Dick Selmes, who had intuitively grasped the simplicity of the tactics
to be observed, was at the back of the room; not quite opposite the
doorway, lest the light from without should fall upon him. The minutes
of waiting were tense beyond the critical moment of any adventure which
had come his way yet. And it was a time of waiting. The savages would
allow time, after the removal of the light, for the occupants to retire.
It would be so much easier to wreak their deed of red murder upon the
slumbering and unsuspecting, and this he realised. But his pulses were
throbbing, and it seemed that his own heart-beats must be audible to
those outside. Then he pulled himself together. A grim, satirical
impulse to laughter was upon him as he thought what a deadly surprise
was in store for them, and cautiously he fingered the ammunition in his
pockets so as to guard against the possibility of losing precious time
in trying to jam the wrong cartridges into the wrong gun. Ha! Now for
it!
For the upper half of the door was slowly opening. A dark head and
shoulders were framed within the square of comparative light from
outside, then the watcher could make out that their owner was bending
over to try and undo the inner fastenings of the lower half of the door.
The head was well within the room; why didn't the axe descend upon it?
But Elsie McGunn had laid her plans deeper than that.
The Kafir turned, and seemed to be signalling back to his fellows; then
giving his attention to his own work, he straddled the lower half of the
door and was within the room. But before he had time even to stand
upright he fell like a log. For the axe-head had descended, catching
him with a horrid crunch just where the skull joined on to the back of
the neck. Not a groan, not a struggle. The chief, Sandili, had lost
one fighting man, and that at the hand of a woman.
Silence again. Now another dark form filled the square, and the same
inward move began, only the new-comer did not imitate his predecessor in
striving to undo any fastenings. He was a gigantic, grease-smeared
beast, and Dick Selmes could make out a glint of moonlight upon white
eyeball, and a glisten on assegai blades, held in the dark cruel hand,
as he made the effort of clambering over. Then the downward sweep, and
crunch of the weighty iron, and this one sank as silently as the first.
The chief, Sandili, had lost two fighting men, and that at the hand of a
woman.
Heavens! could this go on for ever? thought the entranced spectator,
standing back in the black gloom, awaiting his turn. Surely those
outside would become suspicious--in popular parlance, would "smell a
rat." But he forgot that the essence of their plan was to effect an
entrance one by one and in silence, and to that end they would wait
until each was safely inside, and, so as not to press or hurry the
foregoing one, would not wait immediately against the door. So, in a
trice, a third appeared, and met with exactly the same fate. Sandili,
the chief, had lost three fighting men, and still at the hand of a
woman.
The extraordinary dexterity and noiselessness with which each savage had
been felled, had awakened no sort of suspicion among those without. But
with the arrival of the fourth within the room, Elsie had somehow
miscalculated by ever so little, and instead of laying this one out,
rigid and motionless, the heavy iron head of the axe had descended full
upon the skull instead of upon the lower base thereof; consequently,
although the Kafir went down like a felled ox, the stroke was not
sufficiently vital in its effect as to prevent him from emitting a
groan, such as will sometimes proceed from a felled ox lying prone
beneath the hammer. And it carried to the ears of those outside.
These were seen to start and stand stock still, as though listening
intently. Then massing together, they came straight for the door, at a
sort of stealthy, creeping run.
"Shute, lad! Shute now!" whispered Elsie, quickly. Dick advanced a
step or two, just keeping still out of sight. A sharp, detonating roar,
and the heavy charge of Treble A. raked the bunched-up mass. Another
roar, and the effect was terrific, indescribable. The ground was
covered with dark, struggling forms, others staggering and tumbling over
these. At such close quarters the execution done had been deadly,
awful. The night air was rent with screams and yells. Some, leaping
up, fell immediately, even before they could carry out their intention
of limping away. Others lay still, as if never to move again. It
seemed that there was hardly one untouched among that stricken heap.
But there was, and although the move escaped Dick, a rapid signal was
given. Then from the further shade there rushed forth a number of dark
forms, and in open line--for they had taken in the lesson and avoided
massing--these spread out, so as to surround the house. But Dick Selmes
had reloaded in a second, and now, quick to take in a favourable moment,
he raked the line at such a point that three or four dropped beneath the
deadly buckshot. And now the night air rang with demoniacal yells. The
vengeful savages, drunk with fury, sprang round to the front of the
house and swarmed up the steps of the stoep.
"Go ye round to the front," said Elsie. "All keep 'em out of here."
She had swung up her axe again. Dick, in a second, had gained the
front. The house, situated on a slope, was considerably higher than the
level of the ground on this side, and there were no end windows. There
were, however, two commanding the stoep, one on either side of the front
door. It took hardly a moment to throw open one of these, and not
another to rake the mass of Kafirs pouring up the steps, with a charge
of the deadly buckshot. Yelling, struggling, such as could move, that
is, they would have fallen back, but those behind prevented this. Again
the other barrel spoke, this time with the same effect. Thoroughly
demoralised now, those who could do so glided away, and sought the
nearest cover. And then upon Dick's ears came a loud cry of alarm, and
it came from Hazel's room.
This was at the end of the house, projecting beyond the stoep, the
window looking out in front. With a bound he had gained the door, and
burst it open.
Hazel was standing back in a corner of the room, transfixed with terror.
