Chapter 14. A Strange Find

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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. A STRANGE FIND.

It seemed to Drew Lennox that he was staring helplessly at the dark shadowy shape for quite a minute--but it was only a matter of a few seconds--before, snatching his left hand from his companion's grasp, he let his revolver drop to the full extent of its lanyard, and sprang open-handed at the man.

The movement warned the latter of his danger, and turning sharply round from where he was watching the direction taken by the detachment, he made a desperate effort to catch the young officer by the throat.

But Lennox was springing at him, and the weight of his impact drove the man back for a yard or two; but he recovered himself, got a grip, and then a desperate struggle commenced at the edge of the rugged shelf of rock just where the kopje went down for some fifty feet almost perpendicularly, while a pile of heaped-up fragments which had lodged after falling from above stood out ready to receive the unfortunate who fell.

Neither spoke as they gripped, but stood panting heavily as if gathering breath for the terrible struggle that threatened death to one if not both combatants. They were not well matched. Lennox seemed to be slightly the taller, but he was young, slight, and not fully knit; while his adversary was broad-shouldered, and possessed limbs that were heavily coated with hardened muscles, so that in spite of the weight brought to bear in the young officer's sprint he recovered himself where a weaker man must have been driven backward to the ground.

Dickenson sprang forward to his comrade's help, but stopped short as he realised that in that narrow space there was only room for a struggle between two, and by interfering he would be more likely to hinder his friend than help. Hence it was that he stood waiting for his opportunity, listening to the hoarse breathing of the wrestlers and watching the faintly seen struggle--for capture on the one part, for ridding himself of his adversary by pushing him off the shelf on the other.

In a very few moments Lennox had recognised the fact that he was overmatched; but this only roused the stubborn bull-dog nature of the young Englishman, and setting his teeth hard, he brought to bear every feint and manoeuvre he had learnt at his old Devon school, where wrestling was popular, and in the struggles of the football field.

But all in vain: his adversary was far too heavy for him, and, to his rage and discomfiture, in spite of all his efforts he found one great arm tightening about his ribs with crushing pressure, while the man was bending down to lift him from the shelf, evidently to hurl him off into space.

The position was desperate, and in its brief moments Lennox did all that was in his power, tightening his grasp in the desperate resolve that if so savage a plan was carried out he would not go alone.

It might have been supposed that in his emergency-he would have called to Dickenson for help, but the fact was that his adversary so filled his thoughts that there was no room for his comrade's presence, and he struggled on, straining every muscle and nerve.

But, to repeat the previous assertion, he was completely overmatched by a desperate man; and, unless Dickenson could have interfered and saved him, Lennox's fate was to be thrown from the rocky ledge out into the black shadowy air, to fall heavily, crushed and broken, upon the stones below.

But fate favoured him at the last pinch, for as his enemy by sheer weight and pressure bore him back and then lifted him from the shelf preparatory to hurling him outward, Lennox suddenly gave up resisting, loosening his grasp so as to take fast hold round his enemy's neck, when the sudden cessation of resistance had the effect of throwing the latter off his balance just when he was very near the edge where he intended to plant his foot down and check his farther progress. The result was that he put his foot down a few inches too far, his heel pressing down upon the rock where his toes should have been, and before he could recover himself his foot was down over the side, while by a frantic wrench Lennox flung himself sidewise inward.

They fell sidewise upon the shelf, Lennox uppermost, his enemy half over the edge and gliding rapidly down, his weight drawing his adversary after him slowly, inch by inch, for the hitter's position debarred his making any successful effort to escape. For the enemy not only had him tightly clasped, but, feeling his disadvantage, had wrenched his face round so that he could savagely seize hold of the young officer's khaki jacket with his teeth. And there he hung on, doubtless intending to speak and declare that if he was to fall his enemy should share his fate. But no coherent words were uttered; nothing was to be made out but a savage growling as of some fierce wild beast.

The action took less time than the telling, and, fortunately for all, now was Dickenson's opportunity.

The darkness had prevented his seeing the whole of the varying phases of the struggle; but the latter part was plain enough, and fully grasping the position and the emergency of the case, he sprang upon the contending couple just at the right moment, adding his weight, which from his position of vantage completely checked the gradual gliding movement in which Lennox was being drawn onward to his death.

