The Kopje Garrison Part 5

"No; only about half."

"Then why did you hold out your hand?"

"Shake! In case," said Drew laconically.

"Sha'n't! I'm not going to look upon the business as having come to that pitch yet. Look out; we ought to see some of them soon."

For shots were beginning to come about them to supplement those sent from across the river, but so ill directed that it was evident that their fresh a.s.sailants were guessing at their position below the perpendicular cliff-like bank.

"This won't hurt us," said d.i.c.kenson coolly.

"No; but some of them will be having their heads over the edge up there directly."

"They can't while their friends are firing from the other side as they are. But when they do look down it will be rather awkward for the first two."

"Here, quick, look out, Bob!" cried Lennox, for the firing from the farther bank suddenly ceased, and the rustling and cracking of twigs somewhere overhead told that the fresh danger was very near.

d.i.c.kenson's reply to his companion's order was to place himself quickly with his back to the rocks that had sheltered him, sitting with his rifle pointing upward.

Drew took the same position, and none too soon; for, following closely upon the rustling sound, the makers of which were still invisible, a couple of shots were fired down at them, the bullets striking the stones just over their heads.

No reply was made, for the enemy were quite hidden, and with beating hearts the two young Englishmen waited in horrible suspense for their chance-one which never came; for directly after quite a volley was fired, apparently from some distance back from the edge, and, to Drew's horror, a big burly Boer seemed to leap down from the top of the cliff to seize them for prisoners.

That was his first surmise. The next moment he knew the truth, for with a heavy thud the man struck the stones, falling sidewise, and then turned over upon his face, to lie with his limbs quivering slightly for a few moments before he lay perfectly still.

"Hurrah!" shouted d.i.c.kenson, springing to his feet.

"Down! down!" roared Drew, s.n.a.t.c.hing at his brother officer's arm.

But the need for caution was at an end, for volley after volley came rolling down into the river-bed, and proof of help being at hand was given by the rapid firing of the Boers on the other side of the river, a duel on a large scale being kept up for some ten minutes before the firing on the far side ceased.

"Whopped!" shouted d.i.c.kenson excitedly. "Look! look!" he cried, pointing down the river and across at an open spot where some dozens of the enemy were streaming away, galloping as hard as their little Bechuana ponies could go, but not escaping scatheless, four saddles being emptied by the fire from the cliff above the watchers' heads.

"I wonder whether the other men who crossed have escaped," said Drew thoughtfully, as he took his whistle from his cross-belt and held it ready to blow.

"Take it for granted they have, my son," said d.i.c.kenson. "They really are clever at that sort of thing. I say, I'm glad I didn't go through that performance."

"What performance?" said Drew wonderingly.

"Hand-shaking in that sentimental way."

"It wouldn't have done you any harm."

"Perhaps not; but, I say, don't stand fiddling about with that whistle. Blow, man, blow, and let the lads know where we are. I don't want to be shot now by our own men: too degrading, that."

Drew placed the whistle to his lips, and the shrill, penetrating, chirruping call rang out, while d.i.c.kenson stood looking upward towards the top of the bank.

Then Robin he put him his horn to his mouth And a blast he did loudly blow, While quick at the call his merry men all Came tripping along in a row!

He half-hummed, half-sang the old lines in a pleasant baritone voice, and then listened.

"Don't see many merry men tripping-poor, hungry beggars! Blow again, Drew, old man. Why don't they stop firing?"

Drew blew again, and, to the intense satisfaction of both, the whistle was answered from among the trees above.

"Ahoy there! Where are you?"

"Here! here!" shouted the young officers together.

"Cease firing!" came now in a familiar voice, and the shots died out.

"It's Roby," said Drew eagerly.

"Never liked him so well before," said d.i.c.kenson, laughing. "Ahoy! We're coming up."

"Oh, there you are!" came from above, and a good, manly, sun-tanned face was thrust over the edge of the cliff. "All right?"

"Yes! Yes!" was the reply.

"That's better than I expected, lads," cried the officer. "Does one good. I thought we were avenging your death. Well,"-the speaker's face expanded into a broad grin-"it's getting on towards dinner-time. What have you caught?"

"Tartars!" growled Drew shortly.

"Yes," said d.i.c.kenson; "a regular mess."

Chapter Three.

On the Qui Vive.

"So it seems," said the officer above. "But hullo, you! You're wounded."

"Pooh! stuff!" said d.i.c.kenson shortly; "bit picked out of my ear."

"But,"-began the head of the rescue party.

"Let it be," said d.i.c.kenson snappishly as he pressed his hand to the injured place. "If I don't howl about it, I'm sure you needn't."

"Very well, old fellow, I will not. Ugh! what's that down there-that fellow dead?"

The officer leaned out as far as he could so as to get a good look at the motionless figure at the foot of the cliff.

Drew glanced at the figure too, and nodded his head.

"Who shot him-you or d.i.c.kenson?"

"Neither of us," said Drew gravely. "It was the work of one of your fellows; he fell from up there. But what about the party who crossed by the ford?"