"Oh Sergeant!" I said, with a feeling of relief. "But what about
Joeboy? I did wonder once why he had not been to see me."
"I didn't look after him, sir," said the Sergeant. "He's a sort of
free-lancer, and not under orders."
"But when did you see him last?" I asked.
"Well, I'm a bit puzzled about that. I say, hear that?"
"Hear them? Yes, of course," said Denham angrily. "The brutes! The
cowards! Oh, if I were only well!"
"Oh, let 'em alone, sir," said the Sergeant coolly as, beginning with a
few scattered shots, the firing outside had rapidly increased. "They're
doing no harm. Do you know what it is?"
"Our poor fellows exposing themselves thoughtlessly, I suppose," said
Denham bitterly.
"Only their hats, sir. It's about the only pleasure the poor lads have.
It's a game they have for pennies. Some one invented it yesterday.
Six of 'em play, and put on a penny each. Each game lasts five minutes,
and the players put their hats upon the top of a stone. Then the man
who has most bullets through his hat takes the pool."
"What folly!" said Denham fretfully.
"Well, as I told them, sir, it isn't good for their hats; but, as they
said, it wastes the Doppies' cartridges, and pleases the lads to make
fools of 'em. You can hear them cheer sometimes when a hat is suddenly
pulled down. They think they've killed a man--bless 'em! They're very
nice people."
"But, Sergeant, you were telling me about Joeboy," I said. "Can't you
think when you saw him last?"
"Not exactly. I've been trying to think it out, because I expected
you'd be asking about him. It strikes me that the last I saw of him was
the night I was going the rounds after the search for that Irish
prisoner. Perhaps he's tired of being shut up?"
"No," I said emphatically.
"Those blacks are men who are very fond of running wild."
"Joeboy wouldn't forsake me, Sergeant," I said impressively.
"Perhaps you're right. He always did seem very fond of you--never happy
unless he was at your heels; but he hasn't been hanging about the
hospital, you see. It looks like as if that Irishman had given him a
crack on the head too, and pitched him down one of the mine-holes."
"Oh no; horrible!" I said.
"Glad you take it that way," said Briggs grimly, "because it would be
bad for the water. Well, there's only two other things I can think of
just now. One's that he might have been shot by the enemy when driving
in the cattle."
"Is it possible?" I said, in alarm.
"Well, yes, it's possible," said the Sergeant; "but I didn't hear any
one hint at such a thing happening."
"Oh, surely the poor fellow hasn't come to his end like that! Here,
what was your other idea?"
"I thought that, being a keen, watchful sort of fellow, perhaps he might
have caught sight of our prisoner escaping."
"Ah!" I ejaculated.
"Yes; and knowing what I do of my gentleman, it seemed likely that he
might have followed him just to see that he didn't get into more
mischief, particularly if he saw him upset you two."
"No, no; he couldn't. We saw no sign of him," I said excitedly.--"Did
you, Denham?"
"Who could see a fellow like that in the dark?" cried Denham peevishly.
"It is possible that, knowing what he did of Moriarty's treatment of me,
he may have felt that he had a kind of feud with him, and watched him."
"For a chance to say something to him with one of those spears he
carried," said Denham, suddenly growing interested in our remarks.
"Oh no. I don't think he would use his assagai except in an emergency."
"That would be an emergency," said the Sergeant. "I've thought it out
over my pipe, and this is what I make of it: he has followed Master
Moriarty, and I expect that we shall never hear of him again."
"What! Joeboy?" I cried.
"No; Master Moriarty."
"But that would be murder--assassination," I cried.
"You can use what fine words you like over it," said the Sergeant
gruffly; "but I call it, at a time like this, war; and when Mr Joe
Black comes back--as I expect he will, soon--and you ask him, he'll say
he was only fighting for his master; and that's you."
I was silenced for the moment, though my ideas were quite opposed to the
Sergeant's theory.
But Denham spoke out at once.
"That's all very well, Sergeant," he said, "but Mr Moray's black boy is
about as savage over his ideas of justice as he is over his ideas of
decency in dress. He looks upon this man as an enemy, and his master's
enemy; and if he overtakes Moriarty he won't have a bit of scruple about
sticking his spear through him."
"And serve him jolly well right, sir."
"No, no; that won't do," said Denham.
"Not at all," I cried, recovering my balance a little.
"But isn't he a renegade, sir?" said the Sergeant.
"We call him so," replied Denham.
"And didn't he attack you two and try to murder you, sir, just as he did
poor Sam Wren?"
"Yes, I grant all that, Sergeant; but we're not savages. Now, suppose
you had gone in chase of this man, and say you had caught him. Would
you have put your revolver to his head and blown out his brains?"
"That ain't a fair question, sir," said the Sergeant gruffly; "and all
I've got to say is, that I'm very glad, knowing what I do, that I wasn't
in pursuit of him, sword in hand."
