Chapter Six.

Chapter Six.Night on the Veldt.I sat there in the chilly darkness, listening till the last sounds of the beating hoofs died out—began again—grew fainter—finally ceased altogether. Sandho stood perfectly still, with the painful heaving of his flanks gradually easing down. At last he uttered a low whinnying sound, as if asking me why we did not go on; but I made no movement, spoke no word, only sat and listened for the return of the Boers.There was no sound, for my ruse had succeeded; and I was just beginning to try to rouse myself from a faint, half-swooning state, when my nerves received a fillip; for there in the distance rose the deep, barking roar of a lion, followed by a pause, and then from a different direction came the horrible wailing howl of the unclean prowlers who follow the monarch of the desert to finish the remains of his feasts.Sandho stirred uneasily and drew a deep breath, which was followed by something strangely resembling a sigh. I knew it was time to move; and, shaking off a sensation of fast-approaching lethargy, I tried to get rid of the feeling of faintness, and only roused the sharp pain afresh. Still, that spurred me into effort; and as I pressed Sandho’s sides lightly, he began to amble gently along, while I raised my eyes to the stars, and endeavoured to make out which way we were travelling. There was a soft mistiness in the great arch above me, and it was some minutes before I could pick out a few of the familiar stars; but at last I was certain, and made out that the Boers had galloped on nearly due north, while Sandho’s nose was pointed east.North meant home; and without doubt they would keep on in that direction, feeling sure that I should make for the farm. East meant going in the right direction for Echo Nek and the mountains, though I should have to bear off after a time towards the north-east. Anyhow, matters were so far in my favour, and I tried to sit firm in the saddle as I let the horse amble on at the pace which I had often compared to swinging in an easy-chair; but the movement was agony now, and my great dread was lest I should faint and fall, for the suffering seemed greater than I could bear.In times of emergency—as I have often learned since—we are very poor judges, whether as boys or men, of how much the human frame can bear. Thus, in spite of all I suffered, I kept in the saddle, while, in what gradually seemed to grow into a horrible, fevered dream, my brave little horse ambled on and on, and later settled into a walk. He seemed always to be aiming for one great dim star, which gave me encouragement; then the dread came over me that, from his steady pursuance of our journey, he must be making for home, and taking me right into the midst of my enemies.After a time he stopped short, and from the steadycrop, crop, crop, I knew he was amongst grass; and he grazed away long enough before moving on again at his old amble. Again he pulled up for another good long feed, while I managed to find words to talk to him—foolishly, no doubt; but it helped me and kept off the feeling of pain and loneliness, seeming to give me strength, too, as I called him “Poor fellow,” and told him how sorry I was I could not get down to rest him, and make his meal pleasanter by unfastening the curb and taking out his bit.It was all folly perhaps; but my words were very earnest and true, and I believe the poor, faithful slave liked to hear my voice, for every now and then when I spoke he would cease cropping the rich grass, whose moist odour rose pleasantly to my nostrils, and utter one of his low whinnying calls.“He is happy enough,” I thought, in my dull misery; “while I, suffering as I do, would give anything for a mouthful of water. Oh!” I sighed aloud at last, “if this long night would only come to an end, and I could reach a spruit. Just to get down and have one long drink, before trying to sleep and rest!”As I said these words I felt that no sleep could possibly come to one suffering such pain, and in desperation I once more made an effort to free my hands, but only to set my teeth hard and utter a faint groan, for the pain I suffered in the act seemed to increase tenfold.I felt half-delirious and strange after that, or at least it seems so now; but I have some recollection of Sandho going on, stopping to crop the grass, and then going on again and again, till I found myself gazing straight before me at a faint, dull light in the distance—a light which increased more and more, bringing with it a kind of feeling of hope that the long night of agony was coming to an end, for I knew I was gazing eastward, and that it would soon be day.Shortly afterwards I could see we were getting to the termination of the plain, for there were scattered blocks of stone, with mountains beyond; and something seemed to flash through me at the sight. “Stones,” I said aloud; “of course! Why not some rough edge against which I can saw the raw-hide straps which bind my hands?”There was a faint speck of orange light high up in the sky just then, and it seemed to be reflected somehow into my brain, making me see my way at last to a better state of things. Hope was coming with the new day, and the blackness of despair slowly dying out.With the sun rapidly brightening the sky, I urged Sandho forward, but only at a walk, for he was weary and sluggish, and the slightest movement beyond that pace brought back the sickening pain so intensely that I believe if he had broken into a trot I should have fainted and fallen to the ground. By going gently, however, we gradually neared the wild and rocky portion beyond which the huge masses of stone towered up into a mighty heap, forming one of the rough hills with precipitous sides known to the Dutch settlers as “kopjes” or “heads.”I now began to revive more and more in the fresh, invigorating morning air, and carefully examined the open veldt away to the north and east in search of the enemy; but not a living thing was visible. Then I turned my attention towards the rough ground in front and the kopje beyond, as I knew full well these were likely to be the home of other enemies, which on an ordinary occasion would retreat before an armed and mounted man; how they would behave towards one so completely helpless I shuddered to think. Sandho, however, made no sign beyond raising his muzzle again to sniff at the breeze we encountered; and when I called upon him to halt, he lowered his head directly and began to crop the rich grass growing amongst the stones.My intention now was to dismount; but I sat still, hesitating, and looking away over the open veldt, fearing to alight, being fully aware how helpless I should be and unequal to the task of remounting.However, it had to be done; so, pulling myself together, I drew my feet from the stirrups, and called upon Sandho to stand fast. Then, lying forward till my face touched my steed’s neck, I made a desperate effort—quickly, for I could not trust my strength—drew my injured left leg right up on to the horse’s back, and lay there perfectly still for a few moments, suffering horribly from the pain of my overstrained muscles, before making another effort, and then dropped down on my right foot, dismounting on the wrong side of the horse, feeling, as I did so, everything give way. I had completely collapsed, and all was blank. It may have been an hour, or it may have been only a few minutes—possibly only seconds—passed before I opened my eyes and gazed up, wondering what was the meaning of the soft, warm puffs of moist air, and what it was that kept on snuffing at my face.“Sandho, old boy!” I said, gazing up in his great, soft eyes, and the wondering horse whinnied and then turned away to begin grazing once more; while I waited for the sick feeling from which I suffered to pass off, before trying to get up and find some sharp-edged stone against which I could rub the raw-hide thong which bound my wrists.It was terrible work, and I had to make a severe call upon my courage before I made the first effort. For it was like this: I was quite exhausted and in a state of semi-stupor, combined with drowsiness. So long as I lay quite still my injuries felt dull and numbed; but at the slightest movement my arms and shoulders gave a burning, fiery pain, while my left leg and ankle shot out pangs almost unbearable.The effort had to be made, though; and, setting my teeth hard, I called up all my powers of endurance, and after a severe struggle managed to get upon my knees.The pain now was excruciating; and, realising that my left leg must be badly hurt, I made another effort before I was overcome again, getting upon my feet and reeling towards a big upright mass of granite; but before I had taken half-a-dozen limping steps the whole scene began to glide round me, and I fell heavily, insensible once more.It is no easy task to rise to one’s feet when lying with arms tightly bound behind the back. Think, then, what it must have been to one suffering as I was—arms swollen and cut into by the leather thong, utterly exhausted, and with one leg rendered completely useless.Again I passed through that sickening phase of recovery from a swoon; and then it was some time before my senses would act, and I could fully grasp the situation and understand I must once more make that same effort to rise.I was thoroughly desperate now; and as soon as I fully grasped my position I made another attempt, turning over from my back, where I lay in agony upon my swollen hands and wrists, on to my face. It was impossible to keep it back, and I uttered a low cry, which brought Sandho trotting towards me from where he was making a hearty meal. Then I lay quite still, with the deathly sickness passing off once more, my heart beating heavily all the time and a feeling of thankfulness making me glow; for there, as I lay face downwards, I knew that my helpless and swollen arms and hands were lying on either side, perfectly numb, but free. In that last heavy fall, in trying to reach the stone, the thong must have snapped, the dew-soaked raw leather falling loose; and now I had only to wait till the circulation and sense of feeling returned.The pain I suffered was still bad enough, but it seemed to be softened by the feeling of joy which pervaded me; and soon after, Sandho having wandered off again to graze, I heard a sound which nerved me to renewed efforts—the peculiar plashing made by a horse wading into a pebbly stream. That was enough. A minute later I was struggling to reach the stone I had fought to gain before; and by its help I got upon my feet, when I saw Sandho some twenty yards away, standing in a depression by the side of a perpendicular mass of rock, down whose side a spring of water gushed and ran off below the rock, to sink out of sight some distance off.It was hard work, and the pain excessive; but I limped and shuffled along till I was close to the stream, and then sank down again, to lie and drink and drink again of the sweet, pure water, every mouthful giving me renewed energy.I must have fallen asleep after dragging myself from the pool—a swoon-like sleep, from which I awoke in a confused, muddled state—only gradually grasping my position and realising how long I must have been insensible, for the kopje above me was glowing as if on fire, bathed in the glory which suffused the west. My horse was lying down a dozen yards away, with his head just raised; and in front, forming a charming picture, was a little herd of about a dozen graceful antelopes, some drinking, some standing in the water, and another upon the top of a low flat stone, with head erect and long horns gracefully curving over its back as it kept a lookout for danger; a slight movement upon my part a few moments later making the beautiful animal utter a snort, and then the whole party were off like the wind.Their rush made Sandho spring to his feet with a neigh of alarm, and then, as I made an effort and rose to a sitting position, he bounded up to me, whinnying with pleasure, and thrust his muzzle over my shoulder.To my delight, I found that, though painful and tender, the swelling of my arms and wrists had gone down; while much of the pain had left my leg, which was, however, stiff and helpless from the terrible wrench.My first movement was to get to the spring above where the little stream had been trampled and discoloured by the antelopes; and after a good draught I stood up once more, feeling ready to attempt mounting again, and see if I could reach the spot my father had appointed for the meeting with Joeboy. I knew, too, from sundry symptoms, that I must be better—far better than I could have expected, for I was ravenously hungry; and as I realised this I could not keep back a laugh. A capital sign this, though painful, for there was no chance of obtaining food till I could reach some farm; but I could recall no likely place on my way to the Nek, and so the hunger-pains had to be borne.Leaving Sandho browsing upon the rich grass near the spring in a dainty way, which, in combination with his appearance, suggested that he had been feeding to his heart’s content, I climbed over the rocks till I reached the highest point of the kopje. There, lying down, I set myself to carefully scan the open veldt in search of mounted men; till, satisfied there were none to be seen, I descended, mounted my horse, and rode gently away, not suffering more than was to be expected after what I had gone through.The country where I now was seemed fairly familiar, and I soon made out mountain-tops in the distance, which served as guides. One peak in particular I marked down as lying to the left of Echo Nek, or at all events near the gap in the mountains I was to reach; and towards this Sandho ambled for another hour, when the night began to close in fast. After marking down the direction of the peak as well as I could before the light died out on the misty horizon, I waited till it was quite dark, then I selected a star which I calculated was just over where I had last seen the peak, and once more rode on for what must have been three hours; but then, concluding that to ride farther might possibly mean going astray, I walked my horse till a tolerably suitable spot offered itself for a halting-place till daylight, where I off-saddled Sandho, turned him loose to graze, and settled myself down in a patch of thorny bush to pass the night as I could.I longed to light a fire to keep off lions; but in avoiding one enemy I felt I might be attracting another; for if there were Boers anywhere in the neighbourhood they would be certain to ride up, and then all my efforts would prove to have been in vain. Hence there was nothing for it but to take the risk.The night was glorious though cold, for I had been imperceptibly rising into high ground. The stars sparkled as if there was frost; but I had no eyes for the beauty of the scene, hemmed in as I was by enemies. Twice over I shivered as to the fate of poor Sandho, the deep, muttering roar of the lions seeming to make the ground tremble and the air vibrate. If they scented my horse and drew near I was perfectly defenceless, and could do nothing to save the poor beast. So alarmed did I grow at last upon his account that I determined to risk being seen, and hurriedly began to collect scraps of dead wood, twigs, and such pieces of dry grass as were likely to burn. I did not stop to find many; but, startled by a loud barking roar that, in my nervous state, sounded very near, I knelt down and struck a match, holding it well sheltered with my hands till the splint was fully alight, and then started the grass and wood. Fortunately these were thoroughly dry and caught readily; but the quantity was very small, and the blaze a mere trifle compared with what I wished to obtain. So, as actively as I was able, I started collecting everything I could, and carefully piled it up; but with small success, for I had to depend entirely upon my hands to break off scraps, and they burned away almost as fast as I could reach the fire.I had just thrown on as much as I could hug to my breast when I was startled by a heavy breathing; and, turning sharply, for a moment or two I was certain that one of the fierce beasts had crept up. There, only a few feet away, were a pair of glistening eyes reflecting the fitful flames, and I began to back so as to get the fire between me and my foe.

