Tween Snow and Fire Part 18

The wily foe was not going to show himself.

But the incident threw a new light upon the state of affairs, and a very lurid one it was. Several had run out of ammunition, but had refrained from saying so lest the fact, becoming known, should discourage the others. Now it was of no use disguising matters further. There were barely fifty rounds left among the whole patrol--that is to say, something less than a round and a half per man. And they were still hemmed in by hundreds of the enemy, closely hemmed in, too, as the recent fatality proved, and it still wanted a good many hours till dark.

Small wonder that a very gloomy expression rested upon almost every countenance. The position was almost as bad as it could possibly be.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE TABLES TURNED AGAIN.

Suddenly a tremendous volley crashed forth from the hillside on their left front, followed immediately by another on the right. For a moment the men looked at each other in silence, and the expression of gloomy determination hitherto depicted on their countenances gave way to one of animated and half-incredulous relief.

For no sound of hostile volley was that. No. Help was at hand.

Already they could see the Kafirs gliding from bush to bush in groups, hastening to make good their retreat, thoroughly disconcerted by this new and disastrous surprise.

"Whoop!--Hooray! Yoicks forward!" shouted the beleaguered combatants, each man giving his particular form of cheer, varying from savage war-cry to view halloo. They were wild with excitement, not only by reason of their unlooked for deliverance from almost certain ma.s.sacre, but also on account of being in a position to turn the tables upon their skulking foe.

Then came the crack--crack--crack--of the rifles of the new arrivals, who advanced rapidly, yet not entirely without caution, through the bush, picking off the retreating Kafirs as these showed themselves in fleeing from cover to cover. And above the crackle of the dropping shots rang out the wild notes of a bugle, villainously played. A roar of laughter went up from our friends.

"Brathwaite's Horse for a fiver!" cried Hoste. "That's Jack Armitage's post-horn. I know its infamous old bray--And--there's Brathwaite himself."

"Any of you fellows hurt?" sung out the latter, a fine, stalwart frontiersman, who, with several of his men, rode down upon the group.

The remainder were spread out in skirmishing line on either side, the irregular rattle of their fire showing that they were still busy peppering the enemy in sight.

"One man killed," answered Shelton. "It's Parr, poor chap."

"So? Well, fall in with us and come on. We haven't done with Jack Kafir yet."

"Can't. We're all but cleaned out of ammunition."

"So?" said Brathwaite again. "We've turned up none too soon then.

Fortunately we've got plenty."

A hurried levy was made upon the cartridge belts of the new arrivals, and thus reinforced in every sense of the word, the Kaffrarian men, keen to avenge their comrade and retrieve their position, fell in with their rescuers, and the whole force moved rapidly forward in pursuit of the enemy.

But the latter had hastened to make himself scarce. With characteristic celerity, the wily savages seemed to have melted into earth or air. If thirty-five whites--a mere handful--had given them about as much fighting as they could stomach, they were not going to stand against that handful multiplied by three.

"There they go!" suddenly shouted someone, pointing to the almost bare brow of a hill about half a mile away, over which a number of Kafirs were swarming in full retreat. A tremendous fusillade was opened upon this point, but with slight effect. The distance was too great.

"We must get the cattle," cried Brathwaite, Shelton having hurriedly given him the particulars. "And we must race for them, too, for they'll have got a good start. They are sure to take them right away to that big bit of forest which runs down to the coast. Once there they are safe as far as we are concerned. I know this strip of country."

Armitage, the man who owned the bugle, and who was known to most there present either personally or by name, as a licenced wag and an incorrigible practical joker, was instructed to blow a call of a.s.sembly.

This he did, in hideous and discordant fashion, and the men collected.

Briefly Brathwaite explained the situation.

"Beyond this first rise there's another," he said. "Beyond, that there's five miles of open _veldt_; then the strip of forest I was mentioning. If we don't get the cattle in the open we shan't get them at all. Forward!"

No second command was needed. The whole force pressed eagerly forward.

At length, after a toilsome ride, during which not an enemy was seen, except here and there the body of a dead one lying in a pool of blood, they crested the brow of the second ridge. A great shout arose.

"There they are! Now then, boys--cut 'em out!"

Away in front, about five miles distant, lay a long, dark line of forest. Half-way between this and themselves an immense herd of cattle was streaming across the _veldt_. The drivers, about two score in number, were at first seen to redouble their efforts to urge on the animals. Then, at sight of the white hors.e.m.e.n bearing down upon them with a wild cheer, they incontinently abandoned their charge and fled for dear life.

"Never mind the n.i.g.g.e.rs," sang out Brathwaite, as one or two of his men tried to rein in for a snap shot at the flying Kafirs. "Never mind them. Head the cattle round for all you know. If once they get into the bush we may lose any number of them." And spurring into a gallop he circled round before the excited herd, followed by his whole troop. The foremost beasts stopped short, throwing up their heads with many a snort and bellow of bewilderment and terror, while the bulk of the herd pressed on. For some minutes the clashing of horns and frenzied bellowing, the clouds of dust, and the excited shouts of the hors.e.m.e.n made up an indescribable scene of din and confusion. Many of the animals, rolled on the ground by the plunging, swaying ma.s.s, were trampled or gored to death by their bewildered companions. At last the tumultuous excitement began to subside, and the animals, with heaving flanks and rolling eyes, stood huddled together as if awaiting the pleasure of their new drivers.

