Denham's words sounded so loud that, as I dropped on one knee to hold
the knot of the rope round the stone to prevent it from slipping, I felt
sure that the sentries to right and left must have heard him speak. But
it was only due to my excited way of looking at things. For the next
minute, after a preliminary rustling, I felt a peculiar thrill run along
the hide rope. This went on while I wondered if my companion had made
the joining of the two ropes secure, my imagination working so rapidly
that I seemed to see the knot stretching and yielding till one of the
ends slipped through the loop of the knot, and--
The thrilling sensation had ceased; and the rope, which felt in my hands
like some living, vibrating thing, hung loose. The next moment a kink
ran up it and dissolved in my hands. It was Denham's way of saying "All
right," and I knew my turn had come.
The starting was the difficulty--that creeping over the breastwork, just
at a time when my strength was far from at its best; but I tackled the
business at once, stepped up on to a stone, seated myself on the top of
the breastwork, took tight hold of the rope, raised my legs so that I
could lie down, turned upon my face, and then softly swung my legs round
so that I could twist my feet about the rope and reduce the weight on my
arms. The next minute I was hanging at full length, holding the rope
with one hand, the edge of the breastwork with the other, and afraid to
move; for, to my horror, _tramp, tramp_ came the sound of the
approaching sentry to my loft. The perspiration began to ooze out on my
face and temples now, and I prepared for a rapid descent, fully
expecting the man would see the rope, stop, and, under the impression
that I was one of the Boers trying to get into the fort by escalade,
would strike me from my hold with the butt of his rifle.
I might have spared myself the horror of those few moments of anxiety;
for even when he came nearer I could not see him, and with my head
beneath the level of the rough parapet he could not see me, but passed
on. I counted the steps, and at the sixth began to let the hide rope
glide slowly through my moist hands.
Soon I felt the knot over my boots stop my progress, and had to slacken
the rope off my feet, gliding down till my hands touched the knot. This
was, I thought, so very loose that I had either to tighten it or slide
quickly down. I chose the latter, and went on so swiftly that my hands
were hot with the friction when my feet touched Denham's hands, as he
held the rope, and then the ground. I dropped to my knees at once, then
lay, panting as if I had run a mile.
Denham placed his lips close to my ear and whispered, "I was afraid the
sentry would see you. Here, give me your knife."
I answered by taking it out and placing it in his hands, listening, and
wondering then what he was about to do, for he rose to his feet, and I
heard a peculiar sound as of cutting something and Denham breathing
hard.
He was down by me when the noise ceased, and once more his lips were at
my ear.
"Get up and join hands," he whispered. "There's a light straight ahead,
and another about a quarter of a mile to the right. We'll make for this
last one. Mind, not a sound."
The order was not needed. We rose silently. There, as he had stated,
right in front and away to the right, were two of the tiniest sparks of
light; they were almost invisible, the nearest being fully a thousand
yards off.
Then, hand in hand and step by step, we went on through the pitchy
darkness straight for the light on our right. We moved very cautiously,
for our first fear was that we might be heard from the walls; and,
setting aside the extreme doubtfulness of receiving a bullet in the back
from a friend, there was the danger of one shot bringing many, as the
sentries carried on the alarm, with the result that every Boer in front
would be on the _qui vive_ and our venture rendered impossible. But all
was perfectly still, while the darkness overhead seemed to press down
upon us.