I sat there in the chilly darkness, listening till the last sounds of the beating hoofs died out—began again—grew fainter—finally ceased altogether. Sandho stood perfectly still, with the painful heaving of his flanks gradually easing down. At last he uttered a low whinnying sound, as if asking me why we did not go on; but I made no movement, spoke no word, only sat and listened for the return of the Boers.

There was no sound, for my ruse had succeeded; and I was just beginning to try to rouse myself from a faint, half-swooning state, when my nerves received a fillip; for there in the distance rose the deep, barking roar of a lion, followed by a pause, and then from a different direction came the horrible wailing howl of the unclean prowlers who follow the monarch of the desert to finish the remains of his feasts.

Sandho stirred uneasily and drew a deep breath, which was followed by something strangely resembling a sigh. I knew it was time to move; and, shaking off a sensation of fast-approaching lethargy, I tried to get rid of the feeling of faintness, and only roused the sharp pain afresh. Still, that spurred me into effort; and as I pressed Sandho’s sides lightly, he began to amble gently along, while I raised my eyes to the stars, and endeavoured to make out which way we were travelling. There was a soft mistiness in the great arch above me, and it was some minutes before I could pick out a few of the familiar stars; but at last I was certain, and made out that the Boers had galloped on nearly due north, while Sandho’s nose was pointed east.

North meant home; and without doubt they would keep on in that direction, feeling sure that I should make for the farm. East meant going in the right direction for Echo Nek and the mountains, though I should have to bear off after a time towards the north-east. Anyhow, matters were so far in my favour, and I tried to sit firm in the saddle as I let the horse amble on at the pace which I had often compared to swinging in an easy-chair; but the movement was agony now, and my great dread was lest I should faint and fall, for the suffering seemed greater than I could bear.

In times of emergency—as I have often learned since—we are very poor judges, whether as boys or men, of how much the human frame can bear. Thus, in spite of all I suffered, I kept in the saddle, while, in what gradually seemed to grow into a horrible, fevered dream, my brave little horse ambled on and on, and later settled into a walk. He seemed always to be aiming for one great dim star, which gave me encouragement; then the dread came over me that, from his steady pursuance of our journey, he must be making for home, and taking me right into the midst of my enemies.

After a time he stopped short, and from the steadycrop, crop, crop, I knew he was amongst grass; and he grazed away long enough before moving on again at his old amble. Again he pulled up for another good long feed, while I managed to find words to talk to him—foolishly, no doubt; but it helped me and kept off the feeling of pain and loneliness, seeming to give me strength, too, as I called him “Poor fellow,” and told him how sorry I was I could not get down to rest him, and make his meal pleasanter by unfastening the curb and taking out his bit.

It was all folly perhaps; but my words were very earnest and true, and I believe the poor, faithful slave liked to hear my voice, for every now and then when I spoke he would cease cropping the rich grass, whose moist odour rose pleasantly to my nostrils, and utter one of his low whinnying calls.

“He is happy enough,” I thought, in my dull misery; “while I, suffering as I do, would give anything for a mouthful of water. Oh!” I sighed aloud at last, “if this long night would only come to an end, and I could reach a spruit. Just to get down and have one long drink, before trying to sleep and rest!”

As I said these words I felt that no sleep could possibly come to one suffering such pain, and in desperation I once more made an effort to free my hands, but only to set my teeth hard and utter a faint groan, for the pain I suffered in the act seemed to increase tenfold.

I felt half-delirious and strange after that, or at least it seems so now; but I have some recollection of Sandho going on, stopping to crop the grass, and then going on again and again, till I found myself gazing straight before me at a faint, dull light in the distance—a light which increased more and more, bringing with it a kind of feeling of hope that the long night of agony was coming to an end, for I knew I was gazing eastward, and that it would soon be day.

Shortly afterwards I could see we were getting to the termination of the plain, for there were scattered blocks of stone, with mountains beyond; and something seemed to flash through me at the sight. “Stones,” I said aloud; “of course! Why not some rough edge against which I can saw the raw-hide straps which bind my hands?”

There was a faint speck of orange light high up in the sky just then, and it seemed to be reflected somehow into my brain, making me see my way at last to a better state of things. Hope was coming with the new day, and the blackness of despair slowly dying out.