"Give up, you brute!" roared Dickenson now. "Surrender!"

For response the prostrate man, who was vainly striving to find foothold below the edge of the shelf, let go with one hand and quick as thought flung it over the speaker so that he got hold tightly by the tunic, growling fiercely the while.

"Yah! That's flesh!" roared Dickenson, and in his rage and pain he struck down heavily with his doubled fist. "You brute!" he cried. "Give up, or I'll shove you down."

The prisoner gave up struggling for a moment or two, and seemed to be trying to get a hold of some projecting stone.

"There," cried Dickenson, "let go. Give up; you're a prisoner. Leave off struggling, and I'll haul you back on to the shelf. It's no good to fight any more. That's right. You surrender, then? Mind, if you try any of your confounded Boer treachery I'll send a bullet through your skull."

_Crack_!

"Oh!"

The shot from a revolver, and a cry of pain from Dickenson, who at the same moment realised the fact that the prisoner's last movements had meant not giving up or getting a safer position on the ledge, but an effort to get at his revolver and fire at so close quarters that the condensed flame from the pistol's muzzle burned the young man's cheek, the bullet barely touching the skin as it flew off into space.

"Beast!" cried Dickenson savagely, and he struck wildly at the revolver as it was fired again, and fortunately diverted the clumsy attempt at an aim, but at the expense of his knuckles, two of which were cut against the chambers of the revolver.

As he uttered the word the young officer was recalling the fact that this made two shots, and he felt that in all probability there were four more to come. His hand was busy as well as his head, for he struck out again and again in an effort to get hold of the pistol; but he could not prevent the firing of another shot, which struck the rock beside him with a loud pat.

"Ha!" cried Dickenson in a tone full of satisfaction; "got you!" For his efforts in the darkness had been at last rewarded by his fingers coming in contact with the barrel of the little weapon, which he clasped tightly and held on to, in spite of jerk and snatch, feeling the barrel heat as it was fired again, and again, and again, but with the muzzle forced upward so that the bullets flew harmlessly away.

"That's better," growled Dickenson. "Now, you spiteful savage, will you give up--will you surrender?"

A savage growling was the only answer.

"You brute!" muttered Dickenson. "'Pon my word, if it wasn't for poor old Drew I believe I should let you go over, and see how you liked that.--Here, Drew," he cried aloud, "how is it? What are you doing?"

"Holding his left hand down. He has got hold of my revolver."

"Bless him for a beauty! Can you stop him?"

"I don't know yet; I'm so awkwardly situated. Can you keep us from going over?"

"Oh yes, I can do that. Here, I've got at my six-shooter now; hold still, and I'll put something through his head."

"No, no; we must take him alive," cried Lennox.

"It's all very fine, but he's going to take us dead. Better let me cripple him. Shall I light a match?"

"No, no. I've got tight hold of his wrist now, so that he can't use my revolver. Ha! Look out!"

"I shall have to shoot him," cried Dickenson; for, foiled in his effort to get hold of the fresh weapon, the man began to struggle again fiercely, heaving himself up and wrenching himself to right and left in a way that threatened to result in the whole party going over into the black gulf below.

Lennox uttered another warning cry.

"Take care?" growled Dickenson. "Who's to take care in the dark? Here, tell the brute in Dutch that if he doesn't give up I'll send a bullet through his head. He doesn't seem to understand plain English."

"Yes, he does, for he spoke in English just now."

This was too true, for just then the prisoner suddenly yelled out, "Dirck! Dirck! Help! The cursed rooineks have got me down."

"Oho! Then there are more than one of you, my beauty!" cried Dickenson. "Now then, this is a gag; hold still or I'll pull the trigger."

There was a clinking sound caused by the rattling of the desperate prisoner's teeth against the barrel of the pistol which Dickenson thrust into his mouth just as he was about to speak. But he wrenched his head round and began to struggle again so desperately that Lennox's temper got the upper hand and he began to grow merciless to a degree that tempted him to bid his comrade fire.

"Look here," roared Dickenson at the same moment, "I've had enough of this, my fine fellow. Surrender, or I'll fire without mercy."