"Steady! Don't rush them," shouted Brathwaite. "Head them away quietly for the open for all you know, and don't let them break through."

More than one comical scene was enacted as the line of hors.e.m.e.n, extended so as to gradually work the herd away from the bush, drove their charge forward. Now and then a cow, with a calf at her side, or haply missing her progeny, would turn and furiously charge the line of hors.e.m.e.n, causing an abrupt scatter, and in one or two instances the utter and ignominious flight of the doughty warrior singled out, who perchance was only too thankful to lay her out with a revolver shot in the nick of time to save himself and his steed, or both, from being ripped up or impaled by those vicious horns. But the best fun of all was afforded by a huge old black-and-white bull.

Jack Armitage, we have said, was bursting with animal spirits; consequently when the aforesaid quadruped took it into his ma.s.sive cranium to suddenly break away from the herd and start off on his own account at right angles thereto, it followed, as a matter of course, that Armitage, being nearest to him, should spur away in pursuit. The bull's vicious little eyes began to roll wickedly, and from a trot he broke into a wild gallop. Then madcap Jack, madder than ever with the excitement of the day's events, was seen to range his horse alongside, and bending over in the saddle and placing his bugle almost against the animal's ear he blew a hideous and terrific blast. There was a ferocious bellow--down went the brute's head, and, lo, in a twinkling horse and man were rolling on the ground, and the bull galloped away unimpeded.

Roars of laughter arose from the discomfited one's comrades, which did not decrease as they watched the savage brute in the distance charging one of the retreating Kafirs, who seemed almost as much disconcerted by this new enemy as he had been by the missiles of his human foes.

Finally both disappeared within the bush.

"Hurt, old man?" cried Hoste, riding up as the fallen one found his feet again, and stood rubbing his shoulder and looking rather dazed with the shock. The horse had already struggled up. Fortunately for it, the bull's horns were short and blunt, and it seemed none the worse for the tumble.

"No. Had a devil of a shake-up, though. A bottle of doctor's stuff's a fool to it."

"Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast--sings the poet. In this case it hadn't," said Eustace. "Those ancients must have been awful liars. Eh, Armitage?"

"You bet. Hallo! Where's my old post-horn?" he went on, looking round for his instrument, which he discovered about a dozen yards off, unharmed, save for a slight dent. Putting it to his lips he blew a frightful fanfare.

"I say, Jack, you'll have the old bull back again," said Brathwaite.

"Better shut up. He's dead nuts on that old trumpet of yours. And now, the farther we get into the open, the better. We mustn't camp anywhere that'll give Johnny Kafir a chance of cutting out the cattle again."

"We've done a good day's work, anyhow," said Shelton. "This isn't half a bad haul--and it's fairly decent stock for Kafir stock."

"Kafir stock be d.a.m.ned!" growled Carhayes. "Whatever is decent among it is stolen stock, you bet. Not much sleep for any of us to-night, boys.

We shall mostly all have to keep our eyes skinned, if we are to take in this lot safe. Whoever of us are not on horse guard will be on cattle guard."

They were joined by the few men who had remained behind to guard the corpse of their slain comrade. This was conveyed in a sort of litter, improvised of blankets and slung between two quiet horses; and now to the dash and excitement of the conflict and pursuit, there succeeded a subdued quiet, almost a gloom, by reason of the presence of the dead man in their midst. Still--it was the fortune of war.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

UNDER ORDERS FOR HOME.

The Kaffrarian Rangers were ordered home.

To be strictly accurate, that redoubtable corps had applied to be withdrawn. There was not enough to do to render it worth the while of the men who composed it--men mostly with a substantial stake in the country--to remain any longer wasting their time in a series of fruitless patrols on the off-chance of an occasional very long distance shot at a stray Gcaleka scout or two; for the enemy no longer attempted to meet them in battle. He had suffered severely, both in men and possessions, and there were those who declared that he had had nearly enough of it. The Frontier Armed and Mounted Police and, if necessary, the regular troops now stationed along the border, would be sufficient to cope with any further disturbance; so most of the volunteer forces applied to be withdrawn.

They had been several weeks in the _veldt_--several weeks absent from their farms and businesses. They had rendered excellent service; had, in fact, const.i.tuted the very backbone of the offensive operations. It was only fair, now that there remained no more to be done, to allow them to return. Brathwaite's Horse had already withdrawn, so had most of the mounted corps. The Kaffrarian Rangers were nearly the last.

The men were in excellent health and spirits. They had lost one of their number--the poor young fellow who had met his fate with the patrol under Shelton, and had been buried near where he fell--a few had received wounds, none of these being, however, of a very serious nature.

But they had left their mark upon the enemy, and were returning, withal, in possession of a large number of the latter's cattle. Yet they had a grievance, or fancied they had.

They had not nearly enough fighting. The combined plan of the campaign had not been carried out according to their liking. The enemy had been suffered to escape just at the very moment when it was within their power to inflict upon him a decisive and crushing blow. There had been too much of the old womanly element among those intrusted with the conduct of affairs. In a word, the whole business had been bungled.