With the sun rapidly brightening the sky, I urged Sandho forward, but only at a walk, for he was weary and sluggish, and the slightest movement beyond that pace brought back the sickening pain so intensely that I believe if he had broken into a trot I should have fainted and fallen to the ground. By going gently, however, we gradually neared the wild and rocky portion beyond which the huge masses of stone towered up into a mighty heap, forming one of the rough hills with precipitous sides known to the Dutch settlers as “kopjes” or “heads.”

I now began to revive more and more in the fresh, invigorating morning air, and carefully examined the open veldt away to the north and east in search of the enemy; but not a living thing was visible. Then I turned my attention towards the rough ground in front and the kopje beyond, as I knew full well these were likely to be the home of other enemies, which on an ordinary occasion would retreat before an armed and mounted man; how they would behave towards one so completely helpless I shuddered to think. Sandho, however, made no sign beyond raising his muzzle again to sniff at the breeze we encountered; and when I called upon him to halt, he lowered his head directly and began to crop the rich grass growing amongst the stones.

My intention now was to dismount; but I sat still, hesitating, and looking away over the open veldt, fearing to alight, being fully aware how helpless I should be and unequal to the task of remounting.

However, it had to be done; so, pulling myself together, I drew my feet from the stirrups, and called upon Sandho to stand fast. Then, lying forward till my face touched my steed’s neck, I made a desperate effort—quickly, for I could not trust my strength—drew my injured left leg right up on to the horse’s back, and lay there perfectly still for a few moments, suffering horribly from the pain of my overstrained muscles, before making another effort, and then dropped down on my right foot, dismounting on the wrong side of the horse, feeling, as I did so, everything give way. I had completely collapsed, and all was blank. It may have been an hour, or it may have been only a few minutes—possibly only seconds—passed before I opened my eyes and gazed up, wondering what was the meaning of the soft, warm puffs of moist air, and what it was that kept on snuffing at my face.

“Sandho, old boy!” I said, gazing up in his great, soft eyes, and the wondering horse whinnied and then turned away to begin grazing once more; while I waited for the sick feeling from which I suffered to pass off, before trying to get up and find some sharp-edged stone against which I could rub the raw-hide thong which bound my wrists.

It was terrible work, and I had to make a severe call upon my courage before I made the first effort. For it was like this: I was quite exhausted and in a state of semi-stupor, combined with drowsiness. So long as I lay quite still my injuries felt dull and numbed; but at the slightest movement my arms and shoulders gave a burning, fiery pain, while my left leg and ankle shot out pangs almost unbearable.

The effort had to be made, though; and, setting my teeth hard, I called up all my powers of endurance, and after a severe struggle managed to get upon my knees.

The pain now was excruciating; and, realising that my left leg must be badly hurt, I made another effort before I was overcome again, getting upon my feet and reeling towards a big upright mass of granite; but before I had taken half-a-dozen limping steps the whole scene began to glide round me, and I fell heavily, insensible once more.

It is no easy task to rise to one’s feet when lying with arms tightly bound behind the back. Think, then, what it must have been to one suffering as I was—arms swollen and cut into by the leather thong, utterly exhausted, and with one leg rendered completely useless.

Again I passed through that sickening phase of recovery from a swoon; and then it was some time before my senses would act, and I could fully grasp the situation and understand I must once more make that same effort to rise.

I was thoroughly desperate now; and as soon as I fully grasped my position I made another attempt, turning over from my back, where I lay in agony upon my swollen hands and wrists, on to my face. It was impossible to keep it back, and I uttered a low cry, which brought Sandho trotting towards me from where he was making a hearty meal. Then I lay quite still, with the deathly sickness passing off once more, my heart beating heavily all the time and a feeling of thankfulness making me glow; for there, as I lay face downwards, I knew that my helpless and swollen arms and hands were lying on either side, perfectly numb, but free. In that last heavy fall, in trying to reach the stone, the thong must have snapped, the dew-soaked raw leather falling loose; and now I had only to wait till the circulation and sense of feeling returned.

The pain I suffered was still bad enough, but it seemed to be softened by the feeling of joy which pervaded me; and soon after, Sandho having wandered off again to graze, I heard a sound which nerved me to renewed efforts—the peculiar plashing made by a horse wading into a pebbly stream. That was enough. A minute later I was struggling to reach the stone I had fought to gain before; and by its help I got upon my feet, when I saw Sandho some twenty yards away, standing in a depression by the side of a perpendicular mass of rock, down whose side a spring of water gushed and ran off below the rock, to sink out of sight some distance off.

It was hard work, and the pain excessive; but I limped and shuffled along till I was close to the stream, and then sank down again, to lie and drink and drink again of the sweet, pure water, every mouthful giving me renewed energy.

I must have fallen asleep after dragging myself from the pool—a swoon-like sleep, from which I awoke in a confused, muddled state—only gradually grasping my position and realising how long I must have been insensible, for the kopje above me was glowing as if on fire, bathed in the glory which suffused the west. My horse was lying down a dozen yards away, with his head just raised; and in front, forming a charming picture, was a little herd of about a dozen graceful antelopes, some drinking, some standing in the water, and another upon the top of a low flat stone, with head erect and long horns gracefully curving over its back as it kept a lookout for danger; a slight movement upon my part a few moments later making the beautiful animal utter a snort, and then the whole party were off like the wind.

Their rush made Sandho spring to his feet with a neigh of alarm, and then, as I made an effort and rose to a sitting position, he bounded up to me, whinnying with pleasure, and thrust his muzzle over my shoulder.

To my delight, I found that, though painful and tender, the swelling of my arms and wrists had gone down; while much of the pain had left my leg, which was, however, stiff and helpless from the terrible wrench.

My first movement was to get to the spring above where the little stream had been trampled and discoloured by the antelopes; and after a good draught I stood up once more, feeling ready to attempt mounting again, and see if I could reach the spot my father had appointed for the meeting with Joeboy. I knew, too, from sundry symptoms, that I must be better—far better than I could have expected, for I was ravenously hungry; and as I realised this I could not keep back a laugh. A capital sign this, though painful, for there was no chance of obtaining food till I could reach some farm; but I could recall no likely place on my way to the Nek, and so the hunger-pains had to be borne.

Leaving Sandho browsing upon the rich grass near the spring in a dainty way, which, in combination with his appearance, suggested that he had been feeding to his heart’s content, I climbed over the rocks till I reached the highest point of the kopje. There, lying down, I set myself to carefully scan the open veldt in search of mounted men; till, satisfied there were none to be seen, I descended, mounted my horse, and rode gently away, not suffering more than was to be expected after what I had gone through.

The country where I now was seemed fairly familiar, and I soon made out mountain-tops in the distance, which served as guides. One peak in particular I marked down as lying to the left of Echo Nek, or at all events near the gap in the mountains I was to reach; and towards this Sandho ambled for another hour, when the night began to close in fast. After marking down the direction of the peak as well as I could before the light died out on the misty horizon, I waited till it was quite dark, then I selected a star which I calculated was just over where I had last seen the peak, and once more rode on for what must have been three hours; but then, concluding that to ride farther might possibly mean going astray, I walked my horse till a tolerably suitable spot offered itself for a halting-place till daylight, where I off-saddled Sandho, turned him loose to graze, and settled myself down in a patch of thorny bush to pass the night as I could.

I longed to light a fire to keep off lions; but in avoiding one enemy I felt I might be attracting another; for if there were Boers anywhere in the neighbourhood they would be certain to ride up, and then all my efforts would prove to have been in vain. Hence there was nothing for it but to take the risk.

The night was glorious though cold, for I had been imperceptibly rising into high ground. The stars sparkled as if there was frost; but I had no eyes for the beauty of the scene, hemmed in as I was by enemies. Twice over I shivered as to the fate of poor Sandho, the deep, muttering roar of the lions seeming to make the ground tremble and the air vibrate. If they scented my horse and drew near I was perfectly defenceless, and could do nothing to save the poor beast. So alarmed did I grow at last upon his account that I determined to risk being seen, and hurriedly began to collect scraps of dead wood, twigs, and such pieces of dry grass as were likely to burn. I did not stop to find many; but, startled by a loud barking roar that, in my nervous state, sounded very near, I knelt down and struck a match, holding it well sheltered with my hands till the splint was fully alight, and then started the grass and wood. Fortunately these were thoroughly dry and caught readily; but the quantity was very small, and the blaze a mere trifle compared with what I wished to obtain. So, as actively as I was able, I started collecting everything I could, and carefully piled it up; but with small success, for I had to depend entirely upon my hands to break off scraps, and they burned away almost as fast as I could reach the fire.

