It was, like most of these retreats, a deep recess in the rocks. The
walls were ornamented with grotesque drawings, poorly executed in
coloured clay, of men and animals, the figures of the former more
resembling apes than men. The ground--for flooring there was none, save
a carpet woven by Nature's tasteful hand--was partially covered with
mats and skins, and the furniture consisted of a rickety camp-table and
two or three broken stools. A long roer and a pair of large pistols
were slung against the scarp of rock at the back of the recess, and the
place was faintly illuminated by a primitive kind of lamp--a calabash
filled with sheep-tail oil--from the centre of which rose a rush wick.
The coolness of this retreat,--for the sun's rays never penetrated
therein,--was delicious, after passing so many days in the open air
during the hottest period of the South African summer.
The lamp only emitted sufficient light to make darkness visible to the
travellers' unaccustomed eyes. On their entrance, they heard voices,
and Lyle stumbling over some object on the ground, there rose up Madame
Vander Roey's attendant pages, Lynx and Frolic, two small bushboy imps;
they uttered a little screech at sight of the new-comers, and were
tumbling out of the cave, when their mistress called them back and
issued some orders, desiring them to send Hans, the Hottentot. She then
lit another lamp, and thereupon they discerned another object in the
corner of the recess.
This was the aged father of Madame Vander Roey, a venerable Boer, with
snowy hair and a long silvery beard. His seat was an old arm-chair,
which his daughter had rendered more comfortable and sightly by throwing
over it a kaross made of the silver jackal's akin. His dress was of the
usual coarse duffle, a good deal worn, and a crutch beside him indicated
infirmity of body. His mind appeared less enervated than his limbs, and
he bowed with an air of great courtesy to the new-comers, evincing no
surprise at the appearance of strangers.
He shook his head mournfully, and inquired of his daughter if they were
English; she replied in the affirmative, and added that they were
friends.
His first thought was hospitable; he reminded her that they must need
refreshment; he next begged them to be seated, and inquired whence they
came.
Madame Vander Roey said that this question must be deferred for a while,
and left the dwelling to see that food was provided for the evening
meal.
The old Boer, Du Plessis, began to talk in soliloquising fashion as soon
as he was left with Lyle and Gray; the latter reclining listlessly
against the painted rock, the former with his full grey eye fixed
intently on Du Plessis.
"Has my daughter's husband returned?" asked the patriarch; but, instead
of waiting for an answer, he went back to memories seventy years old,
when he was a youth and his father a landowner in the lower districts of
the Cape. He repeated the usual tale of complaint. "They robbed us,"
said he, speaking of the kafirs. "We offered our humble petitions to
the great men at Cape Town, and asked for help; but, while we waited,
leaning upon promises--broken reeds!--our enemies swept away our
possessions, stole or mutilated our cattle and sheep, and left us poor.
Then we learned with great sorrow that some of our fellow-burghers were
against us, and time was lost in disproving this, and our enemies
laughed at us; therefore we sent messengers to their honours in Cape
Town, and said, `As we possess little, we pray you let us go and live in
peace upon the Sneeuwberg, where, if you will permit us to remain, we
will pay you rent; there is quiet there and much game; indeed, we need a
supply of food, for many of us now have not a hundred sheep and five
cattle. Let us go then with our small flocks and our wives and our
little ones.' So then we waited, and could get no certain answer, and
our great men advised us to go, and we went sorrowfully, and sent again
messengers to implore forgiveness of their honours if we had done amiss
in _trekking_, and prayed the Lord would bestow His grace upon them,
that they might select a fitting person to arrange all disputes between
neighbours.
"We fared ill with the bushmen: if we went out to kill sea-cows, these
robbers would follow us, or plunder our homes in our absence, or shoot
at us with their poisoned arrows. So we grew more and more
impoverished, and a generation passed away while we were waiting for
help; and so, not being able to hold out against the robbers, we
abandoned our places again."
Here Madame Vander Roey returned to make such preparations as the times
permitted for setting the supper-table in array; her father went
wandering on.
