The Kopje Garrison Part 50

d.i.c.kenson nodded, but said nothing, only stood fingering a box of matches in his pocket and watching the major hurrying down the enc.u.mbered slope of the kopje to join the men awaiting the order to march.

"Sentries on the top coming down, sir," growled the sergeant; and d.i.c.kenson nodded again, turning to watch the two men running actively along and leaping from stone to stone, till they were pretty close to the drawn-up force, when the bugle rang out, the voices of the officers were heard, and the retiring party went off at a good swinging march.

d.i.c.kenson watched them for a few minutes without a word, while the sergeant stood with his rifle grounded and his hands resting upon the muzzle, perfectly calm and soldierly, patiently waiting for his orders, just as if he and the sergeant were to follow as a sort of rear-guard instead of to fulfil about as dangerous a task as could fall to the lot of a man, knowing too, as he did, that the enemy had been signalled as advancing-a body of men armed with the most deadly and far-reaching rifles of modern times.

"About time now, sergeant," said d.i.c.kenson coolly.

"Yes, sir; 'bout right now, I should think."

"I want them to have a fair start first," continued d.i.c.kenson; "and I can't help feeling a little uneasy about the enemy's wounded, for there will be an awful explosion."

"Oh, they'll be all right, sir. Make 'em jump, perhaps, and think they're going to be swept away."

"I wish they were farther off," said d.i.c.kenson; and then he uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n as he started aside, an example followed by the sergeant, who chuckled a little as he exclaimed:

"Wish 'em farther off, sir? So do I."

For, following directly one after the other, two shots were fired from the shelter where the wounded Boers had been carefully laid in safety, a couple of them having evidently retained their rifles, laying them under cover till they could find an opportunity to use them.

"That's nice and friendly, James," said d.i.c.kenson coolly. "Forward!-under cover."

"I feel ashamed to run, sir," said the sergeant fiercely.

"Look sharp!" cried d.i.c.kenson, for two more bullets whistled by them. "I don't like bolting, but it seems too bad to be shot down by the men we have been getting into safety."

"And fidgeted about, sir," said the sergeant grimly. "I wish you'd give me orders to chance it and go back and give those blackguards one apiece with their own rifles. It must have been them the captain meant when he was letting go about cowards and curs."

"Very likely, poor fellow!" said d.i.c.kenson, marching coolly on till they were covered from the Boers' fire. "There, they may fire away now to their hearts' content," he continued, as he halted at the end of the prepared wagons. "Wind's just right-eh?"

"Beautiful, sir; and as soon as the blaze begins to make it hot you'll find the breeze'll grow stiffer. It's a great pity, though."

"Yes; I wish we had all this at Groenfontein."

"So do I, sir; but wis.h.i.+ng's no good. I meant, though, it's a pity it isn't dark. We should have a splendid blaze."

"We shall have a splendid cloud of black smoke, sergeant," said d.i.c.kenson, taking out his box of matches. "Ready?"

"Ready, sir," replied the sergeant, and each held his match-box as low down in the paraffin-barrel as the saturated hay would permit, struck a match, and had to drop it at once and start back, for there was a flash of the evaporating gas, followed by a puff of brownish-black, evil-odoured smoke, which floated upward directly.

"Bah! Horrible!" cried d.i.c.kenson, coughing. "My word, sergeant! there's not much doubt about the Boers' camp blazing."

"Serve 'em right, sir, for using such nasty, common, dangerous paraffin. Here comes the wind, sir: what did I say?"

For the soft breeze came with a heavier puff, which made the forked tongues of flame plunging up amongst the thick smoke begin to roar, and in a very few seconds the fire was rus.h.i.+ng through one of the tilted wagons as if it were a huge horizontal chimney.

"Did you get singed, sergeant?"

"No, sir. It just felt a bit hot. Hullo! what's that?"

For a horrible shrieking and yelling arose from the direction of the wounded Boers.

"The crippled men," said d.i.c.kenson. "They're afraid they are going to be burned to death. We ought to go and shout to them that there's nothing to fear."

"Yes, sir, it would be nice and kind," cried the sergeant sarcastically; "only if we tried they wouldn't let us-they'd shoot us down before we were half-way there."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said d.i.c.kenson, who stared almost in wonder at the terrific rate at which the fire was roaring up and sweeping along, threatening, as wagon after wagon caught, to cover the kopje with flame.

"Perhaps, sir," said the sergeant, with a grim smile, "it would be a comfort to the poor fellows' nerves if we sent up the ammunition-wagons now."

"Whether it would or not, sergeant, we must be sharp and do it, or with these flakes of fire floating about we shall not dare to go near our fuse."

"That's what I'm thinking, sir," said the sergeant.

"Forward, then;" and the pair went on at the double to the spot where the train was laid, the fuses being some distance from the ammunition-wagons, and on lower ground sheltered by great stones.

The next minute the pair were down on one knee sheltering their match-boxes from the wind behind a big rock, with the train well in view, for those who laid it had not scrupled to use an abundance of powder.

"I did not reckon about this wind," said d.i.c.kenson. "As fast as one of us strikes a light it will be blown out."

"That's right, sir."

"And we shall never get the fuse started."

"We must try, sir."

"Yes," said d.i.c.kenson. "Here, it must be one man's job to fire the train; the explosion will send off the next wagon."

"And no mistake, sir. We ought to have had a lantern to light the fuse at. But you get lower down, sir, and I'll set off the whole box of matches I've got here, chuck it into the train, and drop behind this big stone."

"That seems to be the only way to get it done," replied d.i.c.kenson.

"Yes, I'm sure of it, sir," said the sergeant.

"All right, then; run down and get behind that piece of rock. I'll do it directly."

"No, no, sir; let me do it," pleaded the sergeant.

"'Tention!" roared d.i.c.kenson. "Quick! No time to lose. Off at once."

The sergeant's lips parted as if he were about to say something, but d.i.c.kenson gave him a stern look and pointed downward towards the stone, when discipline ruled, and the man doubled away to it, grumbling and growling till he was lying down panting as if he were out of breath.

"I could have done it better myself," he said hoa.r.s.ely; and then, "Oh, poor lad, poor lad! If-if-"

There was a sharp crack, followed by a pause filled up by the shrieking and yelling of the wounded Boers. Then the sergeant felt that he must raise his head and see how matters were going on; but he refrained, for there was a peculiar hissing noise. d.i.c.kenson had taken about twenty matches out of the box he carried, held them ready, and ignoring the fuse, he struck the bundle vigorously, stretched out his hand, which was almost licked by the flash of flame, and applied it to the thickly-laid train.

For a few moments there was no result, the wind nearly blowing out the blazing splints; but just as the young man was hesitating about getting out more matches-phitt! There was a flash as the powder caught and the flame began to run in its zigzag course right along the ground towards the nearest ammunition-wagon.

Turning sharply, d.i.c.kenson laid his hands upon a block of loose stone, vaulted over it, and dropped flat upon his face, conscious the while of the piteous cries of the wounded men.