I had just thrown on as much as I could hug to my breast when I was startled by a heavy breathing; and, turning sharply, for a moment or two I was certain that one of the fierce beasts had crept up. There, only a few feet away, were a pair of glistening eyes reflecting the fitful flames, and I began to back so as to get the fire between me and my foe.

Chapter Seven.My Nocturnal Visitor.As I moved it moved too; and I dimly saw the outstretched head and body, as I supposed, of a monstrous lion about to spring, when, the fire having flashed up more brightly, I uttered a gasp of relief. It was Sandho, who had come quietly up to the fire for company and protection.I worked the harder then, and kept on hour after hour, having to take longer and longer journeys as I exhausted the supply close at hand; and all the time I was perfectly conscious that lions were near, prowling round our little apology for a camp so as to spring upon the horse and pull him down. Every time I started for more fuel I expected to hear a roar and feel one of the savage creatures spring upon me; but the night wore on, with the fire giving a steadier glow as the time passed. I suppose the fact of my keeping up a hurried movement, making a desperate rush here and there, with the light from the fire throwing up my figure plainly, was too much for the great cats, and they feared to attack. Whatever it was, they were kept at bay; and daybreak found me thoroughly exhausted, the last growl having died out, the light showing the great soft footprints of our enemies round and round the clump of bushes, crossing and recrossing, and suggesting that there had been a party of four—an old lioness and her nearly full-grown cubs.It was a narrow escape; and, as if only too glad to get away from so dangerous a spot, Sandho so fidgeted to start that I had hard work to secure the broken end of his rein to the ring of the bit without shortening it so much that I could not hold it in my hand.I took a good look round, however, before starting, and it was well I did so, for, clearly seen now in the level sunbeams away to the north, there was a party of horsemen riding in my direction, and discovery seemed certain, even if I had not already been seen.My first idea was to spring into the saddle and gallop off; but I was in no condition for springing into my saddle. Crippled as I was, it meant a slow and painful climb, and then in all probability the utmost I could do would be to walk my horse slowly away.To mount, lie down, and urge the horse round to the back of the clump of bushes which had formed my shelter during the past night, and then cautiously strike off straight away towards the mountains at a walk, doing my best to keep the shelter of scrub between me and the enemy, seemed the wiser plan, and this I put into execution.I had several things in my favour by doing this: the distance between me and the horsemen was great; and I felt certain that, if it were a portion of the captain’s troop, they had no glass of any kind. If they caught sight of me in making my retreat, they would only fancy they saw the figure of some peculiar, humpbacked-looking animal; and on making for the mountains my position upon Sandho’s back would never lead them to suppose it was a horse bearing a rider. This supposition, too, would be helped by the fact that there were still little herds and single wanderers, the relics of the vast hosts of antelopes of various species, from the tiny gazelle-like animals up through the clumsy hartebeeste and wildebeeste to the huge eland; and at a distance I felt it possible that myself and steed might be taken for one of these.While thinking thus, and going through a painful struggle to get upon my horse properly, it seemed to me that the party were visibly coming nearer; but, hidden as we were by the bushes, I could see, from where I lay on my horse’s back, as I turned my eyes in their direction, that so far I was not discovered. The crucial test, however, was yet to come; for, though I could keep Sandho out of sight for half a mile possibly, the land was gradually rising, and in that distance or less, I knew, we should stand out plainly in the clear air. Then, if seen, suffer what I might, I was determined to urge my horse on to his greatest speed, leaving the rest to fate.I had no trouble with my well-trained steed, which obeyed every word or pressure; and with eyes so turned that I could keep the bush between us, I guided Sandho on till, as I had anticipated, the party of mounted men came gradually into view—first only the men, but soon after their horses. So far, they were going only at a walk, to pass the track diagonally to my course and some distance away.As they were so visible, I felt they must soon see me, and tried hard to efface myself as much as possible, knowing that my dusky-brownish, homespun breeches, flannel shirt, and tanned high boots must assimilate well with the coat of my chestnut horse, and this cheered me a little.Then, suddenly, I knew I was seen, for one of the men drew rein, letting the others go on a few horse-lengths before; and, as if in answer to a summons from the man behind, the rest of the party halted and sat gazing in my direction.The next minute the man who had halted by himself now dismounted, and I saw a gleaming light glance from where he stood and then dropped down. It was too far off for me to see distinctly; but knowledge supplied what my eyes failed to grasp, and I knew the gleam was from his rifle-barrel reflecting the sun’s rays, and the man’s attitude that of one about to try a long shot at the uncouth animal in view beyond the thorny scrub.There is an old-fashioned saying about people’s feelings in critical moments: that their hearts stood still. Now, I don’t believe for a moment that mine ceased to beat; but it certainly felt as if it did, while I lay rising and falling, yielding to Sandho’s movements, and gazing straight back at the little hole which I knew must be pointed straight at me—invisible, of course; but the little puff of white smoke which suddenly jetted into the air was plain enough to my eyes, and so was the peculiar buzzing sound to my ears as the bullet passed over me like some strange bee in a violent hurry to reach its hive. Then came the sharp crack as of a sjambok wielded by a strong and well-accustomed arm.“A miss, and no wonder!” I exclaimed; and I suppose I must have started and given Sandho a familiar pressure, or else it was the instinct of self-preservation at work in the sensible animal, for he suddenly made a bound forward so unexpectedly that I was nearly unseated; but my arms were now free, and, reaching down and getting tight hold of his leathern breastplate, I held on and let him go. The instinct of self-preservation was also strongly to the fore in me, and I lay fully expecting to hear the whizzing of half-a-dozen more bullets and the cracking of the rifles, since naturally I could see nothing then, my face lying against the horse’s neck, as he bounded on at an easy gallop.Were the enemy in pursuit?I strained my hearing, but I could make out nothing more than the regular beat of my horse’s hoofs; while, as no shots came, I felt certain they had made out my figure and were coming on in full chase.“They’ll have a long one,” I thought; for, though I was in great pain, I found, to my intense delight, that I could accommodate myself to Sandho’s long swinging gallop as he spurned the soft loose earth behind him, the ascent being exceedingly slight; and we were progressing in a series of antelope-like bounds.At last, after galloping for quite ten minutes, something in front made Sandho swerve round to the left; and, before raising my head to see what it was, I turned my face sidewise so as to get a glance back at my pursuers, and could hardly believe my eyes when I saw that no Boers were there. It was not until I raised my head a little to gaze back in the other direction that I could see them far away in the distance, evidently pursuing the course they had followed before the incidents of the halt and shot occurred.Now I held on tightly and raised my head, endeavouring to make out why my horse had swerved. There it was plain enough: another of the stony kops which rose up to block our way had forced him to gallop along the unencumbered ground at the foot of a great line of hills, beyond which was the peak I had marked down as being in the neighbourhood of Echo Nek.Unfortunately the land here was all strange to me, my journeys never having led me so far on this side of the mountains. Still, I felt I must be going in the direction of the Nek, and that sooner or later I should come to some valley into which I could strike off to the right, and get through and round by the peak beyond which I now certainly believed Echo Nek must be.I made no effort to check Sandho, who was keeping on nearly level ground, but now raised myself upright in the saddle to watch for that which I had forgotten during the time I was in danger, but now that I was comparatively safe seemed to be the very first thing I should seek.Many hours had now passed since, I had broken my fast; and at eighteen the desire for food is a tyrant against which no growing boy or young man can fight. But no. To my right were the rugged, barren hills undotted by bullock or sheep; to the left a far-spreading stretch of unfertile veldt; and though I cantered on for another full hour not a homestead came into sight.At last, however, I saw a break in the continuous ridge of hills on my right, and eased Sandho down into his gentle amble, not willing to press him hard, for I knew that at any minute I might be obliged to urge him to his greatest speed.In another half-hour we were bearing off to the right, for the hills had opened into a broad valley, at the head of which the great peak I had seen now rose up as if to block the way; and in spite of my hunger I felt lighter-hearted, for I was getting sure of my bearings. Yes, there beyond the shoulder of the peak was the crag just below which lay Echo Nek only a few miles away, not more than an hour’s canter along the fairly even valley, and then— Oh, if Joeboy should not be there!“He must; he is sure to be,” I said half-aloud. “Even if he were not there, father would know how I should be pressed for food, and be there himself.”This was an encouraging and cheering thought; and, inspired with fresh hope, I rode on, wondering that, though the veldt looked so unpromising, some one had not taken up land, if only in the hope of finding minerals where the soil forbade the fruits of fertile earth; but no. All was barren and strange; even the granite blocks and kops were rare, and I looked still in vain for some sign of human habitation, some track of wheel or print of foot. The last I did begin to see now; but they were not the prints of ironshod hoofs, only those of antelopes, large and small, and not too frequent. Still, here was sign; and as I looked more closely I twice saw the soft round prints of the great sand-coloured cats, and my eyes began now to roam afield in the expectation of perhaps seeing those which had made the marks. No; the open valley that twenty or thirty years earlier might have been alive with game was absolutely desolate; not one of the vast herds which used to roam there, as the old Boers had often told me, was to be seen.There was nothing whatever to break the long slopes of sand-coloured soil.Ah! what was that on the ridge to my left, which ran down till it lost itself in the open bottom of the valley along which Sandho gently cantered? Some white-feathered and familiar birds, displaying their soft plumes, which looked ostrich-like in the distance. What could it be? I knew no bird, in spite of my wanderings, that ever looked like that. Still, a bird was a bird, and game, and the thought of game at such a time was glorious; but my spirits sank again, for I had no weapon, and then the grapes seemed to be sour.“It isn’t a bird; only a feather or two dropped by some old cock ostrich,” I said aloud.No. The feathers began to rise from the edge of the ridge, and there was a black face beneath them, then the broad breast, and finally the full figure of a stalwart Kaffir warrior, his thin arms and ankles ornamented with wool, his savage panoply of shield and assagai in his left hand, and his eyes shaded by his right hand, which cut straight across his forehead just below the fillet holding the three white ostrich feathers. He was evidently watching me.

