Lord Kitchener, one night in early February, was sitting on the apex
of a vast triangle in the northern end of the Orange River Colony.
Two sides of the triangle were made up of long lines of blockhouses,
strung on a chain of barbed-wire fencing. The blockhouses were of
loop-holed stone or iron with iron roofs, and they were separated
from each other by only a few hundred yards. The barbed-wire chain
which strung together these zigzag lines was five strands wide, and
it was edged with a five-foot trench and now and then with an
additional length of stone wall. Beyond the fences were the railroad
lines, and up and down over the tracks armored trains carrying
search-lights were running to and fro, to shed all possible light
upon the fences and upon the enclosure beyond. The third side of the
triangle consisted of an infinite number of men in khaki, and its
density varied entirely according to its position. At first, it
opened out to a thin line of troopers scattered over the arc of an
immense circle; then it drew in until an army stood in fighting
array straight across the veldt from Heilbron to Kroonstad. And
Wolvehoek was the apex of the triangle.
Experience had taught the master brain of the British army that it
was useless longer to chase De Wet up and down over the face of the
earth. The Boer general was familiar with every crack and cranny of
that earth. He knew where to hide, where to dodge, where to scurry
away as fast as his convoy train could bear him company. Behind him,
plucky, but totally in ignorance of the natural advantages of the
country, toiled and perspired and skirmished the British army.
Horses were exhausted, men were killed and supply wagons were
captured, all to little or no purpose. If the quarry could not be
taken by direct pursuit, it was needful to have recourse to the
methods of the ranch. Pursuit failing, it was time for a round-up.
To this end, the Orange River Colony had been marked off into
sections by the rows of blockhouses strung upon barbed wire. Drive
after drive had been made into these enclosures; and every drive had
brought its bag of game. But still the general himself had eluded
them. Early in February, however, a giant drive had been planned,
directed away from the enclosure in order that, once De Wet took
refuge in his usual trick of doubling back upon his pursuers, he
should find himself caught in the open trap. And, secure in the
ultimate success of his plan, Lord Kitchener waited at Wolvehoek in
expectation of its end.
The drive had been made, De Wet had doubled, and now the base of the
triangle was flowing in upon him, fully confident of success at
last. And the base was in part made up of the South African Light
Horse, and Carew and Weldon were of that Horse, and they rejoiced
accordingly.
Nightfall of the sixth found the quarry well inside the triangle,
and the South African Light Horse drawn up in a straight line
running westward from Lindley. The officers slept in their boots,
that night, and every trooper held himself tense in his blankets,
ready to cease snoring at an instant's notice. And far away to the
northward, the moving search-lights carved the frosty darkness with
their blinding cones of light.
Weldon was ordered out on picket duty, that night. All day long, he
had ridden hard, until even the zeal of Piggie had begun to flag.
Nevertheless, as the broad stripe of yellow reluctantly died out of
the western sky, his excited brain denied to his tired muscles the
sleep which they demanded. Accordingly, it was a relief when his
orders came, and he found himself advancing cautiously out into the
shadowy veldt.
Contrary to his usual mood when on picket, Weldon had no sense of
loneliness, that night. Reaching away from him on either hand was
the huge enclosing wall of humanity, pacing to and fro on picket
duty, guarding the blockhouses, patrolling the wire fences between.
Every man was alert to his duty; every nerve was taut with the
consciousness that somewhere within the cordon was the leader who
heretofore had escaped them, that each man was a link forged in the
endless chain which was stretched around the invisible enemy. And,
meanwhile, the starless sky and the waiting chain were equally
silent and equally freighted with mystery. And the future seemed
full of portent and very near.
Then, as the midnight hour swung past him, Weldon heard the rustle
of a quiet footfall. It was Captain Frazer's voice that answered his
challenge.
"I was looking for you, Weldon," he added.
"For anything especial?"
"No. I felt restless and couldn't sleep, so I thought I would go the
round of the pickets. They said you were out here. Where is Carew?"
"In my sleeping-bag. I don't encourage him for a neighbor just now.
He draws too much fire."
The Captain laughed softly.
"He is an unlucky beggar. Eight, nine, how many times is it that he
has been hit? He ought to engage a private nurse."
"He has." And Weldon explained the little scene at the door of the
hospital tent.
"Happy fellow! He deserves her, though. But it is an ideal
combination, that of nurse and soldier," the Captain answered
lightly. Then he asked, "What sort of a day have you had?"
"Rousing. Now the question is: what sort of a night are we going to
have?"
"The night of our lives, I suspect," the Captain replied, still in
the low tone in which all their talk had been made. "The orders are
to close in at daylight, and work the game up towards Wolvehoek;
but, if I know anything at all of De Wet, he won't wait till
daylight."
"You think he will fight?"
"If he does, it will be a fight to the finish," the Captain said
gravely.
Weldon's grip tightened on his rifle.
"When will it come?"
"Heaven only knows. Probably just before light. He will take this
end of things, on account of avoiding the railroads and--"
Weldon's hand shut on his arm.
"Hush! What's that?"
Swiftly the Captain's gravity vanished, and he laughed.
