The Kopje Garrison Part 28

It might have been supposed that in his emergency-he would have called to d.i.c.kenson for help, but the fact was that his adversary so filled his thoughts that there was no room for his comrade's presence, and he struggled on, straining every muscle and nerve.

But, to repeat the previous a.s.sertion, he was completely overmatched by a desperate man; and, unless d.i.c.kenson could have interfered and saved him, Lennox's fate was to be thrown from the rocky ledge out into the black shadowy air, to fall heavily, crushed and broken, upon the stones below.

But fate favoured him at the last pinch, for as his enemy by sheer weight and pressure bore him back and then lifted him from the shelf preparatory to hurling him outward, Lennox suddenly gave up resisting, loosening his grasp so as to take fast hold round his enemy's neck, when the sudden cessation of resistance had the effect of throwing the latter off his balance just when he was very near the edge where he intended to plant his foot down and check his farther progress. The result was that he put his foot down a few inches too far, his heel pressing down upon the rock where his toes should have been, and before he could recover himself his foot was down over the side, while by a frantic wrench Lennox flung himself sidewise inward.

They fell sidewise upon the shelf, Lennox uppermost, his enemy half over the edge and gliding rapidly down, his weight drawing his adversary after him slowly, inch by inch, for the hitter's position debarred his making any successful effort to escape. For the enemy not only had him tightly clasped, but, feeling his disadvantage, had wrenched his face round so that he could savagely seize hold of the young officer's khaki jacket with his teeth. And there he hung on, doubtless intending to speak and declare that if he was to fall his enemy should share his fate. But no coherent words were uttered; nothing was to be made out but a savage growling as of some fierce wild beast.

The action took less time than the telling, and, fortunately for all, now was d.i.c.kenson's opportunity.

The darkness had prevented his seeing the whole of the varying phases of the struggle; but the latter part was plain enough, and fully grasping the position and the emergency of the case, he sprang upon the contending couple just at the right moment, adding his weight, which from his position of vantage completely checked the gradual gliding movement in which Lennox was being drawn onward to his death.

"Give up, you brute!" roared d.i.c.kenson now. "Surrender!"

For response the prostrate man, who was vainly striving to find foothold below the edge of the shelf, let go with one hand and quick as thought flung it over the speaker so that he got hold tightly by the tunic, growling fiercely the while.

"Yah! That's flesh!" roared d.i.c.kenson, and in his rage and pain he struck down heavily with his doubled fist. "You brute!" he cried. "Give up, or I'll shove you down."

The prisoner gave up struggling for a moment or two, and seemed to be trying to get a hold of some projecting stone.

"There," cried d.i.c.kenson, "let go. Give up; you're a prisoner. Leave off struggling, and I'll haul you back on to the shelf. It's no good to fight any more. That's right. You surrender, then? Mind, if you try any of your confounded Boer treachery I'll send a bullet through your skull."

Crack!

"Oh!"

The shot from a revolver, and a cry of pain from d.i.c.kenson, who at the same moment realised the fact that the prisoner's last movements had meant not giving up or getting a safer position on the ledge, but an effort to get at his revolver and fire at so close quarters that the condensed flame from the pistol's muzzle burned the young man's cheek, the bullet barely touching the skin as it flew off into s.p.a.ce.

"Beast!" cried d.i.c.kenson savagely, and he struck wildly at the revolver as it was fired again, and fortunately diverted the clumsy attempt at an aim, but at the expense of his knuckles, two of which were cut against the chambers of the revolver.

As he uttered the word the young officer was recalling the fact that this made two shots, and he felt that in all probability there were four more to come. His hand was busy as well as his head, for he struck out again and again in an effort to get hold of the pistol; but he could not prevent the firing of another shot, which struck the rock beside him with a loud pat.

"Ha!" cried d.i.c.kenson in a tone full of satisfaction; "got you!" For his efforts in the darkness had been at last rewarded by his fingers coming in contact with the barrel of the little weapon, which he clasped tightly and held on to, in spite of jerk and s.n.a.t.c.h, feeling the barrel heat as it was fired again, and again, and again, but with the muzzle forced upward so that the bullets flew harmlessly away.

"That's better," growled d.i.c.kenson. "Now, you spiteful savage, will you give up-will you surrender?"