"Next," said he, "they took away our slaves. We had been told by good
teachers that slavery was bad, that we had no right to traffic in human
flesh; but we could not understand anything at first except that we were
left without servants, and with pieces of paper in our hands, which we
were told were money-bills, but that we must go to Cape Town to get them
cashed, and so we did; but we had many hundreds of miles to go. Some
trekked away with their slaves altogether, but my father inclined to the
Government, and accepted what they called compensation, and I went with
him to Cape Town, and we were glad to sell our bills for what we could
get from the merchants, and when we came back we found our farms
uncultivated, our cattle gone, and our wives and children very
miserable; so, you see, my white brothers, we have come step by step
further and further and further, and I am heart-sore, and would fain
listen to the word that my son Vander Roey shall bring; for I had rather
die in peace with all men and with my face turned to the west, than with
anger in my heart."
Hans brought in, on some sticks, some slices of broiled gnoo, and there
was a rusty tin dish, filled with rice and _carbonatje_; the savoury
steam was grateful to the senses of even the melancholy Gray, and some
coarse but sweet bread and a calabash of Cape brandy being added to the
refection, the adventurers did full justice to their hostess's
hospitable display.
The bald rocks of Asphogels' Kop, a peak distinguished from the other
heights of the Stormberg by this name, were shining like snow in the
rays of the newly-risen silver moon, when Lynx and Frolic put their
impish faces into the cave, and announced that Vander Roey and his
escort were in sight of the Donder Berg, for a fire was blazing on the
hill.
The old Boer crossed his hands on his breast, closed his eyes, and his
lips moved, as Gray supposed, in prayer. The deserter sat down beside
the aged Du Plessis; Madame Vander Roey, accompanied by Lyle, left the
cave. On emerging from it, into the clear moonlit air, the latter saw
that the whole bivouac was astir; there were some forty men and eight or
nine women, several children, and a motley assembly of Hottentots,
half-castes, and bushmen. These gathered together in a group near
Madame Vander Roey, and the beads of approaching men and horses soon
appeared above the long waving grass of the little plain, on which the
encampment was spread in somewhat disorderly fashion.
The equestrian party came up leisurely, after the manner of those who
bring no cheerful or decided tidings. The atmosphere was clear and
light as that of day.
Madame Vander Roey said, in a low voice, to Lyle, "There is no good
news!"
And so it proved. Vander Roey had not even bees admitted to an
interview with Sir John Manvers; indeed, there was little time for
treating with any one; for, as we have shown, the brand and the spear
were abroad, and the colonists were looking with anxious eyes for the
"sea-wagons from across the broad waters," and their freights of "red
men."
The captain of the bivouac, Lodewyk, a boater, with a race almost
covered with hair, arms bared to the elbow, but garnished, Kafir
fashion, with bangles of brass, and a ring of ivory, a large straw hat
on his head, and equipped with leather trowsers, girded with a belt
containing immense pistols, and carrying besides an elephant gun,
stepped forwards as Vander Roey swung himself from his jaded horse, and
said, in a loud, distinct voice, in the Dutch language,
"Vander Roey, is it peace or war with our white brothers?"
"War," replied the Boer leader, abruptly, and strode on without greeting
his wife, who followed him to the cave.
"War!" shouted Lodewyk--"War!" echoed Lyle; and Lodewyk, recognising the
trader, whom he had had dealings with of late, turned to Lyle, and
offered his hand.
Lyle grasped it.
"Let us smoke a pipe of tobacco together," said Lodewyk, and the two men
strolled off towards the habitation of the latter; it was a domicile,
half hut, half tent, formed of withered boughs and skins, and screened
from the east by a scarp of rock, on which many a grotesque and
unnatural-looking creature was depicted in yellow ochre and
different-coloured chalks.
Circumstances conspired to induce Lyle to develop his plans and purposes
sooner than he had first intended; there was something in the bearing of
Lodewyk that chimed in with his own feverish desire to be up and doing;
and, on the other hand, Lodewyk had been attracted by the hearty,
dare-devil style in which the Englishman had flung up his hat, in the
moonlight, and shouted "War! war! to the knife!"
They talked fair into the night, as they reclined on a bank facing the
habitation of the Vander Roeys. Gray had joined them, and lay fast
asleep, his head pillowed by a stone.
The people in the bivouac, through which the cry of "War!" had rung till
the voices that uttered it were hoarse, were all busied in preparing for
the march at early day across the mountains, the chief having resolved
to move to the plains, where the majority of the Boers and their
families were awaiting his decision to _trek_ or return.
