"Well, then, we will work round to you. And now we must be off. You understand, Mynheer Van Heerden!"

"Ja, kaptyn."

"That's all right," and away goes Claverton, jumps on his horse, which is held ready by the faithful Sam, while the Boer leaders make their way back to get their men under arms; still a little hazy, perhaps, as to the plan of operations; but trusting with characteristic phlegm, that _det sal als recht kom_.

The camp is placed on an open bit of ground forming the summit of a small eminence, and commanding a good wide sweep all round. It is shut in, however, as to view, save on one side, and it is from this side that they are able to lay their plans. Far away--at least two hours' ride-- is a bold spur, where rises conspicuous a cliff of considerable alt.i.tude; its brow, crowned by a row of stiff euphorbia trees, whose straight stems and plumed heads stand out from the soft profusion of the surrounding forest. At the foot of this cliff is the defile by which the enemy is expected to pa.s.s; and, to reach it, at least three hours of rough scramble along the bushy valleys branching out in every direction, will be necessary.

In an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time all is ready, and the _veldt_ is alive with hors.e.m.e.n, hastening to make their way to the scene of operations. Opposite--across the ravine--the Dutch troop, about three hundred men, is hurrying forward; while beyond them some eight hundred Fingoes, marching in four columns, advance no less rapidly, chanting their war-song in a deep ba.s.s, and the sun gleams upon the gun-barrels and a.s.segai blades; and, now and again, the tinkle of a bit and the neigh of a horse is heard as the expedition moves on.

It is the middle of the forenoon, and not a cloud is in the heavens to break the endless blue, and the heat is to be felt. As yet there is no sign of life. The other column has long been out of sight, and now carefully Jim's troop moves forward, expecting every moment to get touch of the enemy, while nearer and nearer rises the lofty krantz which is to be the rallying-point. No one speaks; all are on the _qui vive_; but nothing disturbs the stillness of the deep valley into which they have been constrained to dip down in order to conceal the march as much as possible.

Suddenly, from the bush in front, breaks forth a puff of smoke, followed by another and another, till a regular line of fire bars their progress.

The horses start and swerve, terrified by the detonation, as the bullets come whizzing about their riders' ears with a horribly near and suggestive "sing." One volley in return--for as yet they can see no one--and the order is given to seek cover, for, crack! crack! crack! on every side now the jets of flame are belching forth from the thick green bush, and it is evident that the enemy is in strong force. But he has caught a Tartar. Cool and self-possessed to a man, Brathwaite's Horse are but waiting their opportunity, and ere long they begin to catch glimpses of the Kafirs, dodging in and out among the trees. Then the game becomes two-sided, as the experienced frontiersmen, with many a deft snap-shot, begin to "drop" their concealed enemy--so quickly, indeed, that in a quarter of an hour the latter begins to draw off.

Still the fire is unusually warm on their front, and the sagacious Jim strongly suspects a deliberate intention to hold him in check there while the main body gets safely off with its spoil, as intimated.

"Claverton," he says, coming quickly to his lieutenant's side. "Take about thirty men, and advance upon those fellows in front, while we keep them occupied here. Try and get round them and take them in the flank; knock over as many as ever you can, and drive the rest on."

Claverton hastens to obey, and, with his contingent, makes his way swiftly and stealthily by a circuit so as, if possible, to take the enemy in the rear. Meanwhile the fusillade goes on, and the smoke hangs in a cloud above the valley as the concealed forces, each under cover, pepper away, but with a caution that, on the part of the Kafirs, is somewhat unwonted.

And now the "special service" band has reached the ridge some five hundred yards above and beyond the main body, and its leader begins to think about doubling upon the wily foe. A smothered chuckle at his elbow makes him turn. Below, not six yards off, lying on his stomach on a rock, is a huge red Kafir. His piece is c.o.c.ked, and he is worming himself into a good position for a safe and sure shot; and the chuckle proceeds from Hicks, who stands with his revolver aimed well between the greasy shoulders of the rec.u.mbent barbarian. But the quick ears of the savage detect the sound. In a twinkling he wriggles round, but, before he has time to spring up, his "Youw!" of consternation is cut short in his throat as Hicks' revolver cracks, and the ball pa.s.sing fair through the Kafir's ribs, the huge carcase rolls from its perch, falling with a crash into the bush below.

