Chapter 11. The Colonel's Plans

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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE COLONEL'S PLANS

The effects of the night alarm were dying out, for there was plenty to take the attention of the defenders of Groenfontein every day--days full of expectancy--for a Boer attack might take place at any moment, while every now and then some one at an outpost had a narrow escape; and two men were hit by long-range bullets, fired perhaps a mile away by some prowling Boer who elevated his piece and fired on chance at the buildings in the village.

"Sniping," the men termed it, and all efforts to suppress this cowardly way of carrying on the war were vain, for in most cases there was no chance of making out from what scrap of cover the shots had been despatched; while it became evident that, from sheer malignity, the undisciplined members of the enemy's force would crawl in the darkness to some clump of rocks, or into some ditch-like donga, or behind one of the many ant-hills, and lie there invisible, firing as he saw a chance, and only leaving it when the darkness came on again.

The rations issued grew poorer; but the men only laughed and chaffed, ridiculing one another and finding nicknames for them.

Colour-Sergeant James, the sturdy non-commissioned officer, the back of whose head still showed the blasting effects of the explosion which he had shared with Lennox, was known as the "Fat Boy," on account of the general shrinking that had gone on in his person till he seemed to be all bone and sinew, covered with a very brown skin; another man came to be known as the "Greyhound;" while Captain Roby's favourite corporal, an unpleasant-looking fellow, much disliked by Lennox and Dickenson for his smooth, servile ways, had grown so hollow-cheeked that he was always spoken of as the "Lantern," after being so dubbed by the joker of his company.

In fact, the men generally had been brought down to attenuation by the scarcity of their food; while their khaki uniforms were not uniform in the least, the men for the most part looking, as Bob Dickenson put it, "like scarecrows in their Sunday clothes."

"The lads are getting terribly thin, sergeant," said Lennox one day, after the men had been dismissed from parade.

"Oh, I don't know, sir," said the sergeant; "a bit fine, sir, but in magnificent condition. Look at the colour of them--regular good warm tan."

"But the Boers haven't tanned them, all the same, sergeant," put in Dickenson, who was listening.

"No, sir, and never will," said the sergeant proudly. "As to their being thin, that's nothing; they're as healthy as can be. A soldier don't want to be carrying a lot of unnecessary meat about with him; and as to fat, it only makes 'em short-winded. See how they can go at the double now, and come up smiling. They're all right, sir, and we can feed 'em up again fast enough when the work's done. Beg pardon, sir: any likelihood of a reinforcement soon?"

"You know just as much as I do, sergeant," said Lennox. "Our orders are to hold this place, and we've got to hold it. Some day I suppose the general will send and fetch us out; till then we shall have to do our best."

"Yes, sir, that's right; but I do wish the enemy would give us a real good chance of showing them what our lads are made of."

But the Boers had had too many of what Dickenson called "smacks in the face" during their open attacks, and seemed disposed now to give starvation a chance of doing the work for them. At least, that was the young officer's openly expressed opinion.

"But they're making a great mistake, Drew, my lad," he said one evening as he and his friend sat chatting together. "An Englishman takes a great deal of starving before he'll give in. They're only making the boys savage, and they'll reap the consequences one day. My word, though, what a blessing a good spring of water is!"

As he spoke he picked up the tin can standing upon the end of a flour-barrel that formed their table, had a good hearty drink, set it down again, and replaced his pipe between his lips. "I used to think that bitter beer was the only thing a man could drink with his pipe; but _tlat_! how good and fresh and cool this water is, and how the Boers must wish they had the run of it!"

"It helps us to set them at defiance," said Lennox. "They might well call the place 'Green Fountain.' It might be made a lovely spot if it wasn't for the Boer."

"Yes, I suppose anything would grow here in the heat and moisture. I suppose the spring comes gurgling up somewhere in the middle of the kopje."

"It must," said Lennox, "and then makes its way amongst the stones to spread out below there and flow on to the river."

"Seems rum, though," said Dickenson. "I never did understand why water should shoot up here at the highest part of a flat country. It ought to be found low down in the holes. What makes it shoot up?"

"The weight and pressure of the country round, I suppose," said Lennox. "Hullo! What does that mean?"

"Business," cried Dickenson, as both the young men sprang to their feet and seized belts and weapons. For the report of a rifle was followed by others, coming apparently from the direction of the kopje near to where the stream came rushing out between two rugged natural walls of piled-up stone. Every one was on the alert directly, fully in the expectation that the enemy we're about to act in non-accordance with their regular custom and make an attack in the dark.

But the firing ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun; and after a time the alarm was traced back to a sentry who had been on duty at the lower part of the west side of the kopje, near by where the water gushed up at the foot of a huge mass of granite, where the most precipitous part stretched upward half-way to the summit.