The women were as busy as the men, collecting the few draught-oxen they
possessed, and yoking them to the wagons with their own hands, that
there might be no delay; and stalking in silence from group to group,
and wagon to wagon, but chiefly intent on superintending the packing of
all the gunpowder that remained, on the backs of the beasts of burden,
might be seen Vander Roey, with his broad-flapped hat and dark ostrich
plume, towering in height above his fellows, and issuing his orders, in
a tone of lofty command.
Within the cave, Madame Vander Roey was making preparations for the
journey, her father watching her movements with a sad, bewildered dr.
"Peace or war!" muttered the old man. "How many years have I been
wandering without rest for the sole of my foot, without a roof to
shelter these grey hairs? My son Vander Roey, let it be peace till I
die. Whither would you take me? The mountains will sunder me from my
dead--my buried wife--my three brave sons, all lying in one grave,
killed within a month. I can see from these plains the blue peaks of
the hills beneath which they lie. Let me, too, rest here, within sight
of those blue hills!
"There has been strife too long, always strife. Let there be peace till
I die!--peace! peace!"
And so the old man muttered on, his daughter proceeding with her
preparations, and now and then remonstrating with him kindly, and
begging him to rest as long as he could on the couch she had spread for
him, and so arranged that it could be lifted like a litter. In this,
with a light wagon-tilt, the aged patriarch was to be borne over the
mountains on the morrow.
Ere the night had passed, three men rode into the camp; these were
Brennard and two young Boers of Vander Roey's party. The former had
resolved to join the rebels, and due greetings passed between him and
Lyle. Poor Gray, shuddered at the web gathering round him, but there
was no escape. He was resolved, however, to keep to the one resolution
he had formed during his miserable sojourn among strangers--he would not
fight against his sovereign's troops, come what might.
He could recollect many a loyal saying of his father's; as a child, he
had been taught to "fear God and honour the King." In spite of the sway
his passions had obtained over him, he remembered the lesson; and now,
in spite of difficulties and danger, he determined to keep his fealty to
his liege. Alas! many a soldier who forgets God abides by his
allegiance to man!
Brennard confirmed all that Lyle had been striving to impress on
Lodewyk. He swore that Holland had protested against the conduct of the
English Government towards the unfortunate white Africans; that help
would be sent to Natal, near which the Boers might establish a
government of their own, backed by the mother-country; that France was
favourably disposed towards the descendants of her sons. They might
hear through the papers that France was perfectly peaceful; but it was
not so--the people of France would dance over a mine till it sprung and
destroyed them--they were deaf to all warnings; the rising Powers had
already begun to think of the colonial possessions of England, and their
unsatisfactory state. As for the colony, now was the time to make ready
for war. The troops, although they fended the Kafirs would be easily
beaten, would be thoroughly harassed--"used up"--before reinforcements
could arrive. Every one knew that Sir John Manvers, the present
commander of the forces, was an irresolute, sullen, haughty man, anxious
for the arrival of the new Governor, who was reported to be Sir Adrian
Fairfax. Every one knew, too, what Sir Adrian was; he had said that he
compassionated the Boers, but was bound to carry out the orders of
Government, and _must_ shoot them as rebels if they attempted to show
fight. What had they--these poor, unhappy white Africans--gained by
passive endurance of ill? In England, men were already standing up for
a fresh Charter on their own ground--but what did the Boers want? Only
space to feed their cattle, permission to exercise their own laws,
without interfering with the English--and this was not to be granted.
Would they submit like dogs? At any rate, was it not worth while to
_try_ for freedom?
Vander Roey followed up this tirade by informing those who had not
accompanied him to the British settlements, that he had been turned from
Sir John Manvers's door like a dog. "He sent me word," said he, "that
he had not time to listen to me. His messenger was a youth with
careless mien. I opened my lips to speak, but he heeded me not. I
could hear voices, and see lights through the doorways, and the young
man passed away, leaving me to be shown out of the house by a servant.
I walked by the front of the mansion; the man who `had not time to see
me' was receiving guests in a large lighted room. The windows were
open, and I stood in the garden, grinding my teeth with rage. I strode
out of the light into the darkness; my horse stood patiently at the
great gates of that fine house. He hung his head; he was worn with hard
riding--he had a sorry look--the sentry, standing under the lamp, was
laughing at his miserable plight. I mounted him, dashed through the
town, and never drew rein till I reached a river, the waters whereof
bubbled and foamed, and I was forced to stop to give the good beast
rest. We lay down side by side to sleep, and when I awoke, poor `Starry
Night' was dead!