"Sold again?" exclaims Hicks, smothering a shout of laughter. "Not this journey, my boy. I never saw anything more comic than that bird's face when he looked round."

Three more Kafirs spring up at their very feet, but before they can lift an a.s.segai even, or at any rate use one, they are shot dead, almost point-blank. And now several dark heads may be detected peering in the direction of this new danger, but this is just what our friends have been expecting, and, crack! crack! crack! go their trusty breech-loaders as they advance down through the scrub, driving the enemy before them.

But the said enemy is in full retreat. He has had enough, and yonder over the ridge, dark bodies are running, by twos and threes, while the fire of the victorious whites still tells as it is kept constantly playing upon the discomfited savages. Then Jim gives the order to mount and push forward. No time is to be lost after this delay, or the plan will fall through. His troop has suffered by two men wounded and the loss of three horses, the dismounted riders making their way as best they can by holding on to the stirrup of a comrade. Nothing, indeed, could have been worse than the enemy's marksmanship.

They make their way out of the hollow without any further opposition and are upon the heights overlooking the pa.s.s. Have they been misinformed, or are they too soon? Jim hardly thinks they are too late. It may be that the Kafirs in charge of the cattle, hearing the firing, have driven these off in another direction. Suddenly an exclamation breaks from his lips.

"Oh-h-h! Good Lord! Where on earth _are_ those d.a.m.ned Dutchmen?"

For he has been descending all this time, and is standing looking up the pa.s.s. There is the great cliff, towering many hundreds of feet above, and there about two miles off the whole defile is filled with a dense ma.s.s of cattle, a cloud of dust arising before them as their drivers urge them along with many a shout which is borne to the ears of the disappointed pursuers. Even the very spoors at their feet were tantalisingly fresh.

"Perhaps they've gone round up above," suggested Naylor.

"Maybe. In the meantime we'll go down and lie in wait so as to hem the n.i.g.g.e.rs in when they turn. Van Heerden's sure to have got his men round too far."

An outpost was left on the rising ground, and the rest descended. They were about to take up a position on either side of the road and wait; when, without any warning, a tremendous volley is poured into them; and all the bush is alive with dark shapes--hundreds and hundreds of them-- darting from cover to cover, yelling and brandishing their a.s.segais as they advance nearer and nearer, while a constant fire is kept up by those in front.

So sudden and unlooked-for is this attack, that Jim's men are for the moment completely taken by surprise. It is, moreover, unparalleled in its fierceness and determination, for the Kafirs press boldly forward, waving their weapons. Some of them even may be seen snapping off their a.s.segais in preparation for a charge.

"Steady, Allen, old boy. That's a new kind of a tuning-fork," remarks Claverton, as a bit of pot-leg whistles between his ear and that of him addressed, with a vicious whirr. "No use ducking when it's past, you know. Hallo!"

His attention is drawn by two men struggling, a white man and a Kafir.

The savage, pinned against the very base of the cliff described, is vainly striving to free his right wrist from his antagonist's grasp, so as to use the a.s.segai which, held flat against the rock, is useless to him; the white man, finding it all he can do to hold on to the other's throat; and thus the two are struggling, each unable to use his weapon.

Then, in response to a half-choked shout from the Kafir, several of his countrymen are seen rushing through the bush to his a.s.sistance, when lo, a quick movement, something gleams; the white man throws his adversary off, and with a couple of bounds is at Claverton's side panting, as, crouching behind a bush to dodge several shots aimed at him, he wipes the blade of his sheath-knife on the ground.

"Ripped--the beggar--up."

"Deuce you did! Well done, Gough. A smart bit of work that," rejoins his chief.