As I moved it moved too; and I dimly saw the outstretched head and body, as I supposed, of a monstrous lion about to spring, when, the fire having flashed up more brightly, I uttered a gasp of relief. It was Sandho, who had come quietly up to the fire for company and protection.

I worked the harder then, and kept on hour after hour, having to take longer and longer journeys as I exhausted the supply close at hand; and all the time I was perfectly conscious that lions were near, prowling round our little apology for a camp so as to spring upon the horse and pull him down. Every time I started for more fuel I expected to hear a roar and feel one of the savage creatures spring upon me; but the night wore on, with the fire giving a steadier glow as the time passed. I suppose the fact of my keeping up a hurried movement, making a desperate rush here and there, with the light from the fire throwing up my figure plainly, was too much for the great cats, and they feared to attack. Whatever it was, they were kept at bay; and daybreak found me thoroughly exhausted, the last growl having died out, the light showing the great soft footprints of our enemies round and round the clump of bushes, crossing and recrossing, and suggesting that there had been a party of four—an old lioness and her nearly full-grown cubs.

It was a narrow escape; and, as if only too glad to get away from so dangerous a spot, Sandho so fidgeted to start that I had hard work to secure the broken end of his rein to the ring of the bit without shortening it so much that I could not hold it in my hand.

I took a good look round, however, before starting, and it was well I did so, for, clearly seen now in the level sunbeams away to the north, there was a party of horsemen riding in my direction, and discovery seemed certain, even if I had not already been seen.

My first idea was to spring into the saddle and gallop off; but I was in no condition for springing into my saddle. Crippled as I was, it meant a slow and painful climb, and then in all probability the utmost I could do would be to walk my horse slowly away.

To mount, lie down, and urge the horse round to the back of the clump of bushes which had formed my shelter during the past night, and then cautiously strike off straight away towards the mountains at a walk, doing my best to keep the shelter of scrub between me and the enemy, seemed the wiser plan, and this I put into execution.

I had several things in my favour by doing this: the distance between me and the horsemen was great; and I felt certain that, if it were a portion of the captain’s troop, they had no glass of any kind. If they caught sight of me in making my retreat, they would only fancy they saw the figure of some peculiar, humpbacked-looking animal; and on making for the mountains my position upon Sandho’s back would never lead them to suppose it was a horse bearing a rider. This supposition, too, would be helped by the fact that there were still little herds and single wanderers, the relics of the vast hosts of antelopes of various species, from the tiny gazelle-like animals up through the clumsy hartebeeste and wildebeeste to the huge eland; and at a distance I felt it possible that myself and steed might be taken for one of these.

While thinking thus, and going through a painful struggle to get upon my horse properly, it seemed to me that the party were visibly coming nearer; but, hidden as we were by the bushes, I could see, from where I lay on my horse’s back, as I turned my eyes in their direction, that so far I was not discovered. The crucial test, however, was yet to come; for, though I could keep Sandho out of sight for half a mile possibly, the land was gradually rising, and in that distance or less, I knew, we should stand out plainly in the clear air. Then, if seen, suffer what I might, I was determined to urge my horse on to his greatest speed, leaving the rest to fate.

I had no trouble with my well-trained steed, which obeyed every word or pressure; and with eyes so turned that I could keep the bush between us, I guided Sandho on till, as I had anticipated, the party of mounted men came gradually into view—first only the men, but soon after their horses. So far, they were going only at a walk, to pass the track diagonally to my course and some distance away.

As they were so visible, I felt they must soon see me, and tried hard to efface myself as much as possible, knowing that my dusky-brownish, homespun breeches, flannel shirt, and tanned high boots must assimilate well with the coat of my chestnut horse, and this cheered me a little.

Then, suddenly, I knew I was seen, for one of the men drew rein, letting the others go on a few horse-lengths before; and, as if in answer to a summons from the man behind, the rest of the party halted and sat gazing in my direction.

The next minute the man who had halted by himself now dismounted, and I saw a gleaming light glance from where he stood and then dropped down. It was too far off for me to see distinctly; but knowledge supplied what my eyes failed to grasp, and I knew the gleam was from his rifle-barrel reflecting the sun’s rays, and the man’s attitude that of one about to try a long shot at the uncouth animal in view beyond the thorny scrub.

There is an old-fashioned saying about people’s feelings in critical moments: that their hearts stood still. Now, I don’t believe for a moment that mine ceased to beat; but it certainly felt as if it did, while I lay rising and falling, yielding to Sandho’s movements, and gazing straight back at the little hole which I knew must be pointed straight at me—invisible, of course; but the little puff of white smoke which suddenly jetted into the air was plain enough to my eyes, and so was the peculiar buzzing sound to my ears as the bullet passed over me like some strange bee in a violent hurry to reach its hive. Then came the sharp crack as of a sjambok wielded by a strong and well-accustomed arm.

“A miss, and no wonder!” I exclaimed; and I suppose I must have started and given Sandho a familiar pressure, or else it was the instinct of self-preservation at work in the sensible animal, for he suddenly made a bound forward so unexpectedly that I was nearly unseated; but my arms were now free, and, reaching down and getting tight hold of his leathern breastplate, I held on and let him go. The instinct of self-preservation was also strongly to the fore in me, and I lay fully expecting to hear the whizzing of half-a-dozen more bullets and the cracking of the rifles, since naturally I could see nothing then, my face lying against the horse’s neck, as he bounded on at an easy gallop.

Were the enemy in pursuit?

I strained my hearing, but I could make out nothing more than the regular beat of my horse’s hoofs; while, as no shots came, I felt certain they had made out my figure and were coming on in full chase.

“They’ll have a long one,” I thought; for, though I was in great pain, I found, to my intense delight, that I could accommodate myself to Sandho’s long swinging gallop as he spurned the soft loose earth behind him, the ascent being exceedingly slight; and we were progressing in a series of antelope-like bounds.

At last, after galloping for quite ten minutes, something in front made Sandho swerve round to the left; and, before raising my head to see what it was, I turned my face sidewise so as to get a glance back at my pursuers, and could hardly believe my eyes when I saw that no Boers were there. It was not until I raised my head a little to gaze back in the other direction that I could see them far away in the distance, evidently pursuing the course they had followed before the incidents of the halt and shot occurred.

Now I held on tightly and raised my head, endeavouring to make out why my horse had swerved. There it was plain enough: another of the stony kops which rose up to block our way had forced him to gallop along the unencumbered ground at the foot of a great line of hills, beyond which was the peak I had marked down as being in the neighbourhood of Echo Nek.

Unfortunately the land here was all strange to me, my journeys never having led me so far on this side of the mountains. Still, I felt I must be going in the direction of the Nek, and that sooner or later I should come to some valley into which I could strike off to the right, and get through and round by the peak beyond which I now certainly believed Echo Nek must be.

I made no effort to check Sandho, who was keeping on nearly level ground, but now raised myself upright in the saddle to watch for that which I had forgotten during the time I was in danger, but now that I was comparatively safe seemed to be the very first thing I should seek.

Many hours had now passed since, I had broken my fast; and at eighteen the desire for food is a tyrant against which no growing boy or young man can fight. But no. To my right were the rugged, barren hills undotted by bullock or sheep; to the left a far-spreading stretch of unfertile veldt; and though I cantered on for another full hour not a homestead came into sight.