Captain Roby's company held the kopje that night, and consequently both of the young officers were present at the tracing of the cause of the alarm, when it seemed to have been proved that it was only false.

The sentry who fired was examined by Captain Roby, and was certain that he had not given any alarm without cause, for he said he had heard steps as of more than one person approaching him as if going to the water.

"And you challenged?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir; and then all was quite quiet for a few moments, but I heard the sounds again as if they were coming closer to me, and I fired, and there was a rush of feet."

"A party of baboons going down to drink," said the captain contemptuously.

"There have been no baboons seen since we occupied the kopje," said Lennox.

"Perhaps not; but when they were driven off they must have gone somewhere, and what more likely than that they should come back to the spot where they could get water?--Come, my man, you felt frightened, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," said the sentry; "I was a bit scared."

"And you think now that all you heard was a party of those big dog-like monkeys--eh?"

"No, sir; it was men, and only three or four."

"Ha! How do you know?"

"Because the baboons go on all fours, sir; and I could make out one man standing up as he ran off along the rocky bit of path."

"What! You saw one man?"

"Yes, sir."

"But it was dark?"

"I could see the figure of a man for a moment just against the sky, sir."

"But mightn't that have been one of the apes reared up for the time?"

"Oh no, sir," said the sentry. "I shouldn't mistake a monkey for a man; and besides, they don't wear boots."

"Ah! and do you say these people who came near you wore boots?"

"Well, it sounded like it, sir, for when I fired I could hear the leather squeak."

"Humph!" grunted Captain Roby; and Dickenson, who was full now of his adventure in what seemed to have been near the same place, spoke out:

"I think there's something in what he says:" and he related his own experience. "At the time, I was so occupied in getting back for something to eat that I forgot all about the matter after dinner. But now this has occurred I begin to feel that the chirping sounds I heard really were signals, and that I did hear voices talking together afterwards."

"Then it must have been Kaffirs sneaking there for water after it was dark."

"But the footsteps?" said Lennox.

"Well, Kaffirs have feet."

"But not boots," said Lennox quietly.

"I beg your pardon," said the captain warmly; "I could pick out a dozen of the black hangers-on who have boots which they have obtained from the men."

Just then an orderly arrived from the colonel to know what Captain Roby had made out respecting the alarm; and upon a full report being given, the colonel sent orders for Captain Roby to march his company to the foot of the kopje, surround it, and thoroughly search it from top to bottom.

This search was commenced as soon as it was light, the men having been led to the foot and stationed before day broke; and the arduous task seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed by the men, who, as they slowly ascended the rough cone, naturally closed in so that the prospect of missing any one hiding among the cracks and chasms grew less and less. To the soldiers it was like a game of hide-and-seek held upon a gigantic scale, and they shouted to one another in the excitement of the hunt. Every now and then a rift would be found which promised to be the entrance to a cavern such as abounded in many of the granite and ironstone piles; but in every instance, after the men had plunged in boldly with bayonets fixed, they found the holes empty and were brought up directly, not even finding a sign of the place having been occupied.

The officers advanced from four different places, but the incurvation of the mount, and its being only practicable for climbing here and there, caused Lennox and Dickenson to approach more rapidly than the others; hence it happened that by the time they were half-way to the top they were within talking distance, as they kept on trying to keep their men in line, and at the end of another hundred feet they were side by side, panting and hot from their efforts, and ready to give one another a hand or a leg up in difficult parts.

"Well, Drew, old man," cried Dickenson as they both paused to wipe their faces and give their men time to breathe, "nice job this! I suppose the old man meant it to give us an appetite for breakfast."

Lennox laughed.

"He ought to have given us a task to take away the sharpness; but it's all right. I shouldn't be at all surprised if we started two or three Kaffirs from some hole higher up."

"Why, what would they be doing there?"

"Keeping their gregarious home tidy for their tribe to come back to when we are gone."

"Well, plenty do live in these kopjes. Remember about that one up in the Matabele country that was full of cracks and passages, and had four or five caves one above another?"

"Oh yes, I remember it."

"This might be the same some day, but I believe it's all a reservoir of water inside."

"Or else solid, for there seems to be no door. We may find a way in yet; I shouldn't wonder."

"I should," said Dickenson; "and I believe after all now that the chirping I heard was made by some rat-like creature."

"The more I think about it," continued Lennox, "the more I feel ready to believe that two or three of the Kaffirs are here, and in communication with the Boers."

"What! acting as spies?"

Lennox nodded; he was still too short of breath to talk much.

"Well, now you come to talk like that, it does appear possible, for the Boers do seem to have known pretty well how and when to attack us."

