Chapter 29. In Difficulties

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. IN DIFFICULTIES

On and on at the ponies' slow walk through the short scrub or over the bare plain, with the clever little animals seeming to instinctively avoid every stone that was invisible to the riders in the intense darkness. Every now and then a halt was made, one of which their steeds immediately took advantage by beginning to browse on such tender shoots as took their fancy, and again and again the whispered questions were asked:

"How does he seem, sergeant?"

"Fast asleep, sir."

"Hadn't you better let one of the men take your place?"

"Oh no, sir; I'm all right, and so's he."

"Can either of you hear anything?"

"No, sir; only the ponies cropping the bush." Then a faint, "We ought to be getting near home, sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

"Can we do anything more?"

"No, sir; only wish for a row of gas-lamps along a straight road, and it ain't any good to wish for that."

"I can see nothing, sergeant, and the sky seems blacker than the earth."

"Both about the same, sir, I think."

"It is so unfortunate, sergeant, just at a time like this."

"Oh, I don't know, sir; one ought to make the best of things, and weigh one against another."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, we're bothered a good deal with the darkness, and we're obliged to do what a human man don't like to do--trust to a dumb animal instead of himself. Of course that's bad; but then, on the other side, we're not running up against any of the enemy, and instead of hunting for hours after a long ride and then not finding what we come for, here we are not having a long dangerous ride at all, and him we wanted to find tumbling right atop of us and in a way of speaking, saying, 'Looking for me, my lads? Here I am!'"

"Yes, we have been very fortunate," said Dickenson.

"Fortunate, sir? I call it downright lucky."

"Of course--it is. But can we do no more?"

"Not that I see, sir--feel, I mean. We might camp down and let the horses feed till daylight."

"Oh no; let us keep on."

"Very well, sir; then there really is nothing we can do but trust to the ponies. They somehow seem to see in the dark."

"Forward, then!"

At the end of another half-hour they drew rein again, and almost precisely the same conversation took place, with the exception that Dickenson declared at the end that they must have lost their way.

"Well, sir," replied the sergeant dryly, "it's hardly fair to say that, sir."

"What do you mean?" said Dickenson tartly.

"Begging your pardon, sir, one can't lose what we've never had. It's been a regular game of Blindman's buff to me, sir, ever since we left the last post."

Dickenson was silent, for he felt that he had nothing to say but "Forward!" so he said that, and the ponies moved on again.

"We must be going wrong, sergeant," said Dickenson at last. "We have left Groenfontein to the right."

"No, sir; I think not," replied the man. "If we had, we should have broken our shins against the big kopje and been challenged by our men."

"Then we've passed it to the left."

"No, sir. If we had we should have come upon the little river, and the ponies would have been kicking up the stones."

"Then where are we?" said the lieutenant impatiently.

"That's just what I'm trying to find out, sir. I wouldn't care if I knew which was the north, because then one could say which was the south."

"Psh! It all comes of trusting to the ponies."

"Yes, sir; but that's one comfort," said the sergeant. "We know they're honest and would not lead us wrong. Poor brutes! they're doing their best."

"I'm beginning to feel hopelessly lost, sergeant. I believe we keep going on and on in a circle."

"Well, sir, we might be doing worse, because it must be daylight by-and-by."

"Not for hours," said Dickenson impatiently. "We are, as I said, hopelessly lost."

"Hardly," said the sergeant to himself, "for here we are." Then aloud he once more proposed that they should bivouac till daybreak.

"No," said the leader decisively. "We'll keep on. We must have been coming in the right direction, and, after all, I dare say Groenfontein is close at hand."

He was just about to give the order to march again when the long, snappish, disappointed howl of a jackal was heard, and the ponies ceased grazing and threw up their muzzles; while as Dickenson leaned forward to give his mount an encouraging pat he could feel that the timid creature's ears were thrust right forward.

"Always seems to me, sir," said the sergeant gently, "that the wild things out in these plains never get enough to eat. Hark at that brute."

He had hardly spoken when from out in the same direction as the jackal's cry, but much farther away, came the tremendous barking roar of a lion, making the ponies draw a deep breath and shiver.