"I had to carry my saddle many a mile before I came up with my people;
they asked me few questions, but saw that hope was lost--so now for
war."
"War! war!"--it was not _shouted_ now, but passed from lip to lip, as
the chief occupants of the bivouac continued their preparations for the
early journey. Only the children and a few of the elder people were
asleep in the open ground, for the tents and other wretched contrivances
for covering were struck, and all the poor property of these unhappy
wanderers packed for the march.
"War! war!" was the dogged watchword of sullen men without. Du Plessis
sat up on his couch of skins. "Peace! peace! let there be peace!" he
murmured. His daughter laid him gently down on his rude pillow, a
saddle, and, before taking an hour's rest herself, stepped out beyond
the cave to see how the people sped in loading, under Vander Roey's
superintendence, the patient beasts of burden.
Lo! a brilliant lunar rainbow spanned, with its broad, illuminated arch,
the little plain over which the houseless people were scattered. "See,"
said Madame Vander Roey to her husband,--"see the sign of peace God
sends us. Ah! I begin to feel myself but a woman; _must_ you lift your
hand against our white brethren?"
"We are aliens," replied Vander Roey, sullenly. "We have no white
brethren but those who will echo our cry of war."
Madame Vander Roey re-entered the cavern, and, casting herself on a pile
of dried leaves, was soon asleep.
Oh! the contrast of that shining arch, which God had set in the heavens,
and the restless, feverish scene below; horses neighing, bad men
swearing, children wakening from their uneasy asleep, and screaming in
vague terror, women foremost in urging men to up-saddle and trek.
Lodewyk, Brennard, and Lyle, strong in nerve and limb, forswore sleep
till they should pass the mountain ridge which shut out the western
plains from their sight. Gray lay betwixt sleeping and waking, and as
he watched the hues of the rainbow blend one within the other till they
faded into mist and veiled the beauty of the moon, an old fancy revived
within him--a child's fancy--"that the rainbow takes its shape and hues
from the gathered tears of Heaven," and is set in the clouds by angel
heralds, as a token between God and man of a covenant of peace.
The clouds which, like sheeted ghosts, hung about the sides of the
Stormberg mountains, melted into drizzling showers, and met the party
commanded by Vander Roey, in its journey up the steep and stony
pathways.
First rode Vander Roey, his flapped hat and sweeping feather drawn down
to his eyebrows. A little apart from him, watching his leader's
countenance with keen and anxious glance, strode the wild hunter on
foot, staff in hand, a handkerchief bound round his head, and this
surmounted by a coarse, weather-beaten straw hat. Close behind were
Brennard, Lyle, and Lodewyk. The former was a sworn ally of Vander
Roey--he, too, had been a deserter. Lyle, introduced as his friend, had
found a ready welcome, but as yet had had no opportunity of close
discussion with Vander Roey; and poor Gray was mounted on a somewhat
tired steed; but this signified little, as the acclivity was
impracticable for a hurried journey; and, besides this, the feeble and
infirm of the party could only proceed at a certain pace. Very few
wagons accompanied the procession, and these halted often, that the
smoking oxen might take fresh breath for the desperate task before them.
Now a wagon was lifted almost edgeways on a huge block of stone, now it
came down with a crash that threatened dislocation to every joint of the
creaking mass; sometimes the poor animals, in utter despair at the sight
of the almost perpendicular track, dashed at it at headlong speed,
halted suddenly, and were almost dragged back by the weight of the huge
vehicle in the rear; or, if they did succeed in gaining a ridge,
overlooking a hollow in the mountain-side, would plunge recklessly on,
and come down _en masse_, jumbled together in a confused heap.
But, apparently absorbed in thought, sullen, angry, smarting under a
keen sense of wrong and disappointment, the leader expressed no
impatience at the delays occasioned by the feebleness or incapacity of
the most useless followers of the cavalcade. He made no reply when told
that a halt must be called, for the sake of some sickly family, wasted
with fever, from lying long in the open bivouac, or some patriarch of
the tribe, head of three or four generations, who could not walk, was
not strong enough to sit his horse, or whose rheumatic limbs needed a
respite from the jolting of the wagon. Moodily silent, he sat upon his
powerful horse, which he had kept fresh for the work before him, and
apart from his fellow-men, save that Lodewyk and Brennard occasionally
conferred with him. At last Lyle made his way slightly in advance, and,
turning his horse's head to the westward, surveyed the panorama lying
before him. They were on a ridge of table-rock near the summit of the
lowest mountain, over which their path lay, and here it was intended
they should outspan for an hour or two, and make a meal of some of the
poor sheep, which with great difficulty had been driven up the steep by
the bushboys, Lynx and Frolic.
