Harley Greenoak's Charge Part 25

"Hi! Here! Hullo, Greenoak, here we are," sung out d.i.c.k Selmes.

"You're just in time, but we've bagged the two chiefs. Come along."

They started back to camp without delay. Just before reaching it, one of the four troopers, who was given to pessimism, remarked--

"Old Chambers'll get all the kudos for to-day's job. We shan't."

It may be said that in the event the speaker was wrong. The Commandant was far too wise and too just a man to allow a meritorious service to go unrecognised. In the event, too, it transpired that these four had performed a very meritorious service indeed, and all of them, except one man who left the Force, his time having expired, got promotion as soon as practicable.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE COMMANDANT'S JOKE.

"Hallo, Selmes, what's the row with you?" said Trooper Sketchley, suddenly noticing that d.i.c.k's face had gone rather white. "Confound it, you didn't get hit, did you?"

Harley Greenoak, who was riding a little way in front, keeping a watchful eye on the captive chiefs, instinctively reined in his horse, having just overheard. The movement annoyed d.i.c.k Selmes. It seemed to him to savour of leading-strings; and had not he borne part in two good fights--three, in fact, for this capture of the two chiefs was better than a fight. It was a bold dash and a fight combined.

"Oh, it's nothing," he answered, rather testily. "Something seemed to knock me during that last volley. I expect it was a spent pot-leg or splinter of rock. But it'll keep till we get back to camp."

"Where did it knock you?" said Greenoak.

"Here. Bridle arm. Rather ride with the right."

"All serene. But--just haul up your sleeve, if you can."

No fuss. No calling a halt. Just a plain injunction. Such was Harley Greenoak. d.i.c.k obeyed.

"You'll be all right, d.i.c.k," p.r.o.nounced Greenoak, after a brief scrutiny, during which he strove to conceal the anxiety he felt. "It's as you say, a spent pot-leg. But it has made a nasty jagged scratch all the same, and we'll get the sawbones at it soon as we're in. You may thank your stars it was a spent one, or you'd have had a broken arm for some time to come."

"Never mind. We've boned the chiefs," said d.i.c.k, delightedly. "That sweep Vunisa, he's the beggar who'd have cut my throat that night they tied me up in a bag. Jolly glad we've boned him. Bit of turning the tables there."

"We ought to enlist you, Selmes," said Sub-Inspector Mainwaring, who was in command of the body that had so opportunely come to the rescue.

"You're a tiger for pulling off anything out of the way."

"Well, I hope I'll go through some more jolly old sc.r.a.ps with you fellows," answered d.i.c.k. "The war seems to have begun in earnest now."

"Don't know. This may have broken the whole back of it. Eh, Greenoak?"

"May, or may not," answered the latter, who was not going to commit himself to an ordinary conversational opinion at that stage.

They were joined by the other half of the pursuit under Inspector Chambers. One man had been killed. A desperate savage, fairly cornered, had sprung like a wild-cat upon the unfortunate trooper and a.s.segaied him fair and square as he sat in his saddle, being himself, however, immediately shot. Three more were wounded with a.s.segai cuts.

But, all things considered, the Police had come off with flying colours, and all hands were in high spirits.

On the way, they picked up the wounded Kafir, Tolangubo, who had given the information which had led to the capture of the chiefs. He had proved useful enough already, and might prove so again, thought Inspector Chambers when the man expressed a desire to join the Police as a native detective. But, watching his opportunity, he besought Harley Greenoak to enjoin upon the four troopers on no account to let out that he had been instrumental in that, for in such event he could be of no use at all, as the vengeance of his countrymen would be certain to overtake him, and then--why, a dead man was more useless than a dead ox, since you could neither eat him nor use his skin--he added, somewhat humorously.

On reaching camp the two chiefs were lodged in the guard-hut, Jacob Snyman having been now released and allowed to return to duty. He had shown his good faith. The attack against which he had warned them had been made in real earnest, and now in the flush of victory, the would-have-been traitor found himself rather popular than otherwise.

All the same, a watchful eye was kept upon him. Vunisa and Pahlandhle accepted the position with sullen philosophy. They were told that they would be kept as hostages for the good behaviour of their people--an announcement which filled them with no exhilaration, remembering as they did, though keeping the knowledge to themselves, that the Gudhluka Reserve was a very Alsatia, and comprised plenty of turbulent spirits, whose allegiance to themselves was purely nominal. But there they were, and their rations were regular, and the Police were not stingy with tobacco; so the philosophy of the savage stood them in good stead: "Sufficient unto the day."