"Exactly."

"Of course! Why, there was the night when they were bringing up the big gun. They must have had guides."

"Oh, if you come to that, they may have people with them who used to live here."

"Yes, they may have," said Dickenson; "but it isn't likely. Depend upon it, there are two or three Kaffirs somewhere about here, and we have them to thank for some of our misfortunes. If we do catch them they'll have it pretty sharp."

"Not they," said Lennox. "We shall treat them as prisoners of war."

"As spies," said Dickenson, "and you know their lot."

"Psh! The colonel would not shoot a set of poor ignorant blacks."

"Browns--browns, browns."

"For a reward they'd fight for us just as they may have been fighting for the Boers."

"But we don't want them to fight for us. If they'd try and feed us they'd be doing some good.--Yes, all right. Ahoy there!" shouted the speaker, for a hail came from higher up. "Forward, my lads; forward!"

This last to the men on either side, who had snapped at the chance of a few minutes' rest, after the fashion displayed by their officers.

The climbing advance went on again till the level patch at the top, which had been turned into a gun-platform, was reached, and the men halted in the bright sunshine, to group about the huge gun after they had been ordered to break off. They rested, enjoying the cool breeze and gazing eagerly about in search of enemies, seeing, however, nothing but the surrounding prospect all looking bright and peaceful in the morning sun.

"'Brayvo! Werry pretty!' as Sam Weller would have said," cried Dickenson as Captain Roby closed the field-glass he had been using and joined his junior officers, frowning and looking impatient.

"Look here, Mr Dickenson," he said sourly, "a little of that commonplace, slangy quotation may be tolerated sometimes after the mess dinner if it's witty--mind, I say if it's witty--but such language as this seems to me quite out of place, especially if spoken in the hearing of the men when on service."

"Yes, of course," replied Dickenson shortly; "but I took care that they were out of hearing."

"They are not out of hearing, sir," retorted Roby; "as Mr Lennox here will bear me witness, Sergeant James and Corporal May must have heard every word."

He turned to Lennox with a questioning look and waited for him to, as he termed it, bear witness.

"Well, really, I don't think they could have heard," said Lennox.

"What!" cried Roby indignantly. "Here, sergeant, you heard--you, Corporal May, you heard what Mr Dickenson said?"

"Yes, sir, everything," replied the corporal smartly.

"And you, sergeant?"

"I heard Mr Dickenson saying something, sir," replied the sergeant bluntly, "but I was looking along the gun here and did not catch a word."

"You mean you would not hear," cried the captain angrily.--"Look here, Mr Dickenson, don't let it occur again."

He jerked at the case of his field-glass and took it out again, then crossed to the other end of the roughly-made gun-platform and directed the telescope upon some object near the horizon.

The two subalterns exchanged glances.

"Mr Lennox--Mr Dickenson," said the latter in a low tone. "Poor old chap, he's regularly upset. Well, no wonder; wants his breakfast. I'm just as grumpy underneath for the same reason, but I keep it down--with my belt. Look here, Drew; go and prescribe for him. Tell him to buckle himself up a couple of holes tighter and he'll feel all the better."

"Hold your tongue! He isn't well, and he's put out about this mare's-nest hunt."

"Well, yes; we haven't done much good."

"Not a bit. How do you feel?"

"As if I should like to kick that time-serving corporal."

"What! the 'Lantern'? Yes: brute! Anything to curry favour with his master."

"Look here, don't forget. Mind I give old James two ounces of the best tobacco first time I have any--which I'm afraid will not be just yet."

"Mare's-nest," said Lennox thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose it is a mare's-nest. Nobody could have been about here without being caught by the sentries."

"I don't know," said Dickenson, looking about him; "these niggers are very clever at hiding and sneaking about. I felt certain after what I had experienced that we should find a way into a passage and some caves. Here, 'tention; the general's coming back."

Captain Roby returned, replacing his glass, and gave a few sharp orders for the men to take their places once more and commence the descent, searching every crevice among the rocks as they went down.

This was carefully done, and the men reached the foot of the granite pile, formed up, and marched back to the market-place, where they were dismissed to their meagre breakfast, while the captain sought the colonel's quarters without a word to his subordinates.

"The doctor says fasting's very good for a man; but one man's meat, or want of it, is another man's poison, Drew, my boy, and starvation does not agree with Roby."

"No," replied Lennox. "I've noticed that he has been a bit queer for a week past."

"Say a fortnight, and I'll agree with you. Why, he has been like a bear with a sore head. Never said a civil word to any one, and I've heard him bully the poor boys shamefully."

"Yes; it is a pity, too, for they've behaved splendidly."