"Well," said Dickenson, "that can't be our way. It must be open country yonder. It's all chance now, but we needn't run into danger and scare our mounts. We'll face right round and go as far as we can judge in the opposite direction to where that cry came from."

"Yes, sir; and it will make the ponies step out."

The sergeant was quite right, for the timid animals responded to the touch of the rein, immediately stepped out at the word "Forward!" and then broke into a trot, which had to be checked.

The roar was not heard again, but the yelps of the jackals were; and the party went on and on till suddenly the cautious little beasts began to swerve here and there, picking their way amongst stones which lay pretty thickly.

"This is quite fresh, sergeant," said Dickenson.

"Yes, sir. I was wondering whether we had hit upon the river-bank."

"Ah!" cried Dickenson eagerly, just as his pony stopped short, sighed, and began to browse without reaching down, the others seeming to do the same.

"But there's no river here, sir," continued the sergeant.

"How do you know?"

"Ponies say so, sir. If there'd been a river running by here, they'd be making for it to get a drink."

"Yes, of course. Here, sergeant, I can touch high boughs."

"Same here, sir."

"But there's no wood in our way."

"What about the patch where our men surprised the Boers yesterday, sir?"

"To be sure. Why, sergeant, we must have wandered there."

"That's it, sir, for all I'm worth."

"Ha!" said Dickenson, with a sigh of relief. "Then now we have something tangible, and can easily lay our course for Groenfontein." The sergeant coughed a little, short, sharp, dry cough, and said nothing. "Well, don't you think so?"

"Can't say I do, sir. I wish I did."

"Why, hang it, man! it's simple enough. Here's the coppice, and Groenfontein must lie--"

Dickenson stopped short and gave his ear a rub, full of vexation.

"Yes, sir, that's it," said the sergeant dryly; "this is the patch of wood, but which side of it we're looking at, or trying to look at, I don't know for the life of me. It seems to me that we're just as likely to strike off straight for the Boers' laager as for home. I don't know how you see it, sir."

"See, man!" cried Dickenson angrily. "It's of no use; I only wish I could see. We can do nothing. I was thinking that we had only to skirt round this place, and then face to our left and go straight on, and we should soon reach home."

"Yes, sir; I thought something of that sort at first, but I don't now. May I say a word, sir?"

"Yes; go on. I should be glad if you would."

"Well, sir, it's like this; whenever one's in the dark one's pretty well sure to go wrong, for there's only one right way to about fifty that are not."

"Yes, of course."

"Then won't it be best to wait till the day begins to show in the east, and rest and graze the ponies for a bit? Better for Mr Lennox too."

"You're right, sergeant; and it would have been better if I had given the order to do so at first.--Here, dismount, my lads, and hobble your cobs.--Here, I'll help you to get Mr Lennox down, sergeant. Stop a moment; let's try and find a patch of heath or grass or something first.--Hullo! what's here?" he cried a minute later, after dismounting and feeling about.

"What have you found, sir?"

"Ruts--wheel-marks made, of course, by our guns or their limbers. Can't we tell our way by those?"

"No, sir. It makes things a bit simpler; but we had a gun and wagon at each end, and we can't tell in the dark which end this is. If we start again by this we're just as likely to make straight off for the Boer camp as for ours."

"Yes; we'll wait for daylight, sergeant," said Dickenson. "We're all tired out, so let's have two or three hours' rest."

A few minutes later Lennox, still plunged in a stupor-like sleep, was lifted from the sergeant's pony, and at once subsided into the bed of short scrub found for him; the ponies, well hobbled, were cropping the tender parts of the bushes; and the weary party were sitting down.

There was silence for a few minutes, and then the sergeant spoke in a whisper.

"Think it would be safe for the men to light a pipe, sir?"

"Hum! Yes," said Dickenson, "if they light the match to start their pipes under a held-out jacket and in the shelter of one of the big stones."

He repented directly he had given the consent, on account of the risk.

"But, poor follows!" he said, "this will be the second night they have been out on the veldt, and it will help to keep them awake."

