Charge! Part 72

"That's good business, gentlemen," said the Sergeant grimly. "I like to see reinforcements when one's in a tight place."

He patted Bob on the shoulder as my brother took his place beside the two soldiers at the front of the wagon, my father going to the back.

"You can shoot, then, my lad?"

"Oh yes," said Bob quietly. "My father taught me five years ago."

"That's right," said the Sergeant, and he set the lantern on one side and covered it closely with one of the rugs. "Now, silence. We don't want to invite attack. Here they come! They're mounted men, and they may sweep past. Hear that bugle?" he said to me.

"Yes," I replied, almost below my breath.

"Officers hear them coming. Prepare for cavalry. Here they come. They've rallied, and- No, no. Hark! Hark! Hurrah! No, no; don't cheer, my lads. They're racing for their lives, and there's a line of cavalry after them."

"Hurrah, Val!" shouted Denham wildly. "Our Light Horse out and at 'em at last!"

"Oh," I groaned, "and we not with them now!"

"But they're sweeping after them in full charge, and sabring right and left. Look-look! I can see it all. No, no," he groaned; "it's as dark as pitch.-But they're scattering them, Sergeant?"

"Like chaff, sir, and- Hark at that!"

Crack! crack! Two volleys rang out.

"I hope that has not gone through to friends," growled the Sergeant. "Ah, all right, gentlemen; there goes the 'Cease firing.' They know your Light Horse have been let loose. The Boers won't stand after this, so we may sing 'G.o.d save the Queen!' 'Rule Britannia!' and the rest of it. This fight's won, boys. Silence in the ranks!"

He was just in time to stop a cheer, after which we listened to the sounds of the engagement or pursuit, now growing more distant, and I asked a question or two of my father, who now returned to my side.

"Your aunt, my boy? She is safe in Pietermaritzburg. The farmhouse was burned to the ground, all the sheep and cattle commandeered, and your brother and I forced into the Boer ranks."

I could ask no more questions for a few moments; but Denham was not restrained by his feelings, and I heard him ask the Sergeant:

"But how was it you came to the help of the Light Horse, Sergeant? Did you know we were shut up?"

"Not till yesterday morning or this morning at daybreak, sir. The General knew your corps was missing, and that there was a strong force of Boers camped out this way; but we were precious badly shut up ourselves, and could get no proper communications for want of cavalry. Our officers did nothing but swear about your corps for keeping away when they would have been so useful."

"But how did you get to know at last?"

"Through a big n.i.g.g.e.r dressed up in two white ostrich-feathers, a bit of skin, and an a.s.sagai and shield for walking-stick and cloak. He brought the news, and as soon as the General had proved him a bit, two foot-regiments, ours and 'Yallow Terror Tories,' were sent off to make a forced march. That black-Joeboy he called himself-brought us up within striking distance, and then he went off to warn them in that old ruin that we were coming, so that they might be ready to copyrate with us."

"But didn't they suspect that the black might be going to lead you into a trap?"

"At first, sir; but when he took our young lieutenant and some of our fellows as scouts, with orders to shoot him on the slightest sign of treachery, and he showed us where the Boers lay in the plain, and where we could take possession of a kopje on to which our men could march and act quite unseen, and where we could have defended ourselves against ten times our number, we knew it was all right."

"And you got there unseen?" said Denham.

"That's right, sir; and then the Colonel in command of both lots let this Crystal Minstrel go to warn the cavalry."

"He has done his work cleverly, Sergeant, or our corps could not have worked with you so well."

"That's right again, sir. I quite took to that chap, Joeboy, as he called himself; but it's a pity he's so jolly black."

I had been listening quietly while all this talk went on; but, with a heavy and fast-increasing feeling of depression, I could restrain myself no longer, and exclaimed, "Oh Denham, suppose the poor fellow's killed!"

"What, sir!" cried the Sergeant cheerily. "Killed? Who's to kill a chap like that on a dark night? n.o.body could see where to hit. Besides, he goes through gra.s.s and bushes and rocks like a short, thick boa-constructor. He'll turn up all right. Hurrah! Hear that?"

We could hear, distinctly enough, repeated bugle-calls and the frantic cheering of our men. Our little forces had gained a complete victory, scattering the enemy in all directions, the morning light showing the terrible destruction caused by our onslaught.

Chapter Forty Seven.

A Clear Sky.

The rising sun showed that the enemy had disappeared; but ample stores had been secured for those who had so long suffered severe privations.

"Val," said Denham, "we must ride with our troop this week."

"Of course," I said cheerfully; but I had my doubts. Some time later, after we had met our comrades again, we had a long visit from the Colonel.

"Look here, young fellows," he said; "you're both invalids and cripples, so I'll wait till you're well before I have an inquiry into your conduct in leaving the fort without leave. I'm too busy now, and you are both too weak; but it will wait a bit. This matter must be thoroughly investigated."

"He'll never say another word about it, Val," prophesied Denham.

He never did.

Immediately after our interview with our Colonel, Denham and I lay in our wagon-ours by right of conquest-with the doctor looking at our injuries in evident perplexity.

"I never saw such a pair of scamps," he said. "Why, if every man behaved in the same way the life of a regimental surgeon wouldn't be worth living. Just as if I hadn't enough to attend to. Always in trouble."

"Don't bully us, doctor," said Denham, "we're both in such pain."

"Of course you are, my dear boys; so I'm going to have this wagon made into a sick-room for you."

"Into a what?" cried Denham. "Nonsense; we want to join the ranks again to-morrow."

"I suppose so," said the doctor fiercely; "but-you-will-not. Your wrists are bad enough, but look at your legs."

"Bah! Hideous!" cried Denham. "Who wants to look at them?"

"Then your head's not healed. Now, my dear boys, experience has told me that in this country very slight injuries develop into terrible ulcers and other blood-poisoning troubles. That renegade beast you tell me about is to answer for your limbs being in a very bad condition, and it will take all I know to set them right."

"But, doctor, I wouldn't have cared if they were good honest wounds."

"All wounds are wounds, sir, and injuries are injuries, to a surgeon. Frankly, neither of you must put a foot to the ground for weeks."

"Oh doctor!" we exclaimed together.