The Kezane Store--shop, inn, farm, posting-stables rolled into one--was
almost a small fort, in that its buildings were enclosed within a stout
stockade of mopani poles. This is exactly as its owner intended it
should be; and now the said owner--an elderly German who had served in
the Franco-Prussian war--came forth, together with three other white
men, to welcome the party.
"_Ach_! dot was very exciting," he said. "We was hearing the fight--for
the last hour--coming nearer and nearer. We was not able to help
outside, only four of us, but we was ready to shoot from here if the
Matabele had come near enough."
The excitement of the men was now fairly let loose, and everybody seemed
to be talking at once; fighting the battle over again in bulk, or
recounting individual experiences. The surviving half of the handful of
police were more subdued--the recollection of five dead comrades left
behind on the road having something to do with it.
"Good old Grunberger," sang out Jim Steele. "You ought to have been
with us, a jolly old soldier like you. You'd have been a tiger."
"_Ach_! I do not know," replied the old German quite flattered. "Now,
chentlemen, you will all come and haf some drinks wit me. Wit me, you
understand."
"Good for you, Grunberger," said Peters. "But we can't leave everything
entirely without a guard. Why, they might come on again at any moment.
Who'll volunteer for first guard?"
There was perforce no actual discipline among this scratch corps, and
the speaker, or even Lamont himself, had no power to enforce obedience
to any single order they might issue. But these men had gone through a
splendid experience together. Quite half of them had never before seen
a life taken, or a shot fired in anger, in their lives; yet when put to
it they had made a gallant running fight, against tremendous odds, with
judgment and pluck such as no similar number of trained soldiers could
have excelled them in. They had succeeded in their object, and had
succeeded brilliantly, and the glow of satisfaction which this inspired
was heightened by the absolute certainty that had they overtaken the
mule-waggon ten minutes later their arrival would have been too late.
All this had implanted in them an instinctive soldierly spirit, and not
a man there would have dreamed of questioning an order issued by Lamont,
or even Peters. Yet the latter now invited some of them to `volunteer.'
The whole corps responded.
"Half a dozen 'll do," was the answer, and those who seemed the most
willing were duly told off. The while the ladies were being looked
after by the storekeeper's wife.
Lamont was helping to look after the wounded. Fortunately, among the
three men who found themselves at Kezane when they arrived was a young
doctor from Buluwayo; and his services being readily and skilfully
given, there was no cause whatever for anxiety on the part of these less
lucky ones.
"Where's the captain?" sang out Jim Steele, as the residue of the corps
were doing full and jovial justice to the hospitable German's
invitation. "We must have the captain. We want to drink his jolly good
health. Here it is. Here's to Captain Lamont, and ripping good luck to
him."
The toast was drunk with a roar of cheering.
"He's helping look after the wounded," said Peters. "There's a doctor
here luckily, and he's having them seen to all right."
A sort of compunctious silence fell upon the others at this
announcement. Here they were, refreshing and making merry and enjoying
themselves, while the man who had led them, and taken a tiger's share in
the fight, had gone straight away to care for their wounded comrades.
"Chaps," said Jim Steele shortly, "we are sweeps. D'you hear? Sweeps."
"It's all right, Jim," said Peters. "Lamont told me to look after you
all, even apart from Grunberger's jolly hospitable invitation. Don't
you bother about him."
"Bother about him?" echoed Jim Steele. "But that's just what we're
going to do. We must have him here and drink his jolly good health.
This time it'll be my round, boys, and we're going to do it with musical
honours. So, Peters, cut away and rout him out, like the good chap you
are."
Peters, nothing loth, went out. He found Lamont just coming out of the
house, having seen the wounded men made as snug and comfortable as they
could be under the circumstances. Indeed, he had been giving the doctor
actual aid with his own hands, in one case where an amputation had been
necessary.
"Certainly I'll come, Peters," he said. "I want to thank these fellows
for coming with me when I asked them. Heavens! to think what would have
happened if they'd hung back, for you and I would have been nowhere
against such odds. But--it won't bear thinking about."
A huge cheer greeted his entrance. All hands were awaiting him, glasses
ready. A gigantic tumbler of whisky-and-soda was thrust into his hand
by Jim Steele.
"Toss that down first, captain," said that worthy. "You've had nothing
yet."
Lamont, entering into the fun of the thing, complied. Then Jim Steele
went on--
"Boys, I'm going to give you the health of our captain, the biggest
tiger in a fight any fellow could wish to find himself alongside of--"