A savage growling was the only answer.

"You brute!" muttered d.i.c.kenson. "'Pon my word, if it wasn't for poor old Drew I believe I should let you go over, and see how you liked that.-Here, Drew," he cried aloud, "how is it? What are you doing?"

"Holding his left hand down. He has got hold of my revolver."

"Bless him for a beauty! Can you stop him?"

"I don't know yet; I'm so awkwardly situated. Can you keep us from going over?"

"Oh yes, I can do that. Here, I've got at my six-shooter now; hold still, and I'll put something through his head."

"No, no; we must take him alive," cried Lennox.

"It's all very fine, but he's going to take us dead. Better let me cripple him. Shall I light a match?"

"No, no. I've got tight hold of his wrist now, so that he can't use my revolver. Ha! Look out!"

"I shall have to shoot him," cried d.i.c.kenson; for, foiled in his effort to get hold of the fresh weapon, the man began to struggle again fiercely, heaving himself up and wrenching himself to right and left in a way that threatened to result in the whole party going over into the black gulf below.

Lennox uttered another warning cry.

"Take care?" growled d.i.c.kenson. "Who's to take care in the dark? Here, tell the brute in Dutch that if he doesn't give up I'll send a bullet through his head. He doesn't seem to understand plain English."

"Yes, he does, for he spoke in English just now."

This was too true, for just then the prisoner suddenly yelled out, "Dirck! Dirck! Help! The cursed rooineks have got me down."

"Oho! Then there are more than one of you, my beauty!" cried d.i.c.kenson. "Now then, this is a gag; hold still or I'll pull the trigger."

There was a clinking sound caused by the rattling of the desperate prisoner's teeth against the barrel of the pistol which d.i.c.kenson thrust into his mouth just as he was about to speak. But he wrenched his head round and began to struggle again so desperately that Lennox's temper got the upper hand and he began to grow merciless to a degree that tempted him to bid his comrade fire.

"Look here," roared d.i.c.kenson at the same moment, "I've had enough of this, my fine fellow. Surrender, or I'll fire without mercy."

"Ha!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lennox in a sigh of relief, for those six shots had not been fired in vain. The prisoner had unconsciously summoned a.s.sistance to complete his capture, and Lennox's sigh had been produced by the sight of a flash of light and the sound of hurrying feet, the two sergeants with their lanterns reaching the spot first, closely followed by the officers and men, who gazed down in wonder at the human knot composed of the wondrously tied up three lying at the edge of the precipice.

"Come on," shouted d.i.c.kenson. "We've caught the ghost. Don't let him go."

"Here, hold these, some one," cried Sergeant James, and as soon as he had got rid of his lantern he made fast, as a sailor would say, to the prisoner and held on; while, to use his words, his mate pulled out the prisoner's stings, for he had three-two revolvers (one of course discharged) and a keen-bladed sheath-knife, something like an American bowie.

Five minutes later the light of the held-up lanterns fell upon a fierce-looking, much bruised and battered, black-bearded Boer, lying upon the rocky shelf, tied hand and foot, his face so smeared and disfigured by blood that it acted like a mask.

"Carry him down at once," said Captain Roby; "he is evidently badly wounded."

"Not he," growled d.i.c.kenson savagely. "He hurt me more than I hurt him. He used pistol; I only used fist and punched him in the nose."

Sergeant James smiled grimly, and drawing a roll of bandage from his wallet, tore off a bit and wiped the blood from the prisoner's face.

"Hullo!" he cried.-"Hooray, Captain Roby, sir! This is our Boer friend who tried to blow us up."

Lennox stopped forward eagerly, and signed for the lantern to be lowered.

"Yes," he cried wonderingly; "that is the man."

"And no mistake," said d.i.c.kenson. "Come, I call this a good catch."

The other officers looked down at the dark eyes scowling up at them.

"Yes," he growled fiercely, "I am the man; and I'll do it yet."

"Perhaps your precious game may be stopped now, my good fellow," said Captain Roby meaningly.

"Yes," said Captain Edwards sternly. "You were treated well and generously the first time; this time you may find that the English officers can be stern as well as generous to a beaten enemy.-Well, Captain Roby," he continued, "there was no mistake, you see, about the alarm."