"Well, Greenoak. It seems to me we are making a real frontiersman of our friend here," said the Commandant, going on the while sorting out and otherwise arranging his "specimens," as calmly as though they had not spent the morning in defeating and thoroughly routing a few thousand of bloodthirsty savages. "Wounded too? Never mind, Selmes. Think what a lot of yarns you'll have to spin to the people at home."

"Oh, I don't mind that, Commandant. But--er--Blunt says it's a toss up whether I'll be able to take a hand in any more fights for a month or so. And by that time the war may be over."

"Hope so, I'm sure," was the dry reply. "Eh, Greenoak?"

The latter nodded.

For the Police surgeon--Dr Blunt--a tall, pleasant-mannered Irishman-- had examined and duly dressed d.i.c.k's wound, informing him that, although not serious, it was not a thing to play the fool with.

"You see, Selmes," he said, "you are such a rash, impetuous beggar. I suppose if some n.i.g.g.e.r were to sneak in to-night and tell you he knew where to capture old Kreli, you'd start out on the spot and try and do it. Well, let me remind you there's such a thing as blood-poisoning.

It's all right now, but if you get acting the a.s.s with this thing, open and running as it'll be for the next few days, why, there's no telling.

No, my boy. You'll have to wear your arm in a sling till I tell you to take it out. What then? Why, you'll only look the more interesting.

Anyway, it's only your left fin."

This was some consolation. For it enabled d.i.c.k to sit down and write a full, true, and particular account of the two battles and their sequel to Hazel Brandon, and, incidentally, to his father, to be sent when the Commandant should elect to send through despatches reporting recent affairs.

"What do you make of this beast, Greenoak?" went on the Commandant, as he extracted the last captured lizard specimen from the lethal pickle-bottle.

"Don't know. I'm not up in scientific natural history."

"Well, he's quite an uncommon variety. Shall have to look him up when I get back to my library."

Greenoak exchanged a comical look with d.i.c.k Selmes. The Commandant, for the moment, attached more importance to the capture of this miserable, uninviting little specimen of the lizard tribe, than he did to the stirring and momentous events of the last couple of days. And yet--were the alarm again to be given, no man in that camp would be more readily on the spot, the very personification of cool and calm collectedness.

There were other humours in the life of the camp which every now and then would come to the fore. One day a trooper, charged with trying to shoot himself with his carbine, was marched before the Commandant. The latter looked at him in a half-abstracted, lack-l.u.s.tre sort of way, then ordered him extra musketry practice--"for," he added, with characteristic dryness, "a man who can't hit himself at no yards isn't likely to be able to hit an enemy at so many."

Then Corporal Sandgate returned to the Kangala and reported for duty.

His foot was quite healed now, and all he asked for were a few chances of being even with the brutes who had tortured him.

"Well, the prime mover in it is here in the camp now, old chap," said d.i.c.k Selmes. "But you won't be able so much as to punch his head, for he's shot through the leg. Besides, I believe the old man's contemplating taking him on as a native 'tec." And he told the other how the Kafir had put them in the way of capturing the two chiefs.

"Well, you've been in luck's way, Selmes," said Sandgate, wistfully, "although you've got winged yourself. You've come in for a lot of hard, lively service, while I've been kicking up my heels rotting in hospital at Isiwa. Some fellows have all the luck. Mine, of course, is to be reduced, if not hoofed out of the Force."

"Bosh! Not a bit of it. Buck up, old chap! You're far too useful to the Force for that. Why, man, you did a splendid service. If I had been in your place I expect I'd have given away the whole show."

But Sandgate refused to be comforted. He had been found wanting when engaged upon service of vital importance. There was no getting behind that.

A few days later he was sent for by the Commandant. It happened that he and d.i.c.k were chatting together at the time.

"All up," he said resignedly. "Told you so."

The Commandant was seated in front of his hut. An express had just ridden in, and, together with Inspector Chambers, he was going through the correspondence. He looked up.

"Corporal Sandgate, yes," he said, as the other saluted in silence.

"Well, I can hardly call you that now. You are relieved of your rank."

"Yes, sir. I expected no less," answered the poor fellow, saluting again, and making as if to withdraw.