And now the great cliff thunders back in tremendous echoes the volley-firing. Two of Brathwaite's men have fallen, shot dead, another has been overwhelmed in a sudden rush of the fierce foe, who becomes more and more daring, and a.s.segaied in a moment. Several are slightly wounded; and Jim, seeing that no time is to be lost if they are to avoid being surrounded, gives the word to fall back on higher ground, to a point where his practised eye detects better facilities for defence, and for holding out until a.s.sistance comes. Suddenly somebody exclaims:

"Any one seen Jack Armitage?" A chill of blank consternation goes through all who hear it.

"Eh, what? Where's Jack? Where's Jack?" echo several voices.

"He was close to me when first we began to retire," says Claverton. "He may be there yet. Come along, boys, we'll pick him up, wherever he is.

Who'll volunteer? We can't leave poor Jack to be chopped up by these devils?" Even as he speaks there floats through his brain the echo of those soft, entreating words whispered in the hour of parting: "_You will not run any unnecessary risks, even for other people. Your life belongs to me now, love_!" And side by side with the tender thought, runs the consciousness that he cannot leave a comrade to a certain and cruel death.

"I will." "I will." "The devil's in it but we'll find Jack."

"Come on, straight at 'em," were some of the cries in answer to his appeal, and among the confusion and smoke--for the firing was pretty brisk--Claverton and a dozen others, gliding rapidly from bush to bush, revolver in hand, made their way to where the missing man was last seen.

And in doing so they went further and further into the most deadly peril, and separated themselves more and more from their retreating comrades; but still they went.

A couple of hundred yards further, and it seemed as if they had even got behind the enemy's lines. Two or three Kafirs had sprung up before them, but these had been immediately shot down, and, amid the confusion and firing on all sides, they succeeded in breaking through almost un.o.bserved.

"Here's where I saw him last," said Claverton. "Jack! Jack!" he called in a low, penetrating tone. "Where are you, man?"

No answer.

A double report, and a couple of bullets came singing over their heads.

"Half-a-dozen of you fellows keep an eye on our rear," said Claverton.

"We shall have them down upon us directly. But we won't give up yet."

"Hallo?" cried a faint voice some twenty yards off.

"There he is, by all that's blue!" exclaimed several. "Hooray?"

There he was sure enough. Lying under a huge, overhanging yellow-wood tree--several of which grew along the course of the small stream flowing through the valley--half hidden away in the long gra.s.s, whither he had crawled in the hope of escaping notice, lay poor Jack Armitage, his right foot shattered by a ball, while another had penetrated his side.

His only hope was to be allowed to die in peace, though more than once as he lay there, alone with the anguish of his wounds, forgotten and left behind in that wild forest, he had thought of calling out to the savages to come and put an end to him. But hope would again rea.s.sert itself, and his own natural buoyancy of spirits, combined with the thought of his young wife, whom he would yet live to return to, made him resolve to cling on at all costs, as he put it. Poor Jack!

The rescuers were none too soon, for just then a Kafir, attracted by his faint shout, glided from behind the trunk of a tree, a.s.segai uplifted; but a couple of revolver bullets, well aimed, stretched him beside his intended victim.

"Jack, old man, are you badly hit?" asked Claverton, with a thrill of concern in his voice, bending over him and grasping his hand.

"Infernally," was the reply in a weak voice; and the poor fellow's face was bathed in moisture from the agonies he was undergoing.

"Well, cheer up, old chap; we'll get you out of this, and you'll live to have the laugh of John Kafir yet."

"Ping, ping!" A bullet embedded itself in the trunk of the tree, while a second whistled perilously close to the speaker's ear.

"The devil! There's some one among those fellows who can shoot. Lie close, every one. There's fairly good cover here, and we'll pepper them a few."

"Hallo, Allen; you there?" said the wounded man. "Shake hands, old chap. You're a good sort to come down here and look after a fellow."

Allen looked a little sheepish. He might be a duffer in some respects, but he was not deficient in pluck, and had been one of the first to volunteer in the search.