"Ha!" ejaculated Lennox in a sigh of relief, for those six shots had not been fired in vain. The prisoner had unconsciously summoned assistance to complete his capture, and Lennox's sigh had been produced by the sight of a flash of light and the sound of hurrying feet, the two sergeants with their lanterns reaching the spot first, closely followed by the officers and men, who gazed down in wonder at the human knot composed of the wondrously tied up three lying at the edge of the precipice.

"Come on," shouted Dickenson. "We've caught the ghost. Don't let him go."

"Here, hold these, some one," cried Sergeant James, and as soon as he had got rid of his lantern he made fast, as a sailor would say, to the prisoner and held on; while, to use his words, his mate pulled out the prisoner's stings, for he had three--two revolvers (one of course discharged) and a keen-bladed sheath-knife, something like an American bowie.

Five minutes later the light of the held-up lanterns fell upon a fierce-looking, much bruised and battered, black-bearded Boer, lying upon the rocky shelf, tied hand and foot, his face so smeared and disfigured by blood that it acted like a mask.

"Carry him down at once," said Captain Roby; "he is evidently badly wounded."

"Not he," growled Dickenson savagely. "He hurt me more than I hurt him. He used pistol; I only used fist and punched him in the nose."

Sergeant James smiled grimly, and drawing a roll of bandage from his wallet, tore off a bit and wiped the blood from the prisoner's face.

"Hullo!" he cried.--"Hooray, Captain Roby, sir! This is our Boer friend who tried to blow us up."

Lennox stopped forward eagerly, and signed for the lantern to be lowered.

"Yes," he cried wonderingly; "that is the man."

"And no mistake," said Dickenson. "Come, I call this a good catch."

The other officers looked down at the dark eyes scowling up at them.

"Yes," he growled fiercely, "I am the man; and I'll do it yet."

"Perhaps your precious game may be stopped now, my good fellow," said Captain Roby meaningly.

"Yes," said Captain Edwards sternly. "You were treated well and generously the first time; this time you may find that the English officers can be stern as well as generous to a beaten enemy.--Well, Captain Roby," he continued, "there was no mistake, you see, about the alarm."

"So I see," said the latter officer coldly.

"The thing is, what was he doing here?"

"Playing the spy, or hiding and waiting for a chance to get away, I suppose."

"Well, you will take him down with you, and report to the colonel," said Captain Edwards.

"Stop a bit," cried Dickenson. "You haven't got the other."

"What other?" cried the two captains in a breath.

"This fellow's comrade."

"Has he one?"

"You heard what the private said about seeing two," cried Dickenson.

"Oh, the words of a man in a scare go for nothing," said Captain Roby contemptuously.

"Perhaps not; but this fellow was in no scare when he called for his companion--Dirck, did he call him, Lennox?"

"Yes, Dirck; and he must be somewhere close at hand. Look, Bob."

He touched his comrade's arm to draw his attention to the sneering smile on the prisoner's face.

"And where do you think his friend is?" said Captain Edwards.

"In the same place as this man came from. They have a hiding-place somewhere close by."

"Yes," cried Dickenson; "one that enables them to play a regular Jack-in-the-box trick."

"But how? Where?" said Captain Edwards.

"I don't know how, and I don't know where it is," replied Lennox; "but I do know that they have a hiding-place somewhere here amongst the rocks. This Boer was not here one minute; then we heard the creaking and grinding of a stone door close at hand, and he was standing out against the sky."

"Whereabouts?" said Captain Roby.

"About here," said Lennox, stepping to the rock close at hand.--"Bring the lantern, quick."

Sergeant James stepped forward with his and held it up for his officer, who began to examine the rock; but Dickenson paid no heed. He employed himself in watching the prostrate Boer attentively, and noticed that his eyes were being blinked violently, as if the man were in a great state of excitement. But he seemed to calm down rapidly as the young subaltern walked to and fro, holding the light up, then down, and always coming back to the starting-place.

"Well, can't you find it?" said Captain Roby, with a sneer.

"No," replied Lennox frankly. "I can see no signs of it."