"Right you are. I always liked them, but I'm quite proud of the poor fellows now. I say though, hang it all! talking must be bad on an empty stomach. Lead on, my lord; the banquet waits."

"Banquet!" said Lennox, with a sigh.

"Yes. Oh, how tired I am of that mealie pap! It puts me in mind of Brahma fowls, and that maddens me."

"Why?"

"Because I used to keep some of the great, feather-breeched, lumbering things to send to poultry shows. Some one told me that Indian com was a fine thing for them--made their plumage bright and gave them bone; so I ordered a lot."

"And did it answer the purpose?"

"Answer the purpose?" cried Dickenson indignantly. "Why, the beggars picked it up grain by grain and put it down again. Pampered Sybarites! Then the cock cocked his eye up at me and said, '_Tuck, tuck, tuck! Caro, waro, ware_!' which being interpreted from the Chick-chuck language which is alone spoken by the gallinaceous tribe, means, 'None of your larks: yellow pebbles for food? Not to-day, thankye!'"

"I say, Bob, what a boy you do keep!" said Lennox.

"The sweet youthfulness of my nature, lad. But, as I was telling you, the beggars wouldn't touch it, and I had to get our cook to boil it soft. Our mealie pap has just the same smell. That makes me think of being a real boy with my poultry pen: the Brahmas make me think of the young cockerels who did not feather well for show and were condemned to go to pot--that is to say, to the kitchen; and _that_ brings up their legs and wings peppered and salted before broiling for breakfast, finished off with a sprinkle of Worcester sauce, and then--oh, luscious! oh, tender juiciness! Oh! hold me up, old man, or I shall faint. There, sniff! Can't you smell? Yes, of course; mealie pap in a tin, and--Oh, here's the colonel eating his. Roby will have to give his report now."

"Good--morning, gentlemen," said the colonel. "Just in time for breakfast. Well, what have you found?"

He had hardly asked the question before Captain Roby hurried in, to go up to his side at once and make his report.

"I'm sorry; but no more than I expected.--Here," he said, turning to his servant, after making a brave show of eating the meagre tin of Indian corn porridge; "bring me a little cocoa."

"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, bending over him from behind; "very sorry, but last of the cocoa was finished yesterday."

"Humph! Yes; I had forgotten," said the colonel, and he took up his spoon and began to play with the porridge remaining in his tin.

The breakfast was soon ended, and the officers made a show of chatting cheerfully together, while the colonel sat tapping the edge of his tin softly with his canteen spoon, looking thoughtfully into the bottom of the cleaned-out vessel the while. Then every eye was turned to him as he straightened himself up, for they judged that he was going to make some communication. They were right, for he threw down his spoon on the clothless board and said suddenly:

"Well, gentlemen, the French proverb says, _Il faut manger_."

"Yes," said the doctor, with a grim smile; "but it is necessary to have something in the manger."

"Quite so, doctor," said the colonel, with a good-humoured nod; "so I may as well open a discussion on the position at once, and tell you that while Roby and his company have been searching the kopje the major and I have formed ourselves into a committee of ways and means, and gone round the stores.--Tell them, major."

The gentleman addressed shrugged his shoulders.

"There is so little to tell," he replied; "only that with about quarter-rations we can hold out for another week. That's all."

"Not all," said the colonel. "We have the horses as a last resource; but they are life to us in another way, and must be left till the very end."

Dead silence reigned, every man looking down at the rough table.

"Well, gentlemen," continued the colonel, "after giving every thought to our position I come to the conclusion that at all hazards I must hold this place."

"Hear, hear!" came from every lip.

"We are keeping three commandos fully employed, and that is something."

There was a sound like a murmur of satisfaction.

"I might determine," said the colonel, "to try and reach Rudolfsberg, and somehow or another we would cut our way there; but our losses would be terrible, and we should reach safety--some of us--with the feeling that we had not done our duty by holding Groenfontein at all hazards."

"That's quite right," said the major as his chief paused, and a murmur of assent followed the major's words.

"Then, gentlemen, that brings me back again to the French proverb. We must eat, so the first thing to do is to decide on which direction a raid is to be made: that means scouting, and the discovery of the nearest Boer store of provisions, with sheep and cattle. We are quite alone here, without the possibility of my words being heard, so I can speak out freely. Scouting parties must go out at once in the direction of each of the three commandos, and on the strength of their reports the expedition will be made."

"To-night?" said the major.

"Yes," replied the colonel. "Hush! Don't cheer! Let matters go on as if nothing fresh were on the way. We cannot afford to have our proceedings carried out of the lines by Kaffir spies." _

Read next: Chapter 12. The Boer Advance

Read previous: Chapter 10. Tracking The Wagons

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