Lyle's powerful frame, bronzed but handsome face, the very air with
which he carried his rifle, his attitude on horseback,--in fact, his
whole bearing, as he smiled cordially on Vander Roey, attracted the
latter at once to his colleague. The two riders brought their horses
together, neck and neck, and watched the party winding up the steep.
In rear of all was old Du Plessis on a litter. The mists had cleared
away, the rays of the sun illuminated the hills above them with a glory,
the clouds were tinged with flame. Nature breathed gently on the rocky
soil, and as the aged Boer sat up in his primitive palanquin, the tilt
partially drawn back, the balmy breeze lifted his white hair, and seemed
to refresh him. His daughter rode close by, reining in, with no small
skill, a horse of the same shape and power as her husband's, but with
some attempt at smartness about his harness; the saddle was a man's, but
she had learned to ride in the civilised districts, and with the left
stirrup shortened, and the right one brought over to the near side, she
contrived to sit with comfort and considerable grace; but the head-gear
was unsightly,--a gingham bonnet, shaped like a wagon-tilt, almost
concealed her face, yet from the depths of this miniature tunnel flashed
out the dark and brilliant eyes; but when these turned upon her father,
their radiance softened to a tender light.
As Vander Roey and Lyle sat conversing in short pithy sentences on the
subject of oppression, the former believing Lyle's indignation to be as
patriotic and disinterested as his own, the latter somewhat discomposed
at finding Vander Roey as shrewd, resolute, and intelligent as himself,
and withal comparatively honest of purpose, though blind in judgment,
they both watched the last division, consisting of the chief Boer's
wife, the litter, its bearers, and some of the younger people of the
clan.
All at once, Madame Vander Roey dropped her reins, clasped her hands,
sprung from her horse, and cast herself on her knees beside the couch of
her father, then looking upward, beckoned her husband to her; her bonnet
railing off, disclosed an anguished countenance. Vander Roey
dismounted, and leading his horse, descended the few hundred yards, that
lay between him and his wife. Lyle followed, and the little crowd,
halting on the hill-side, looked down upon the litter and the attendant
group.
Du Plessis had raised himself with a strength unusual to him; an
unnatural light filled his eyes; his voice, though not loud, was firm
and clear. The air was so still, that the gentle breeze wafted his
words to those above. Those who could, drew as near as they could do
with due respect to his immediate relatives.
"My children," said the old man, "draw near. Let me bless you before I
die. I thank my God that he gives me light at the last. I shall die
within sight of those dark purple hills, whose feet are washed by those
pleasant streams beside which I dwelt through many a long, long year.
There my forefathers came, pitched their tents, and tarried for four
generations. There they sowed, there they reaped, there they were
despoiled, but abided patiently for help that never came. My children,
I would fain have you still wait for help; the race is not to the swift,
nor the battle to the strong; God will take his own time to make the
crooked pathways straight, and the rough places plain; think well before
you lift your hand against your white brethren."
Old memories seemed to flit in shadows before the eye of the dying
"white African settler;" it looked into the past. A sudden flush
crimsoned the ashy cheek, and the eyes shone with tears.
Folding his trembling and withered hands together, he gave himself up to
thoughts of bygone days; the cheek paled again, but the tears of
weakness rolled slowly down, and bedewed the old rough jacket. He was
back again at the foot of those hills, purpling in the glory of the
morning sun, but green and fresh in his memory even now. He mentioned
father, mother, brothers, sisters, wife, all gone; all lying beneath the
sod near a ruined chapel. Of all his people, his daughter was the last
one; his sons' bones had bleached unburied in the waste.