"And are not likely to," replied Captain Roby, with a grunt indicative of the contempt he felt. "It's all absurd. What did you expect to find? A hidden Aladdin's cave, with genii keeping the door?--Here, Dickenson, you are a gentleman of fine imagination. Go and help him. Expand your lungs, and cry _Open Sesame_!"

"Why don't you," said Dickenson, "as you know Persian, or whatever it is, so well?"

Captain Roby was about to make an angry retort, but Captain Edwards now interfered.

"I don't think there is any hiding-place along here," he said. "There may be a rift or cave somewhere about the kopje, but certainly there does not seem to be one in this part."

"I am not satisfied," said Lennox, who was busy still directing the light in and out among the crevices of the rocks. "It hardly seems possible, but the natural form of the granite is in blocks which look as if they had been piled-up by the hand of man. Could any one of these be a rough door?"

"No; absurd," said Captain Roby. "There, we have captured our prisoner; let's get him down to the colonel."

"But what about his calling for Dirck to help him?" said Lennox eagerly.

"I did not hear him call for Dirck to help him," said Roby contemptuously.

"No, but we did," cried Lennox, as he went on tapping the granite blocks with the butt of his revolver, curiously watched the while by the prisoner, who was in complete ignorance of the fact that Dickenson, who stood half behind, was intently watching him in turn.

"Give it up, Lennox," said Captain Roby. "You are doing no good there."

"Burning!" cried Dickenson so suddenly that every one turned and stared.

"What is burning?" cried Captain Edwards.

"Drew Lennox is."

"Burning?"

"Hang it all, sir! have you forgotten all your childish games?" cried Dickenson impatiently. "'Hot boiled beans,' you know. Lennox is seeking, and he's burning."

"Am I?" cried Lennox excitedly, and the grim faces of the men thrown up by the lanterns grew eager and excited too.

"To be sure you are," said Dickenson.

"How do you know?"

"By my lord the prisoner's phiz here. He gave quite a twitch when you tapped that last rock but one."

"Ha!" cried Lennox; "then there is a way in here. I thought it sounded hollow."

He stepped back and began to tap the rough stone again to prove his words, every one now noticing that the rock gave out a dull, hollow tone; while, unable to contain himself, the prisoner, as he lay tightly bound upon his back, uttered a low, hissing sound as he drew in a deep breath.

"Here we are," cried Lennox, more excited than ever. "Sergeant, give some one else that lantern; take a man with you up there by the gun, and bring back a crowbar or two, and one of the engineers' picks."

The men went off at once, and while the party awaited their return Lennox went on examining the rough block of granite by which he stood, but looked in vain for any sign of hinge or fastening.

"I hope you are right, Lennox," said Captain Edwards, who had stepped to his side; and he spoke in a low voice.

"So do I," was the reply; "but I feel sure that there is, for there must be a hiding-place somewhere. Wait a bit, and we shall capture the prisoner's mate."

Lennox involuntarily glanced down at where the carefully bound Boer lay with the light shining full upon his eyes, and he could not repress a start as he saw the malignant flash that seemed to dart from them into his own. It affected him so that he ceased his examination for the moment, waiting impatiently till the distant sound of steps announced the return of the sergeant and the man bearing the implements he had sought.

"Got the crowbar?" cried Lennox eagerly.

"Yes, sir."

"Then bring it here. Thrust it in under the stone at this natural crevice."

"Why?" said Captain Roby sharply.--"Here, sergeant, try higher up."

But before the words were fully uttered the sergeant had driven the chisel-edge of the iron bar into the horizontal crevice about on a level with his knees, with the result that the men cheered so loudly that they drowned the angry curse which escaped the Boer's lips. For, to the surprise of all, no sooner had the sergeant pressed down the wedged-in bar than it acted as a lever would, lifting one corner of the stone so that it slipped away, the great block turning easily upon a central pivot, and leaving an opening some four feet high and just wide enough for a man to pass through.

"The light, sergeant.--Bayonets, my lads!" shouted Lennox, springing forward; but his cry was mingled with one from the prisoner, who yelled out:

"Fire, Dirck; fire! Never mind yourself; blow them all into the air."