Lennox was at the end of a couple of hours sleeping as heavily as ever. Dickenson had seated himself close by him so that he could lay a hand upon his forehead from time to time; and he judged that the poor fellow must be in pain, for each time there was a sharp wincing, accompanied by a deep sigh, which resulted in the touch being laid on more lightly. It was only to satisfy himself in the darkness that his comrade was sleeping and not sinking into some horrible state of lethargy; and finding at last that there was no apparent need for his anxiety, the watcher directed his attention to listening for sounds out upon the veldt, and divided the time by making surmises as to the experiences through which Lennox must have passed.

Captured and escaped! That was the conclusion to which he always came, and he wished that Lennox would wake up and enliven the tedium of the dark watch by relating all that he had gone through.

The lion made itself heard again and again, but at greater distances; and the prowling jackals and hyenas seemed to follow, for their cries grew fainter and fainter and then died out into the solemn silence of the veldt, which somehow appeared to the listener as if it were connected with an intense feeling of cold.

Then all at once, as Dickenson turned himself wearily and in pain from the crushing he had received when the stone slipped, he became conscious of something dark close by, and his hand went involuntarily to his revolver.

The next minute he realised that what he saw was not darker, but the sky behind it lighter, and he sprang to his feet.

"You, sergeant?" he said.

"Yes, sir," was whispered back. "Be careful; one never knows who may be near. The light's coming fast."

Coming so fast that at the end of a quarter of an hour Dickenson could dimly make out the steep kopje by Groenfontein away to his left, and the low, hill-like laager that they had destroyed twenty-four hours before low down on the opposite horizon.

"Why, sergeant," he whispered eagerly, "if we had started again in the dark we should have gone right off to where the Boers might have been."

"Yes, sir, and away from home. That's the worst of being in the dark."

"As soon as it's a little lighter," whispered Dickenson, "we had better carefully examine this place. It is quite possible that there may be a patrol of the enemy occupying it, as we have done."

"Yes, sir, likely as not, for--"

The sergeant clapped his hand over his lips and dropped down upon his knees, snatching at his officer's jacket to make him follow his example.

There was need enough, for all at once there was something loudly uttered in Dutch, replied to by another speaker, the voices coming from the other side of the woodland patch.

In another minute there was quite a burst of talking, and, making signs to his two companions, the sergeant stepped softly to where the ponies were browsing and led them in amongst the trees, which stood up densely, until they were well hidden.

The next idea was to lift Lennox well under cover; but he was not touched, for he was still sleeping, and already so well hidden that it would not have been possible for any one to see him if passing round outside the trees and the thin belt of scrub.

"Get well down there, my lads," said Dickenson then. "We'll try and hold this little clump of stones if they do find us. If they do, we must give them a wild shout and a volley. They need not know how few we are."

The men crouched down among the stones while the pale grey dawn was broadening, and waited in the full expectation of being discovered; for though a mounted patrol might in passing fail to see the men, the chances were that it would be impossible to go by without catching sight of the ponies.

It was evident enough to the listeners that the Boer party had passed the night in this shelter, and that they must have been sleeping without a watch being kept; otherwise, in spite of the quiet movements of Dickenson and his men, their arrival must have been heard; and now, as they crouched there, rifle in hand, all waited in the hope that the party would ride off at once in the direction of the ruined laager.

But Dickenson waited in vain, for the crackling of burning sticks told that the enemy did not intend to start till they had made their breakfast, and the young officer's brain was busily employed debating as to whether it would not be better to try and drive them off with a surprise volley, putting them to flight in a panic. Under the circumstances he took the non-commissioned officer into consultation.

"If you think it's best, sir," said the sergeant, "do it; but you can't get much of a volley out of four rifles, and if you follow it up by emptying your magazines there'll be no panic, for they'll know what that means."

"What do you advise, then?"

"Waiting, sir. We're only four. There's Mr Lennox, but that seems like bringing us down to two instead of making us five. As we are we're in a strong position, and they may ride right away without seeing us; and that's what we want, I take it, for we don't want to fight--we want to get Mr Lennox safely back. If they don't ride straight off, and are coming round here and see us, we can try the panic plan while they're mounted. They're pretty well sure to scatter then. If we fire now they're not mounted, they'll take to cover, and that'll be bad, sir."

"Yes. It means a long, dull time," replied Dickenson. "We'll wait, sergeant; but how long it will be before they know we're here I'm sure I don't know. I've been expecting to hear one of the ponies neigh every moment, and that will be fatal."