Sometimes swiftly, sometimes slowly, he spoke of the days when the white
men of Africa were all united: "But now," said he, "our white brethren--
where are they? Some tell us they are sorry. We were friends once. We
ate bread together, we smoked our pipes together at sunset. We had no
thought of strife--strife--strife. Peace, peace"--the wings of the
angel of death swooped down, and overshadowed his recollection. A gleam
of light irradiated his face for a few minutes, he raised himself higher
on his couch, the wind parted the snowy hair on his majestic brow, his
gaze was fixed westward, his arms were stretched towards the mountain
ridges of his first home, his daughter clasped his hands in hers, he
bowed his white head upon her breast, she uttered a loud cry, Vander
Roey stooped to support the patriarch, but he was dead to human
sympathy. The sable wings of Azrael had overshadowed him, and his soul
passed away, while his outward vision was fixed longingly and lovingly
upon those mountain ridges which he was never more to tread in youth or
age, in sorrow or in joy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
They buried him decently upon the lone hill-side.
Few of the married families were without their Bibles; and he, who stood
next in age to Du Plessis, said a prayer over the open grave. While
they were occupied in closing it with safe blocks of stone, a mother
gathered a little flock around her, and read them a chapter suited to
the occasion. Madame Vander Roey sat beside her, weeping bitterly; the
men stood apart in groups. Some had been impressed with the old man's
last words, "Peace, peace."
But as in all disorganised communities the strong and evil spirit of
man's nature prevails over the good, there were not wanting women, as
well as men, to step forward and urge even the incident of old Du
Plessis' death as an incentive to carry out the purpose of wrath and of
revenge. He, the aged, the virtuous, the banished patriarch!--who had
driven him into the wilderness to die, but his white brother, another
Cain? Were they to submit to the will of these jealous, bad white
brethren, who permitted the savage Kafir the exercise of his diabolical
laws, his heathen rites, and denied the poor Dutch colonist the use of
his own moral laws? Who had first robbed them of their slaves, and then
pretended to make them compensation for depriving them of what was
theirs by purchase? Had not Du Plessis himself urged the obligation of
making a sacrifice, because it was disgraceful to white men to trade in
human flesh? What reward had he gained? His cattle had been swept
away, his sons shot down by the Kafirs, his home devastated; he had met
with no pity or redress, and he had died sorrow-stricken amid the
mountains of the storm.
And to add to these grievances, men had belied them, and were still
belying them, in England. The traders, now with them, had brought them
the evil sayings of wicked or ignorant Englishmen, who proclaimed to the
world that the Boer was cruel and rapacious, never satisfied with the
land he had pillaged from the Hottentots, but committing unequalled
cruelties against them, entering their countries with commandoes,
despoiling them of their cattle, devastating their villages; but men
were among them now who knew how false these allegations were; that the
commandoes, wherein many a life was lost, were undertaken to recover
their own goods stolen from them by the thieving Hottentots, the
bushmen, and Kafirs, who had no villages, except hamlets of huts built
by the hands of women, their beasts of burden; a noble race were these
to be indulged and pitied by enlightened men of the greatest nation in
the world...
"Peace. Yes, they would have peace; but the waters of many a river must
be turned into blood first ere this would be. On, on! to the land of
promise, the land flowing with milk and honey, where they should have
their own rules, and the judge and the criminal speak one language face
to face!"
So spoke Lodewyk, the hunter, standing between, and at all times
appealing by gesture to Brennard and Lyle. Alas! the sentiments he
uttered had been strengthened by the agency of these two desperate men.
Gray sat moodily apart from all, resigned doggedly to the fate that
awaited him, but resolute in his intent to die, rather than fight
against "his own."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day was dying in glory on the hills Du Plessis loved, ere all the rites
of sepulture were concluded, and as the moon came up calm, serene, and
radiant, the sky cloudless, the elements at peace, the band of pilgrims
halted on the mountain ridge, and, turning their faces towards the homes
of their forefathers, sang their beautiful paraphrase of the 137th
Psalm, "By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept;" and as the last
low notes floated dirge-like over the patriarch's new-made grave, they
descended the eastward side of the mountains, and held their silent
course during the night, halting at daylight, when many an eager,
carious gaze was turned to scenes hitherto unexplored by these
wanderers. As the mists lifted, a strong gleam of sunlight shot down
upon a spot in the centre of a wide-spreading, treeless plain. Some men
of the party advanced and fired a volley from their roers. A thick
wreath of smoke intercepted the glory of the sun's rays, and the signal
was responded to. As the eye became accustomed to the glare, a large
bivouac, dotted with tents, wagons, oxen, sheep, horses, and men, became
distinctly visible. Soon a little body of horsemen were seen skimming
the plains, and ere long the salute of their uplifted hats was answered
by a similar movement on the part of Vander Roey's determined band.