath, too, in a gurgling spring of water which came down a rift
by the gap in the pass. Then sweet hot coffee and slices of bread and
cold ham out of one of the haversacks Joeboy had foraged for seemed to
quite alter the face of nature. Perhaps it was that the sun came out
warm and bright, and that the blue sky was beautiful; but I gave the
bread, ham, and coffee the credit of it all. Ah! what a breakfast that
was! It seemed to me the most delicious I had ever eaten; but before it
was begun I had been to see Denham, who was sitting up with his chest
tightly bandaged. He was ready to hold out a hand as soon as he saw me.
"Hullo, Moray!" he cried, "how are you this morning?"
"It's how are you?" I replied.
"Oh, I'm all right. A bit stiff, and I've got a bruise in the back, the
doctor says, like; the top of a silk hat."
"You haven't seen it?" I said.
"Have I got a neck like an ostrich or a giraffe? No, of course I
haven't."
"But is anything broken?" I asked anxiously.
"No, not even cracked. The pot's quite sound, so the doctor hasn't put
in a single rivet."
"I am glad," I said heartily.
"That's right--thank you," said the poor fellow, smiling pleasantly, and
he kept his eyes fixed upon me for some moments. Then in a light
bantering way he went on, "Doctor said the well-worn old thing."
"What was that?" I asked.
"Oh, that if it hadn't been for that bullet and brass cartridge-case,
backed up by the thick leather belt, that Boer's bullet would have
bored--now, now, you were going to laugh," he cried.
"That I wasn't," I said wonderingly. "What is there to laugh at?"
"Oh, you thought I was making a pun: bored a hole right through me."
"Rubbish!" I said. "Just as if I should have thought so lightly about
so terribly dangerous an injury."
"Good boy!" he cried merrily. "I like that. I see you've been very
nicely brought up. That must be due to your aunt--aunt--aunt--What's
her name?"
"Never mind," I said shortly; "but if you can laugh and joke like that
there's no need for me to feel anxious about your hurt."
"Not a bit, Solomon," he cried merrily. "There you go again, trying to
make puns--solemn un--eh? I say, though, you do look solemn this
morning, Val. I know: want your breakfast--eh!"
"Had it," I said, smiling now.
"I do, my young recruit. I'm longing for a cup of hot coffee or tea.
But I say, Val, my lad," he continued, seriously now, "I haven't felt in
a very laughing humour while I lay awake part of the night."
"I suppose not," I said earnestly. "It must have been very terrible to
lie here listening to the fighting--wounded, too--and not able to join
in."
"Well, yes, that was pretty bail; but I didn't worry about that. I knew
the Colonel would manage all right. I was worried."
"What worried you?" I said--"the pain?"
"Oh no; I grinned and bore that. Here, come closer; I don't want that
chap to hear."
"What is it?" I said, closing up.
"It was that business yesterday, when I was hit."
"Oh, I wouldn't think about it," I said.
"Can't help it. I did try precious hard to carry it off before I quite
broke down."
"You bore it all like a hero," I said.
"No, I didn't, lad. I bore it like a big boarding-school girl. Oh! it
was pitiful. Fainted dead away."
"No wonder," I replied, smiling. "You're not made of cast-iron."
"Here, I say, you fellow," he cried; "just you keep your position. None
of your insolence, please. Recollect that you're only a raw recruit,
and I'm your officer."
"Certainly," I said, smiling. "I thought we were both volunteers."
"So we are, old fellow, off duty; but it must be officer and private on
duty. I say, tell me, though, about the boys and the Sergeant. Did
they sneer?"
"Sneer?" I cried indignantly. "You're insulting the brave fellows.
They carried you down splendidly, and I believe there wasn't a man here
who wouldn't have died for you."
"But--but," he said huskily, "they must have thought me very weak and
girlish."
"I must have thought so too--eh?"
"Of course," he said, in a peculiar way.
"Then, of course, I didn't," I cried warmly; "I thought you the bravest,
pluckiest fellow I had ever seen."
"Lay it on thick, old fellow," he said huskily; "butter away. Can't you
think of something a little stronger than plucky and brave--and--don't
take any notice of me, Val, old lad. I'm a bit weak this morning."
"Of course you are," I said sharply, and dashed off at once into a fresh
subject. "I say, I must go and hunt out the Sergeant. That was a nasty
wound he got after you were hit."
My words had the right effect.
"The Sergeant?" he cried. "Oh, poor old chap! we can't spare him. Was
he hurt badly?"
"Oh no, he laughed it off, just as you did your injury; but I am afraid
he has lost one finger."
"Ah, my young hero!" cried a cheery voice, and I started round and
saluted, for it was the Colonel. "How's the wound--eh?"
"Oh, it isn't a wound, sir," said Denham rather impatiently. "Only a
bad bruise."
"Very nearly something worse.--Morning, my lad:" this to me, and I felt
the colour flush up into my cheeks. "You behaved uncommonly well last
night, and we're all very much indebted to you. Pretty good, this, for
a recruit. I heartily wish you had been with us two or three months,
and you should certainly have had your first stripes."