Charge! Part 43

"Of course. But how do we know that they won't all bolt back for the Boers' camp? They're Boer bullocks, you know. Oh! I'll never forgive the Colonel if he loses all that beef."

"The poor brutes will only make for the nearest patches of gra.s.s and bush," I said, "and their guard will take care to head them back if they seem disposed to stray."

"But is any one on the lookout with a gla.s.s on the wall?"

"Sure to be," I said.

"I'm not so sure," cried Denham impatiently. "Why, there must be going on for six hundred sirloins there, without counting other t.i.t-bits; and if the bullocks are taken care of, each one is a sort of walking safe full of prime meat for the troops."

"There-look!" I said; "they're settling down to graze, and the guard is spreading out between them and the open veldt."

"Yes, I see," said Denham anxiously; "but I hope they'll take great care. That job ought to be ours."

But it was not, and I did not want it. I said so, too.

"That's bosh," replied Denham. "You say so because you're not hungry; but just wait till you are, and then you'll be as fidgety about the bullocks as I am."

"But you're not hungry now," I said laughingly.

"Well, no-not at present; but I shall be soon. I haven't made up the balance of two days' loss yet. Ugh! only fancy-grilled cat's-meat for a commissioned officer in Her Majesty's service! Ugh! To think that I was compelled by sheer hunger to eat horse! I'd swear off all flesh-feeding for good if it wasn't for that beef."

He burst into a hearty fit of laughing then, and we rode on, chatting about our position and the fact that the Boers seemed to consider they could not do better for their side than keep us shut up as we were till we surrendered as prisoners of war.

"That's it, evidently," said Denham. "They hate us horribly, for we'd been doing a lot of mischief amongst them before you joined, as well as ever since."

"Shall we be able to cut our way through before long?" I asked.

"I don't know, old fellow," he replied.

"We ought to," I said, "because we could be of so much use to the General's troops."

"Well, I don't know so much about that," said Denham as we neared the fortified gateway, with its curtain of empty wagons. "I'm beginning to think that we're being a great deal of help to the General here."

"How?" I asked wonderingly. "Our corps is completely useless."

"Oh no, it isn't, my little man. Look here; I'm of opinion that we're surrounded by quite a couple of thousand mounted men."

"Yes, perhaps there are," I said, "at a guess."

"Well, isn't that being of use to the British General? We're keeping these fellows fully occupied, so that they can't be hara.s.sing his flanks and rear with all this mob of sharpshooters, who know well how to use their rifles."

"I say," I cried, "what's the matter yonder?"

"Nothing! Where?"

"Look at the baboons right at the far end of the kopje. They're racing about in a wonderful state of excitement."

"Smell cooking, perhaps," said Denham. "Here, Sergeant," he continued, calling up Briggs, "take Mr Moray and a couple of men. Canter round yonder and see if you can make anything out. Scout. Perhaps the brutes can see the Boers advancing."

In another minute we were cantering round the ragged outskirts of the great pile of stones, where they came right down to the plain, among which were plenty of gra.s.sy and verdant patches, little gorges and paths up amongst the tumbled-together blocks; and as we rode along we startled apes by the dozen from where they were feeding, and sent them shrieking and chattering menacingly, as they rushed up to the higher parts.

It was away at the extreme end where the main body of the curious-looking, half-dog, half-human creatures were gathered, all in motion, and evidently much exercised by something below them on the side farthest from where we approached.

"They're playing some game, Mr Moray," said the Sergeant, speaking quite respectfully to me, and, as I thought, slightly emphasising the "Mister," which sounded strange. "Tell you what it is: one of the young ones has tumbled into a gully and broken his pretty little self."

"Give the order to unsling rifles, Sergeant," I said quietly, "and approach with caution."

"Eh? What! You don't think there's an ambuscade-do you?"

"No," I said as I watched the actions of the apes keenly; "but I do think there's a lion lying up somewhere."

"A lion!"

"Yes; one of the brutes that were feeding on the dead horses in the night. He has made for the shelter yonder, and is in hiding."

"And the monkeys have found him, and are mobbing the beggar now he's sleeping off his supper?"

"That's it, I think," I replied.

"Then let's get his skin if we can. Steady, all, and don't fire till you get a good chance."

We checked our horses so as to approach at a walk, the Sergeant sending me off a few yards to his left, and the other men opening out to the right.

I fully expected to see the baboons go scurrying off as we approached; but, on the contrary, they grew more excited as, with rifle ready and Sandho's rein upon his neck, I picked my way alongside the others in and out among the great blocks of stone at the foot of the kopje, where there was ample s.p.a.ce for a couple of score of lions to conceal themselves. But I felt sure that as soon as we came near enough, and after sneaking cautiously along for some distance, the one we sought would suddenly break cover and bound off away across the veldt.

Wherever I came to a bare patch of the sandy earth I scanned narrowly in search of "pug," as hunting-men call the traces; but I could not make out a single footprint. There were those of the baboons by the dozen, and the hoof-tracks of horses, probably those of some of our men when they made a circuit of the rocky hillock. Every hoof-mark was made by horses going in the direction we were; but still no sign of a lion.

"Keep a sharp lookout," said the Sergeant softly; and I remember thinking his words unnecessary, seeing that every one was keenly on the alert.

"Seems to me a mare's-nest," said the Sergeant to me dryly, as he c.o.c.ked his eye and pointed down at the footprints.

"No," I said; "the baboons have got something below them on the other side, or they wouldn't keep on like that. Ah! look out!"

"What can you see?" cried the Sergeant.

"Marks of blood on the ground here. The lion has caught one of the baboons, I expect, and he's devouring it over yonder under where the rest are dancing about and chattering."

"And enough to make them," said the Sergeant between his teeth. "Shoot the beggar if you can, sir."

"I'll try," I replied; and Sandho advanced cautiously, with the cover getting more dense, till, just as I was separated from the Sergeant by a few big blocks of ironstone, from out of whose c.h.i.n.ks grew plenty of brushwood, Sandho stopped short, threw up his muzzle, and neighed.

"What is it, old fellow?" I said softly, as I debated whether I should dismount so as to make sure of my shot. "There, go on."

The horse took two steps forward, and then stopped again.

"Here's something, Sergeant," I said. "Push on round the end of that block and you'll see too."

"Lion?"