"By George, here they are!" he exclaimed.
From the veldt to the northward, there came a confused din of
rushing, trampling feet; a cloud of dust, lifted on the night
breeze, swept down upon them; and then a herd of stampeding cattle
dashed madly past, noses to earth and tails lashing in furious fear.
An instant later, the darkness to the left was shattered by dots of
light, and the air snapped with the double crack of Mauser rifles.
Far to the northward, though muffled by distance, there was more
firing, and yet more; and ever the moving searchlights carved their
way to and fro through the inky night.
Like a dog on the scent and ready for the plunge, Captain Frazer had
straightened to the full of his height and stood tense, waiting an
instant to measure the scope of the coming fight.
"It's a row, sure enough; and thank God, I'm in it!" he said quietly
then. "Come back to the line, Weldon. There'll be work for us all,
in a few minutes."
Even as he spoke, and while they were hurrying back to the squadron,
a random shot pierced the darkness just before them, and a bullet
whirred close above their heads. Another shot tossed up a spray of
dust at their feet, and a third fell full in the tent where Carew
was swiftly tightening his belts and assuring himself that his
bandoliers were full.
They found the camp already humming like a hive of angry bees. A
small matter of forty miles a day counted for nothing to men wakened
from heavy sleep to face the firing of an invisible foe. There was
no need of the murmured report that De Wet had bidden his followers
break through the British chain wherever its links were weakest.
Instinctively each man threw himself into fighting array, convinced
that the present minute marked the climax of the past days.
And, meanwhile, the limitless darkness shut down over the determined
cordon of British men facing steadily inward towards the foe which
they could not see; over the scattered knots of Boer horsemen,
secure in their full knowledge of every yard of the ground, riding
forward to fight their way through the chain into the veldt beyond.
And, far to the northward, De Wet was lurking in shadow long enough
to cut the wires and then ride away with his trio of faithful
followers.
To Weldon, fresh from the darkness and silence of the open veldt, it
seemed as if, of a sudden, the frosty night were tattered into
shreds. As the fight waxed hot about him, he lost all memory of the
intermediate stages. At one instant, all had been still and dim; at
another, the air before him was thick with vivid rifle flashes, his
ears were full of the strident din of flying bullets, of shouting
men, of squealing, moaning horses. For a time, he could see nothing
of the enemy but the flashing dots of fire. Then the dots drew
nearer, closed up, and the din was increased by the rattle of fixing
bayonets, by the dull, sucking sound of steel prodded into soft
masses, and by the thud of falling bodies. And always from the outer
circle the pitiless rain of bullets came splashing down upon them,
striking impartially on friend and on foe.
Side by side in the foremost rank, Weldon and Carew were fighting
like tigers. Carew's cheek was gashed by a passing bullet, and
Weldon's coat showed dark and wet over his left shoulder; but
neither man was conscious of pain, or of fear, or of anything else
than a surly determination to check the maddening rush before them.
Carew was slashing about him with all the strength of arm and
bayonet; but Weldon, disdaining his bayonet, was firing with a
steady aim which sent one man and then another to join the heap on
the ground at his feet.
A second bullet grazed his wrist, and a horseman swept down upon
him. For an instant, he wavered. Then he straightened his shoulders
and took careful aim. From ten feet away, he had heard a ringing
order, and the order had been given, not in the voice of his own
captain, but in that of Captain Frazer who, as ranking officer, had
taken command of the fight into which chance had led him. Weldon's
every nerve answered to the tonic of that voice. Not since
Vlaakfontein had he been under its command. Nevertheless, the old
spell was upon him, and he responded to its call. An instant before,
the rush towards him had seemed indomitable. Those furious, fighting
horsemen could not be stayed in their course. Now he braced himself
for the shock of their coming, while tired hand and blurring eye
roused themselves to do the bidding of his brain. He was dimly aware
that Paddy had struggled forward to his other side and, shoulder to
shoulder with him, was helping to beat back the iron-like force
pressing down upon them. Then, with the keen grasp of trifling
detail which often marks the supreme moment of mental exhaustion, he
became conscious that the hairy tail which brushed across his face
was unduly coarse and tangled, while a sudden cheer from around him
told that the Boers were turning in flight.
Dazed, he drew his hand across his face, and stared wonderingly at
the scarlet drops on his fingers. Then he turned and looked down at
Paddy with a whimsical, questioning smile. Paddy repeated his query.
"Are you hurt, little one?" he demanded, for the second time, as he
shook Weldon's arm.
Weldon steadied at the touch.
"No; only scratched a bit. It is nothing to last at all. Are you all
right?"
Paddy shut his hand over a shattered finger.
"Glory be! And the snakes of Boers is wriggling off to their holes.
And now, where's the Captain?"
They found him a little apart from the line, slightly to the front
and close beside a scattered heap of bearded men. His face was white
and the lines of his face were rigid and drawn; but he hailed them
just as he always had been used to do.
"My luck has changed," he added quietly. "They have taken my leg,
this time. Still, it's not so very painful. I'll fill my pipe first,
and then will you two fellows help me back, till we can find an
ambulance?"