At last, however, I saw a break in the continuous ridge of hills on my right, and eased Sandho down into his gentle amble, not willing to press him hard, for I knew that at any minute I might be obliged to urge him to his greatest speed.

In another half-hour we were bearing off to the right, for the hills had opened into a broad valley, at the head of which the great peak I had seen now rose up as if to block the way; and in spite of my hunger I felt lighter-hearted, for I was getting sure of my bearings. Yes, there beyond the shoulder of the peak was the crag just below which lay Echo Nek only a few miles away, not more than an hour’s canter along the fairly even valley, and then— Oh, if Joeboy should not be there!

“He must; he is sure to be,” I said half-aloud. “Even if he were not there, father would know how I should be pressed for food, and be there himself.”

This was an encouraging and cheering thought; and, inspired with fresh hope, I rode on, wondering that, though the veldt looked so unpromising, some one had not taken up land, if only in the hope of finding minerals where the soil forbade the fruits of fertile earth; but no. All was barren and strange; even the granite blocks and kops were rare, and I looked still in vain for some sign of human habitation, some track of wheel or print of foot. The last I did begin to see now; but they were not the prints of ironshod hoofs, only those of antelopes, large and small, and not too frequent. Still, here was sign; and as I looked more closely I twice saw the soft round prints of the great sand-coloured cats, and my eyes began now to roam afield in the expectation of perhaps seeing those which had made the marks. No; the open valley that twenty or thirty years earlier might have been alive with game was absolutely desolate; not one of the vast herds which used to roam there, as the old Boers had often told me, was to be seen.

There was nothing whatever to break the long slopes of sand-coloured soil.

Ah! what was that on the ridge to my left, which ran down till it lost itself in the open bottom of the valley along which Sandho gently cantered? Some white-feathered and familiar birds, displaying their soft plumes, which looked ostrich-like in the distance. What could it be? I knew no bird, in spite of my wanderings, that ever looked like that. Still, a bird was a bird, and game, and the thought of game at such a time was glorious; but my spirits sank again, for I had no weapon, and then the grapes seemed to be sour.

“It isn’t a bird; only a feather or two dropped by some old cock ostrich,” I said aloud.

No. The feathers began to rise from the edge of the ridge, and there was a black face beneath them, then the broad breast, and finally the full figure of a stalwart Kaffir warrior, his thin arms and ankles ornamented with wool, his savage panoply of shield and assagai in his left hand, and his eyes shaded by his right hand, which cut straight across his forehead just below the fillet holding the three white ostrich feathers. He was evidently watching me.

Chapter Eight.Perils Which Grow.Upon making out what was before me, the little I had heard about the war rushed across my mind, and I saw at once that, catching the infection, at least one of the native tribes which had been disarmed, and were previously living at peace, had broken out, seizing the opportunity of their Dutch and English masters being at enmity to take one side or the other, possibly with some vague idea that they would thus regain their independence.What this warrior might be I could not tell at a distance, for he might prove a Zulu still smarting under the defeat inflicted upon his nation by the British, or a Swazi who bitterly hated the Boers for their brutal treatment during the past.I felt I ought to be able to tell at once by his appearance; but my knowledge was, after all, imperfect, and I certainly could not at a distance make out to what nation the man belonged.I had not long time for consideration, as Sandho was steadily carrying me nearer; but I decided to go as close as I could without getting within range of an assagai; for it was worth some risk to get in touch with a friendly native in my emergency, since I knew he would try all he could to furnish me with food.So I rode slowly on, straining my eyes the while to scan the various points in his slight dress, but keeping a sharp lookout right and left to make sure that his companions, if he had any, were not, after their fashion, crawling along under cover to outflank me. However, all seemed safe, for there was no cover on either side; but below the black warrior, and behind the ridge, there was ample space for a couple of hundred of his kin to be lying out of sight, ready at a signal to spring up and make a furious onslaught.“And turn me into a sort of human pin-cushion, which they would fill with their assagais,” I said half-aloud. “That wouldn’t do, Sandho, old boy; so be ready to gallop off when I pull your rein.”My horse threw up his head and laid back his ears, beginning to bound off at once; but I checked him.“Not yet, old boy; not yet. When I give the word you must make a half-turn, and we must try and circumvent them—if it is them, and not only one.—How near dare I go?” I asked myself; and I decided that forty yards would be as far as I ought to venture, being of course well on thequi vive.The black—Swazi or Zulu—looked a terribly formidable enemy as he stood above me, clearly seen against the sky, and I was beginning to feel that I must not go much farther; but I was still in the dark as to what he might be, friend or enemy, when he mystified me still further by suddenly striking an attitude, standing as if suddenly turned into a bronze figure defying some one on his right. Directly after, he dashed into a kind of war-dance, advancing, retreating, throwing imaginary assagais at invisible foes, and then coming apparently to close quarters, screening his body with his long elliptic shield, and stabbing away at men standing and others falling all around.I need hardly say I drew rein at once and sat ready to urge Sandho to his greatest speed at a moment’s notice, for I felt that these evolutions might either mean defiance and a display of what he would do to me when I came within reach, or a feint to show his friendliness.I cast the latter idea aside at once, and came to the conclusion that my warlike gentleman was on the watch for an opportunity to dash in after throwing me off my guard, and then I knew only too well what would happen—that which had befallen many an unfortunate settler in the past: a couple of small assagais darted at him like lightning, and the thrower rushing in after them with his stabbing weapon, followed by the fatal termination.Still the grotesque dance went on, yet I felt pretty safe, for I was fully fifty yards distant, and had often proved Sandho in encounters with wild beasts; so I had no doubt of getting away in time when the savage made his rush which was certainly coming, as I saw the lithe actor was gradually working himself up to a sufficient pitch of excitement. His eyes were rolling, his powerful black limbs shone, and he darted here and there, leaping in the air to deliver some thrust with greater effect, and generally carrying on in a way that would have made me burst into a hearty fit of contemptuous laughter at the childish exhibition, evidently meant to impress me with the fellow’s great bravery, had there not been, as I well knew, so terribly bloodthirsty an element beneath it all.“There, Sandho,” I said softly as I leaned forward to stroke my horse’s soft arching neck, “I think we’ve had enough of the idiot’s nonsense, and we’ll go.”I was in the act of saying these words, keenly watching all round for danger, as well as beyond the bounding black in the full expectation of catching sight at any moment of the plumed heads of a party of his companions rising above the ridge, when, as if in a final effort or an attempt at a climax to the weirdly absurd performance, the black warrior proceeded to finish off with the slaying of about a dozen invisible enemies around him. Bang went his stabbing assagai against hisshield, and thenstab, stab, stab, when he turned upon his feet as if upon a pivot, darting his weapon as if he were some fierce creature armed with a terrible sting. I seemed to see in imagination an enemy go down at every thrust; a strange thrill of horror ran through me, and an awful kind of fascination held me seated there on my horse, as the black warrior stabbed away till his back was completely turned to me and he delivered a tremendous thrust, uttering a horrible yell. Then I burst out into a hysterical peal of laughter, and nearly fell out of the saddle.Why? Because never was anything more absurd. The warrior’s face was averted, and the long elliptically-shaped shield no longer covered the greater part of his person; and though I had failed in recognition before, I knew him now by the tremendously cut-down trousers he wore.“Go on, Sandho,” I said, and my horse walked gently forward, while the actor gave three or four more thrusts to kill the rest of the dozen invisible enemies, bringing himself face to face with me; and after leaping high in the air, uttering a triumphant yell, he grinned at me from ear to ear, as he breathlessly cried:“’At’s a way kill um all, Boss Val.”For it was Joeboy on the war-path, ready in his own opinion to slay all the Boers in the state.

Upon making out what was before me, the little I had heard about the war rushed across my mind, and I saw at once that, catching the infection, at least one of the native tribes which had been disarmed, and were previously living at peace, had broken out, seizing the opportunity of their Dutch and English masters being at enmity to take one side or the other, possibly with some vague idea that they would thus regain their independence.

What this warrior might be I could not tell at a distance, for he might prove a Zulu still smarting under the defeat inflicted upon his nation by the British, or a Swazi who bitterly hated the Boers for their brutal treatment during the past.

I felt I ought to be able to tell at once by his appearance; but my knowledge was, after all, imperfect, and I certainly could not at a distance make out to what nation the man belonged.

I had not long time for consideration, as Sandho was steadily carrying me nearer; but I decided to go as close as I could without getting within range of an assagai; for it was worth some risk to get in touch with a friendly native in my emergency, since I knew he would try all he could to furnish me with food.