"Oh, I don't know, sir. You never can tell. They may take fright even then after the startlings we've given them. They're brave enough chaps so long as they're fighting from behind stones, or in ambush, or when they think they've got the whip-hand of us; but a surprise, or the thought that we're getting round their flank and into their rear, is more than they can stand."

"Silence!" whispered Dickenson. "I think they're on the move."

But they were not, and the sun was well up before sundry sounds pointed to the fact that the enemy were preparing to start.

For sundry familiar cries were heard, such as a man would address to a fidgety horse which declined to have its saddle-girth tightened. The men were laughing and chatting, too, until a stern order rang out, one which was followed by the trampling of horses--so many that the sergeant turned and gave a significant glance at Dickenson.

"Now then, which way?" thought the latter. "If they come round this side they must see us, and they are bound to, for here lies their laager."

He was right, for the trampling came nearer, and it was quite evident that the little party were riding round in shelter of the patch of wood, so as to get it between them and the English camp before striking straight away.

They were only about a dozen yards distant, dimly seen through the intervening trees, and Dickenson was in the act of glancing right and left at his men when a chill ran through him. For Lennox, who had lain perfectly still in the shadow beneath the bush where he had been laid, suddenly began to mutter in a low, excited tone, indicating that he was just about waking up. It was impossible to warn him, even if he had been in a condition to be warned; and to attempt to stir so as to clap a hand over his lips must have resulted in being seen.

There was nothing for it but to crouch there in silence with hearts beating, and a general feeling that in another few seconds the order must come to fire.

The moments seemed to be drawn out to minutes as the Boers rode on, lessening their distance and talking loudly in a sort of formation two or three abreast, till the front pair were level, when one of them raised his hand to shade his eyes, and drew his comrade's attention to something in the distance.

"It's a party of the rooineks," he said in his Dutch patois; "or some of our horses left from that wretched surprise yesterday."

"I shall never do it in the dark," said Lennox half-aloud, and Dickenson's heart seemed to cease beating.

"What do you say, behind there?" cried the first speaker sharply, but without turning his head.

"I say they're rooineks," said one of the three who came next.

"Yes, they're rooineks, sure enough," said the first Boer; "but that's not what you said just now."

"Yes, I did," was the surly answer; "but every one here's talking at once."

"Yes," growled the first speaker. "Silence, there! Halt!"

The men reined up in a group, while the first man, who seemed to be in command, dragged out a much-battered field-glass, focussed it, and tried to fix the distant objects. But his horse was fresh and fidgety, waiting to be off.

"Stand still!" cried the Boer savagely, and he caught up the reins he had dropped on the neck of his mount and gave them a savage jerk which made the unfortunate animal plunge, sending the rest into disorder, so that it was another minute before steadiness was restored.--"Mind what you're about, there," cried the leader. "Keep close to the bushes. Do you want to be seen?"

He raised his glasses to his eyes again for a few seconds, closed them, and thrust them back into their case.

"There's too much haze there," he said. "Can't see, but I feel sure they're some of our ponies grazing."

"Going to round them up and take them back with us?"

"I would if I was sure," was the reply, "but after yesterday's work we can't afford to run risks. Curse them! They've got enough of our stores to keep them alive for another month."

Every man was gazing away into the distance, little suspecting that only a few yards away four magazine-rifles were covering them, and that at a word they would begin to void their charges, with the result that at least half-a-dozen of them, perhaps more, would drop from their saddles, possibly never to rise again. And all this while the little British party crouched there with, to use the untrue familiar expression, their hearts in their mouths, watching their enemies, but stealing a glance from time to time at the shadowy spot beneath the thick bush, wondering one and all what the young lieutenant would say next.

"He must give the order to fire," said the sergeant to himself as he covered the leader. "We shall have Mr Lennox speaking out louder directly and asking where he is."

The sergeant was quite right, for all of a sudden Lennox exclaimed:

"Why, it's light! Here, where am I?"

But it was directly after the Boer leader had shouted the order to advance, and the little body of active Bechuana ponies sprang forward, eager to begin cantering over the plain, not a man the worse for his narrow escape, as they burst out chatting together, Lennox's exclamation passing quite unnoticed, even if heard.