It was an order which was full of suggestion, coming as it did so soon after the cowardly attempt to kill the colonel and his chief officers; but not a man shrank from the task before him, nor hesitated to take the risk, whatever it might be. Lennox was in first, closely followed by the sergeant, lantern in his left hand, iron bar in his right, ready to strike down the first man who resisted, while the light was directed here and there in eager search for bag or barrel that might contain the elements of destruction.

The lantern lit up one of the typical caverns of the country, so many of which have been utilised for strongholds by the Matabele, Mashona, and other chiefs, and Lennox found himself in a rift of the stone which ran right up overhead, a vast crack which the light of the lantern was too feeble to pierce, while away to the right ran a low-roofed passage, striking off almost at right angles, but only to _zigzag_ farther on and die away in the darkness.

"Bayonets, lads!" cried Lennox again; "the other man must be down here."

"Look out!" cried Captain Roby, who was close behind. "Mind that open lantern there. Hi, sergeant! is there any sign of powder or dynamite?"

"No, sir," cried the non-com sharply, as he held the lantern as high as he could and made its light play in every direction. "All a bam to scare us, sir. No, no!" he yelled. "Keep back, every one. Up here, sir, in this hole. There's a bag that looks like those we found. Take the lantern, Mr Lennox, sir."

"No," cried the young officer; "keep it, and light me. The other fellow can't get away; we'll have him afterwards. Here we are," he continued, reaching up to a niche and drawing out a powder-bag. "Will you have it passed out, Mr Roby?"

"Yes: take hold, one of you.--Captain Edwards."

"Here you are."

"See that the powder-bag is put well out of the prisoner's reach. He is fast bound, but he might try to play us some trick."

"Yes, all right," said the captain; and then to the two men left on guard by the prisoner, "Keep a sharp eye on this man; don't let him stir."

"No, sir," was the reply; and then the order was given for the powder to be guarded.

As the captain returned it was to meet a man bearing out another bag, and he entered the cavern in time to see Lennox draw out another, and again another, till eight had been dragged out of the place into which they had been packed and carried out into the open air.

"Why, Lennox, man," he said laughingly, "you handle those bags as if they were tea. Aren't you afraid that some of them will explode?"

"Not he," said Dickenson, who was looking on and holding up the second lantern. "No danger. I'm here. I've been watching so that he shouldn't light a cigarette."

There was a titter from the men near, and Captain Roby cried impatiently, "Why, there's enough to have blown the top off the kopje and destroyed the big gun."

"Thoroughly, I should say, wedged-in there as it was," said Dickenson. "How much more is there, Lennox?"

"That's all," was the reply. "No, no. There's a great rift here to the right, full too."

"Hand it out, then, quickly," said Captain Roby. "Be careful there with your rifles; if a man lets his off by accident we shall all be blown to atoms."

"They'll take care," said Captain Edwards; "eh, my lads?"

"Rather, sir!" said the sergeant grimly; and all worked hard and carefully avoided the lanterns, till Lennox announced that the second rift had given out its last bag.

"Yes, that's all," he said; "but I want to know how they got it up here."

"They managed to get it up in the dark," said Captain Roby. "There, you may open a lantern now. Is there any sign of a train, Lennox?"

"Not the ghost of one. But I expect our friend meant to blow up the gun and do as much damage as he could besides. We were none too soon. Now what about the other? he must be in here somewhere. Shall I lead on, sir?"

"Yes," said Captain Roby sharply. "Take the sergeant with one lantern and ten men. I'll follow with the other lantern and ten more. You, Captain Edwards, keep a guard over the powder and the prisoner. Of course your men will be ready to receive any one trying to escape after avoiding our search."

"Right," was the answer; and sword in one hand, revolver in the other, Lennox and Dickenson began their advance into the maze-like cavern, closely followed by the sergeant holding the lantern well on high so that its rays kept on flashing from the men's bayonets.

"Keep your eyes well skinned, Drew, old chap," whispered Dickenson, "and never mind your revolver. You're sure to miss in a place like this.-- You behind, lads. The bayonet, mind, whenever our friend here makes a rush; he must be stopped."

There was a low murmur of assent from the men, and then, with eyes and bayonets gleaming strangely in the dancing light, the party moved steadily on into the weird darkness of the cave. _

Read next: Chapter 15. The Plot That Failed

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