So I rode slowly on, straining my eyes the while to scan the various points in his slight dress, but keeping a sharp lookout right and left to make sure that his companions, if he had any, were not, after their fashion, crawling along under cover to outflank me. However, all seemed safe, for there was no cover on either side; but below the black warrior, and behind the ridge, there was ample space for a couple of hundred of his kin to be lying out of sight, ready at a signal to spring up and make a furious onslaught.

“And turn me into a sort of human pin-cushion, which they would fill with their assagais,” I said half-aloud. “That wouldn’t do, Sandho, old boy; so be ready to gallop off when I pull your rein.”

My horse threw up his head and laid back his ears, beginning to bound off at once; but I checked him.

“Not yet, old boy; not yet. When I give the word you must make a half-turn, and we must try and circumvent them—if it is them, and not only one.—How near dare I go?” I asked myself; and I decided that forty yards would be as far as I ought to venture, being of course well on thequi vive.

The black—Swazi or Zulu—looked a terribly formidable enemy as he stood above me, clearly seen against the sky, and I was beginning to feel that I must not go much farther; but I was still in the dark as to what he might be, friend or enemy, when he mystified me still further by suddenly striking an attitude, standing as if suddenly turned into a bronze figure defying some one on his right. Directly after, he dashed into a kind of war-dance, advancing, retreating, throwing imaginary assagais at invisible foes, and then coming apparently to close quarters, screening his body with his long elliptic shield, and stabbing away at men standing and others falling all around.

I need hardly say I drew rein at once and sat ready to urge Sandho to his greatest speed at a moment’s notice, for I felt that these evolutions might either mean defiance and a display of what he would do to me when I came within reach, or a feint to show his friendliness.

I cast the latter idea aside at once, and came to the conclusion that my warlike gentleman was on the watch for an opportunity to dash in after throwing me off my guard, and then I knew only too well what would happen—that which had befallen many an unfortunate settler in the past: a couple of small assagais darted at him like lightning, and the thrower rushing in after them with his stabbing weapon, followed by the fatal termination.

Still the grotesque dance went on, yet I felt pretty safe, for I was fully fifty yards distant, and had often proved Sandho in encounters with wild beasts; so I had no doubt of getting away in time when the savage made his rush which was certainly coming, as I saw the lithe actor was gradually working himself up to a sufficient pitch of excitement. His eyes were rolling, his powerful black limbs shone, and he darted here and there, leaping in the air to deliver some thrust with greater effect, and generally carrying on in a way that would have made me burst into a hearty fit of contemptuous laughter at the childish exhibition, evidently meant to impress me with the fellow’s great bravery, had there not been, as I well knew, so terribly bloodthirsty an element beneath it all.

“There, Sandho,” I said softly as I leaned forward to stroke my horse’s soft arching neck, “I think we’ve had enough of the idiot’s nonsense, and we’ll go.”

I was in the act of saying these words, keenly watching all round for danger, as well as beyond the bounding black in the full expectation of catching sight at any moment of the plumed heads of a party of his companions rising above the ridge, when, as if in a final effort or an attempt at a climax to the weirdly absurd performance, the black warrior proceeded to finish off with the slaying of about a dozen invisible enemies around him. Bang went his stabbing assagai against hisshield, and thenstab, stab, stab, when he turned upon his feet as if upon a pivot, darting his weapon as if he were some fierce creature armed with a terrible sting. I seemed to see in imagination an enemy go down at every thrust; a strange thrill of horror ran through me, and an awful kind of fascination held me seated there on my horse, as the black warrior stabbed away till his back was completely turned to me and he delivered a tremendous thrust, uttering a horrible yell. Then I burst out into a hysterical peal of laughter, and nearly fell out of the saddle.

Why? Because never was anything more absurd. The warrior’s face was averted, and the long elliptically-shaped shield no longer covered the greater part of his person; and though I had failed in recognition before, I knew him now by the tremendously cut-down trousers he wore.

“Go on, Sandho,” I said, and my horse walked gently forward, while the actor gave three or four more thrusts to kill the rest of the dozen invisible enemies, bringing himself face to face with me; and after leaping high in the air, uttering a triumphant yell, he grinned at me from ear to ear, as he breathlessly cried:

“’At’s a way kill um all, Boss Val.”

For it was Joeboy on the war-path, ready in his own opinion to slay all the Boers in the state.