"Ha!" ejaculated Dickenson, exhaling his long-pent-up breath. "I doubt if any of them will be nearer their end again during the war."

And then, after making sure that the Boer party were going off at a sharp canter, and that the risk of speaking or being seen was at an end, he crawled quickly to where Lennox lay upon his back, his eyes once more closed, and sleeping as soundly as if he had never roused up into consciousness since early in the night.

"Lennox--Drew," whispered Dickenson, catching him by the arm, but only eliciting a low, incoherent muttering. "Well, you can sleep!"

"It's not quite natural, sir," said the sergeant. "He must have been hurt somewhere, and the sooner the doctor has a look at him the better."

"Yes," said Dickenson thoughtfully.--"That was a close shave, sergeant."

"Yes, sir--for the enemy. If we had fired they'd have gone off like frightened sheep, I feel sure now."

"Yes, I think so too. But we must not stir yet."

"No, sir; I'd give those fellows time to get out of sight. We don't want them to see us. If they did, they'd come swooping down to try and cut us off. What do you say to trying if we can make out what's wrong with Mr Lennox? I think he must have been hit in the head."

"Yes; let's look," said Dickenson: and after planting a sentry to keep a sharp lookout from a sheltered spot on each side of the little woodland patch, he set to work, with the sergeant's help, to carefully examine his rescued comrade, but without the slightest result, save finding that his head was a good deal swollen in one part, and, lower down, his left shoulder was puffed up, and apparently excessively tender from either a blow or wrench.

"It's beyond us," said Dickenson, with a sigh. "We'll make a start now, and get him into the doctor's hands."

"Yes, sir; we might make a start now," said the sergeant. "Wait a few minutes, sir, while I saddle up the ponies. I'll be quite ready before you call the sentries, sir."

"I'll try and wake Mr Lennox, then," said Dickenson, "and we'll get him on to the pony first."

"I wouldn't, sir, if you'll excuse me," said the sergeant. "If he's half-insensible like that from a hurt to his head, it'll be best to let him wake up of himself."

"Perhaps so," said the young officer; "but I don't like his being so stupefied as this."

The preparations were soon made, and the sergeant led the horses together, just as Dickenson rose from Lennox's side, took out his glass, and joined the sentry on their side.

"Can you make out anything?" he said.

"Only the same little cluster as the Boers did, sir. I think it's ponies grazing."

He had hardly spoken before there was a hail from the other side of the little wood.

"What is it?" shouted the sergeant.

"Boers coming along fast. I think it's the same lot coming back. Yes, it must be," cried the sentry. "I've just come across their pot and kettle and things. This must be their camp."

"Over here," shouted Dickenson. "Now, sergeant, we must mount and be off, for we shall not have such luck again."

"No, sir," said the sergeant gruffly. "Will you help, sir?"

Dickenson's answer was to hurry to his friend's side, and in a very short time he was once more on a pony, with the sergeant keeping him in his place; while the others sprang into their saddles and rode off, manoeuvring so as to keep the enemy well on the other side of the woodland clump, and managing so well that they did not even see them for a time, the Boers riding back toward their old bivouac; and for a while there seemed to be no danger.

But it was terribly slow work keeping to a walk. Twice over the pony on which Lennox was mounted was pressed into an amble, but the shaking seemed to distress the injured man, and the walking pace was resumed, till all at once there was ample evidence that they had been seen, a distant crack and puff of smoke following a whistling sound overhead, and directly after the dust was struck up pretty close to one of the ponies' hoofs.

"The game has begun, sergeant," said Dickenson calmly.

"Yes, sir. Shall we dismount and give them a taste back?"

"We out here on the open veldt, and they under cover quite out of sight? No; press on as fast as we can, straight for Groenfontein. They must have it all their own way now."

"Hadn't we better try a canter again, sir?"

"Yes, sergeant, if we are to save his life. Forward!"

They were nearly half a mile on their way, and slowly increasing the distance; but it was quite time to take energetic action, for, to Dickenson's dismay, the Boers were not going to content themselves with long shots, and all at once ten or a dozen appeared round one end of the little wood, spreading out as they galloped, and coming straight for them in an open line. _

Read next: Chapter 30. His Dues

Read previous: Chapter 28. A Find

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