"You mean to say that you would have cut him down?" I cried.
"I don't mean to say anything at all, Mr Private Moray, only that I've
got my feelings as a soldier towards cowards. There, I won't say
another word."
"Then I'll speak for you," said Denham. "You wouldn't have cut the
scoundrel down, nor shot him, but you'd have done your duty as trained
soldiers do. You'd have taken him prisoner, and brought him in to the
Colonel."
"And he'd have had him put up against the nearest wall before a dozen
rifles and shot for a murderous traitor, sir."
"But not without a court-martial first, Briggs," said Denham sternly.
"I suppose you're right, sir; but I don't see what comfort a trial by
court-martial can be to a man who knows that he's sure to be found
guilty and shot."
"But not till he has been justly condemned," I put in.
"Like to know any more about what's going on round about the fort, sir?"
said the Sergeant, after giving me a queer look.
"Yes, of course," cried Denham.
"Well, not much, sir. Colonel's always going round about to see that
the men don't expose themselves, and I expect that at any time there'll
be orders given that neither the horses nor the bullocks are to be
driven out to graze."
"Then they are all driven out?" I said.
"Of course, sir. We couldn't keep the bullocks alive without."
"I wonder the Boers don't shoot them," I said.
"Don't like shooting their own property," said the Sergeant, with a
grin. "They're always hoping they'll get 'em back; but they'll have to
look sharp if they do, for if they're much longer we shall have eaten
the lot."
"Take some time to do that, Sergeant," said Denham, laughing.
"Not such a very long time, sir. You see, the men have nothing but
water to drink; tobacco's getting scarce; there's no bread, no coffee,
no vegetables; and the men have very little to do but rub down their
horses to keep 'em clear of ticks: the consequence is that they try to
make up for it all by keeping on eating beef, and then sleeping as hard
as ever they can."
"I don't know what we can do unless we cut our way through the enemy,"
said Denham sadly. "I go on thinking the matter over and over, and
always come back to the same idea."
"No wonder," said the Sergeant. "That is the only way; so the sooner
you two get fit to mount the better, for I don't see that anything can
be done till then."
"Are there any more--cripples?" said Denham bitterly.
"Oh, there's a few who'd be off duty if things were right," said the
Sergeant cheerfully; "but they make shift. The Colonel limps a bit, and
uses his sword like a walking-stick; six have got arms in slings, and
four or five bullet-scratches and doctor's patches about 'em; but there
isn't a man who doesn't show on parade and isn't ready to ride in a
charge."
"But riding," I said, with the eagerness of one who is helpless--"what
about the horses?"
"All in fine condition, gentlemen," said the Sergeant emphatically, "but
a bit too fine, and they look thin. The Colonel's having 'em kept down
so that they shan't get too larky from having no work to do."
"But they're not sent out to graze now?" I said.
"Oh yes, regularly."
"Then why don't the Boers shoot them, so as to make them helpless?"
The Sergeant chuckled.
"Colonel's too smart for them," he said. "The bullocks are sent out in
the day with a strong guard on foot to keep behind the oxen, but the
horses go out as soon as it's dark, every one with his man to lead him,
and all ready for an attack. Ah! but it's miserable work, and I shall
be very glad when you two gentlemen are ready to mount again, so that we
can go."
"You'll have to go without us, Briggs," said Denham sadly. "I don't
suppose the Boers will shoot us if we're taken prisoners."
"That's just what the Colonel's likely to do, sir. It's his regular way
with his men. I must be off now, though. Time's up. You'll like to
see this, though, Mr Denham?"
The Sergeant began to fumble in his pouch, bringing out several
cartridges before he found what he wanted--a dirty-looking piece of
milky quartz.
"What have you got there?" we asked in a breath.
"Stuff the men are finding in a hole at the back of the cook's
fireplace."
"Why, it's gold ore," I said eagerly.
"Nonsense! What do you know about it?" said Denham, turning the lump
over in his hand.
"I know because pieces like that are in the kopje near my home. Joeboy
could find plenty like that. He took some to my father once, and father
said it was gold."
"Then you've got a mine on your farm?"
"I suppose so; but father said we'd better get rich by increasing the
flocks and herds. Look there," I said; "all those are veins of gold,
and those others are crystals and scales."
"There, catch, Sergeant," said Denham bitterly. "We don't want gold; we
want health, and a way out of this prison."
"That's right, sir; and if you like I'll try and come and tell you how
things are going to-night."
"Yes, do," cried Denham. Then the Sergeant thrust his piece of gold ore
and quartz back into his pouch, and marched away.
"Val, old chap," said Denham as soon as we were alone, "that fellow
seemed to cheer me up a bit while he was here."
"Yes," I said; "he roused me up too."
"But now he's gone I'm down again lower and lower than ever I was
before. I begin to wish I were dead. Oh dear! who'd be a wounded man
who feels as helpless as a child?"