As a matter of fact, she had summoned up rare courage in deciding to
remain quietly where she was instead of rushing out, and so, seriously
to hamper and embarrass the defenders, as her natural impulse would have
been. What Dick now saw was a big Kafir worming himself through the
window, half in, half out. But, quick as thought, somebody pushed past
him, and in the now flooding moonlight he saw the lift of the
Scotswoman's brawny arms, and, with a crunching thud, down came the
axe-head on the skull of the venturesome savage, with the same result as
before.
"You've left your side, Elsie," he said.
"Go ye back to it," was the answer. "A'm staying here."
There was a crisp, uncompromising decisiveness about this statement that
Dick well knew there would be no disputing. So he obeyed. Now, through
the upper half of the door, the quince hedge was visible in the
moonlight, and so, apparently, was he, for now a roar of firearms broke
forth from that cover, and a shower of bullets and pot-legs came
rattling against the walls of the house; one indeed inside, not far, he
could have sworn, from his ear.
The moon, though far from at full, threw upon the house a great deal too
much light, and, on the other hand, not enough to dispel the shade of
the quince hedge. To this extent the enemy had the advantage, and the
flash and roar, and the vicious spit of missile on wall or roof--or a
humming whistle above either, as it hurtled away harmlessly into space--
was continuous. Kafirs, as a rule, are execrable shots, though here and
there a rare exception is to be found. Such a rare exception now Dick
Selmes began to fear was present among this crowd, for every now and
then a single bullet would hum through the upper half of the door,
always striking in the same place, and always when he, judging position
from some recent discharge, had returned the fire, using the rifle this
time.
But now that he had to play a waiting game, his blood cooled. The
nights were short at this time of year. With the first light of morning
their weakness would become apparent. The Kafirs would find some means
of rushing them. It was clear that Thompson's prediction had been
verified. This was no sporadic outbreak of irresponsible savagery. The
whole Gaika location was up in arms, and the glow succeeding glow which
he and Hazel had seen earlier in the evening, was that of flaming
homesteads, deserted or the reverse, which the barbarians had fired to
signal their rising. As for relief from without, why, it was probable
that Komgha itself was threatened, or if not, to send forth a small
force among thousands of savages pillaging and burning would be madness,
whereas to send out a large one would be to expose the settlement itself
to attack and massacre. Things looked dark enough, anyway, and now the
first heat and excitement of actual and active fight over, a reaction of
foreboding set in upon him. A soft rustle of garments beside him in the
darkness made him start.
"Mr Selmes. I have a plan. It might be worth trying."
"Good God, Mrs Waybridge, go out of here! There's one beast who can
shoot, and you're bang in the line of fire. Ah!"
With the very words a missile came humming between the two, splashing
itself into the wall. Dick pulled her suddenly and forcibly out of the
line of the open half-door.
"This is it," she said, as coolly as though nothing had happened. "The
rockets. Why not do something with the rockets?"
"The rockets! Ah!"
The words escaped him with a gasp, and the explanation of the idea was
this. By way of adding to their Christmas festivities, now barely a
week back, the Waybridges had imported a big box of fireworks. But they
had not been used, thanks to an opportune suggestion from Harley
Greenoak to the effect that, in the current state of alarm, the firing
off of rockets might be misunderstood and cause a scare, under the
impression that they were being sent up as signals of distress. Now
they would come in for just that very purpose.
"The idea is splendid, Mrs Waybridge," said Dick. "Will you get them
out. I can't leave my post."
"I have got them out. One minute."
She went into the other room, and immediately returned with quite a
bundle of rockets, all attached ready to the sticks.
"Is Hazel all right?" he whispered eagerly.
"Yes. Elsie is watching over her. I know I would about as soon try and
steal its cub from a lioness under the same circumstances," she added,
with a laugh.
"And you? You are splendidly cool and plucky. What about the children?
Aren't they scared?"
"They are, of course, poor chicks. But they've learnt to do as they are
told. They are inside--and quite quiet."
The plan was soon formed. Dick was to go outside and stick up the
rockets just in front of the stoep. None of the enemy seemed to be on
that side, the ground was too open and devoid of cover in the clear
moonlight. The while Mrs Waybridge, gun in hand, would watch his
present post.
"It's done," whispered Dick, returning in a minute. "There are half a
dozen of them there. But before I touch them off I've got a jolly
little surprise for our friends yonder. Now look, and you'll see some
fun."
Slightly opening one of the windows, with the aid of a chair he adjusted
a rocket horizontally on the sill, in such wise as to rake the quince
hedge, as near as he could judge, at the point whence the man who _was_
a marksman had been making things lively for them. Then, striking a
match, and carefully shading it, he touched the fuse.
It sputtered a moment. Then there was a deafening and appalling hiss,
and a great fiery snake of sparks sped straight for the point designed,
bursting with a crackling boom in among the quince hedge. The effect
was ample. A hubbub of cries and shouts arose among the lurking
savages, and immediately Dick had placed another rocket into position
and touched it off with similar effect. Utterly panic-stricken now, the
Kafirs thought of nothing but wild flight, and the crashing of their
demoralised retreat through the garden was the most welcome sound the
beleaguered listeners had at one time ever expected to hear again.
Quick as thought Dick slipped out to the front, and applied a light to
the upright rockets, one after another. Band after band of snake-red
flame leapt up into the heavens, bursting with shell-like boom into
beautiful blue and red and golden stars.
"There!" he said, coming back, and choking with laughter, in sheer
reaction, "I believe Jack Kafir thinks the end of the world has come, or
the Police artillery--doesn't matter which. Your idea has been the
saving of this camp, Mrs Waybridge, if he doesn't get over his scare
and come back."