Chapter Nine.The Friend In Need.“Why, Joeboy,” I cried, wiping my eyes, “you’re splendid. But where’s Echo Nek?”“Dah!” he said, pointing behind him with the dangerous-looking assagai he carried.“Did you see me coming?”He nodded, it being one of his habits to say as little in English as he could.“Tell me: have you got anything to eat?” I said. “I’m starving.”He darted back to the other side of the ridge, and came back with the strap of a big canvas satchel over his shoulder, the bag-part looking bulky in the extreme.“Um Tant Jenny,” he said, frowning, as he shook the satchel, and then proceeded to scrape off with the blade of his stabbing-assagai the large ants which had scented the contents and were swarming to the attack. “Is there any water near?” I asked.“Um,” said Joeboy, pointing towards the other side of the ridge.“Then there will be grass too,” I said. “Go on, and show the way. Quick!”The great black nodded and went off at a trot, taking me over the ridge and down a steep slope into a large gap in the side of the hill; and a quarter of an hour later we were alongside a bubbling stream, where long, rich, juicy grass grew in abundance.Directly after Sandho was grazing contentedly; and when I had drunk from the pure fresh water, I was devouring rather than eating the magnified salt-beef sandwiches of which the satchel contained ample store, while Joeboy grinned to see the way in which one disappeared.“Catch hold,” I said, pushing a great sandwich towards my black companion; but he shook his head and shrank away.“Tant Jenny say all young Boss Val,” he said, and then he laughed and displayed a large packet carefully fastened to the inside of his shield. This packet he opened, took out a sandwich similar to mine, then squatted down and began to eat.“Joeboy had plenty yes’day,” he said, and he gave his front a circular rub as if to suggest that it was still fairly stored, after which he went on munching slowly as if to keep me company.“Now,” I said after eating a few mouthfuls, “what did my father say?”“Big Boss say Joeboy go Echo Nek. Stop till son Val come.”“Is that all?” I said wonderingly.“Yes; all Boss say.”As he spoke, however, Joeboy laid his sandwich upon the shield beside him, and then began to fumble behind him in the band of his cut-down trousers, out of a leopard-skin pocket attached to which he drew a packet of common leather tied up with a slip of the same.I opened the leather packet with trembling fingers, and found a letter, which I eagerly read:“Dear Val,—I take it for granted, my boy, that you will escape from those ruffians and be lying in wait for my message. I find, though, that Joeboy is missing, and if he does not return I shall have to come and meet you myself, and then I can tell you what to do. I will, however, write this in the hope that I can send it, as I do not want to leave your aunt and Bob, for there is much to do, burying and hiding a few valuables in case we are ever able to come back.”“Oh!” I exclaimed, and Joeboy half-sprang to his feet, but subsided as I went on:“War has broken out, the Boers having defied the British Government. It has, of course, all been a surprise to me; but the news is coming in fast. Hodson has been here, and he tells me the English are all receiving orders to go. It is ruin to us, and after making such a home; but, God help us! we must do our best.“Of course you cannot serve against your own countrymen, and I don’t like your having anything to do with the horrible business; but if you feel that you must join in with our people and act as a volunteer against what is a cruel tyranny, I know you will act like a man.“I can write no more, and Heaven knows when we may meet again. I shall make for Natal, of course, with as much as I can save out of the wreck—that is, as much as the enemy will let me carry off. Perhaps, though, that will be nothing; and I must be content with getting away with our lives, for I hear that the blacks are getting uneasy, as if they smelt blood; and Heaven knows what may happen if they break out, for the white man is their natural enemy in their eyes, and, friends now, they may be our foes to-morrow.“God bless and protect you, my boy! Aunt Jenny’s dear love to you, and she is going to help me to hold Bob in, for the young dog is mad to come after you.“Your father, in the dear old home he is about to quit, perhaps for ever.“John Moray.“PS:—Good news, my boy. Joeboy has just come back, in full fighting fig. He will bring this, and some provision for a day or two. I feel sure you may trust him. He has been showing me what he would do to any one who tried to hurt young Boss Val. He is like a big child; but he is true as steel. Good-bye.“Heaven be with you, my boy!”That last line was in Aunt Jenny’s handwriting, and there were big blotches on the paper where the ink had run, and over them came a few lines in Bob’s clumsy hand:“Val, old chap, the dad says I’m not to come along with Joeboy to join. I told him it was a shame, for I felt in a passion, and he knocked me down.“That’s only my larks. He did knock me down, but not with his fist or the handle of a— I don’t know how you spell it; but I mean chambock. He knocked me over with what he said. He told me it was my duty to stop and help him and auntie. He might want me to fight for him and her. If he does, I’ll shove in two cartridges—I mean only one bullet; and I don’t care if the old rifle kicks till she breaks my collar-bone. I mean to let the Boers have it for coming and upsetting us. I never knew how nice dear old home was before. Old—”That was the bottom of the paper; but upon turning it over, there at the very top on the other side, and in the left-hand corner above the word “Val,” where my father had begun, was the word “Beasts,” which I had passed over unnoticed as being part of some memorandum on the paper when my father took it up hurriedly to write.I always was a weak, emotional sort of fellow—perhaps it was due to the climate, and my having had the fever when we first came there—and the writing looked very dim and blurry before my eyes; and yet I felt inclined to laugh over what Bob had scribbled. I did laugh when my eyes grew clear again, for Bob had, apparently at the last, taken up the pen to write along the edge of the paper, and so badly that it was hard to read:“I say, Joeboy looks fizzing. He’s been oiling himself over to make him go easy, and sharpening his saygays with the scythe-rubber.”“And so there’s to be no more home,” I said softly as I carefully folded up the paper and placed it in my breast. Then somehow the terrible feeling of hunger died out, and I only drank some more water.“Boss Val eat lot,” said Joeboy, his voice making me start.“No more, now, Joeboy,” I said. “I’ll wait a bit.”“Wait a bit,” he said, nodding his head, and then carefully replacing what I had left in the satchel.“Fasten that to the back of my saddle,” I said.“Um! Joeboy carry.”“No, no,” I replied. “We must part now, Joeboy. I can’t go back home, nor stay here.”Joeboy shook his head.“No stop,” he said. “All bad.”“You don’t understand,” I said.“Um!” he said, nodding. “Joeboy know. Boss Val fight Boers.”“Perhaps; but you must go back and help my father if he has to leave the farm.”There was another shake of the head and a frown; then a silence, during which the great black seemed to be thinking out what he was to say in English to make his meaning clear. At last it came as he sat there with his shield on one side, his assagais on the other; and, to my surprise, he took up the big stabbing weapon and one of the light throwing-shafts before touching me on the chest with a finger.“Boss John big boss,” he said solemnly. “Boss Val little boss;” and he held up the two spears to illustrate his words. “Big boss say, ‘Go ’long my boy.’ Little boss say, ‘Go ’long my dad.’ Joeboy say, ‘Don’t car’; shan’t go. Got to go ’long Boss Val.’”“My father told you this?”“Um!” said the great fellow; “dat’s all right.”“But you would be so much use to my father, Joe, to manage the bullocks in the wagon.”“No,” he said. “No bullock. Boer boy take ’em all away. Boss John no got nothing soon.”“You are sure my father said you were to go with me, Joeboy?” I said after a few minutes’ pause.“Um,” he said, nodding his head fiercely. “Say, ‘Take care my boy, Joeboy.’ Joeboy take care Boss Val.”He caught up his shield and sprang to his feet, with the assagais trembling in his big hand, looking as if he could be a terrible adversary in a close conflict, though helpless against modern weapons of war.This thought made me think of myself and my own position.“Very well, Joeboy. I say you shall come with me.”He nodded.“But you’ll have to lend me one of your assagais till I can get a rifle.”“Boss Val got rifle gun,” he said sharply.“Where? No; I have only my knife.”Joeboy laughed, and ran to the side of the rift, where he began to scratch in the sand, and a few inches down laid bare the muzzle of my rifle, gave it a tug, and it came out with the well-filled bandolier attached.I caught at it with a cry of eager joy, and began to carefully dust away every particle of sand that clung to it before slipping on the belt, forgetting the aching pains in my wrists and left leg, as something like a glow of confidence ran through me. Then came back the thought of home, with its smiling fields, orchard, and garden around the house we had raised upon the land won from the wilderness; and the thought that I was to be exiled from it all in consequence of this war; and the injustice of the Boers raised a spirit of anger against them which helped me to pull myself together and frowningly resolve to prove myself a man.“Action, action,” I muttered. “I should have liked to go back and see them all again; but I must begin at once, before I am taken. What would they do with me?” I said aloud; and a glance at Joeboy’s face showed me that, awkward though he was at speaking, he comprehended every word I had said.“Big Boss Boer,” he said, nodding, “say Boss Val come fight. No Boss Val fight?Whish, whish, whish, crack, cruck!”He went through the movement of one wielding a bullock-lash, and imitated the sound it made through the air and the loud cracking when it struck home upon quivering flesh. Then he went on, “Boss Val no fight now!Bang, bang!”“Flog me the first time I refuse, Joeboy, and shoot me the next time.”“Um.”“Well, then, we will not give them the chance.”Joeboy shook his head violently.“What Joeboy do now, Boss?”“Rub my wrists, Joeboy,” I said, stripping up my sleeves and showing him their bruised state and my swollen arms.He understood why they were so, and took first one and then the other in his big soft grey palms, to mould and knead and rub them with untiring patience for long enough, the effect being pleasurable in the extreme.But I checked him when he was in the midst of it, and pointed to my leg.“Boer tie up leg?” he said wonderingly.I explained what was wrong, and he knelt before me, carefully removing my laced-up boot, and giving me sickening pain as he drew off my coarse home-knitted stocking, to lay bare the wrenched and swollen foot and ankle.“Um!” he said. “Boss Val come to water.”He lifted me to the edge of the stream as easily as if I had been a child, and when I sat down, carefully bathed the joint for fully half-an-hour, dried it by pouring sand over it again and again, and then as tenderly as a woman replaced stocking and boot, which latter he laced very loosely.“Boss Val go one leg when off Sandho.”“Yes, Joeboy,” I said; “but it will soon get better.”“Um!” he said, and he looked at me inquiringly, as if for orders.“Now we must be off, Joeboy, before the Boers hunt me out.”“Um!” he said, in token of assent; and upon my calling Sandho to my side Joeboy helped me to mount, securing the satchel to my saddle in obedience to my orders; and, making for Echo Nek, we went steadily on, my intention being to get through the pass and some distance on the other side towards the Natal border before dark.“We shall know the road better there, Joeboy,” I said after we had been walking some time; “it all seems strange to me here.”“Joeboy know,” he said.“What! the way about here?” I said, in surprise. “When did you come?”“Long while,” he replied. “Lost bullock. Come here.”“Oh!”—then I remembered. “Of course. You were gone a fortnight.”“Um!” said Joeboy.“And my father thought you had run away, and that we should never see you again.”“How Joeboy run away? Bullock no run. Run other way.”“Yes,” I said, laughing; “they are always ready to go in the wrong direction. Do you know”—I was going to say something about the rising of one of the rivers up in the mountains somewhere near, but I stopped short, for my companion suddenly darted to Sandho’s head and pressed him sidewise towards a pile of rocks which offered plenty of shelter from anything in front.“What is it, Joeboy?” I said. “A good shot at something?”For answer he pointed upward at the rocks beside the pass which went by the name of Echo Nek—the place which we had nearly reached, this great gap in the mountains being the only spot for many miles on either side where a horse could cross. As to wagons, a far greater détour was necessary to find a road.I looked in the direction he pointed out, but for some moments I could see nothing. Then a faint gleam from something moving gave me warning of what had taken place, and directly after I caught sight of the bearer of the rifle from whose barrel the sunlight had flashed.

“Why, Joeboy,” I cried, wiping my eyes, “you’re splendid. But where’s Echo Nek?”

“Dah!” he said, pointing behind him with the dangerous-looking assagai he carried.

“Did you see me coming?”

He nodded, it being one of his habits to say as little in English as he could.

“Tell me: have you got anything to eat?” I said. “I’m starving.”

He darted back to the other side of the ridge, and came back with the strap of a big canvas satchel over his shoulder, the bag-part looking bulky in the extreme.

“Um Tant Jenny,” he said, frowning, as he shook the satchel, and then proceeded to scrape off with the blade of his stabbing-assagai the large ants which had scented the contents and were swarming to the attack. “Is there any water near?” I asked.

“Um,” said Joeboy, pointing towards the other side of the ridge.

“Then there will be grass too,” I said. “Go on, and show the way. Quick!”

The great black nodded and went off at a trot, taking me over the ridge and down a steep slope into a large gap in the side of the hill; and a quarter of an hour later we were alongside a bubbling stream, where long, rich, juicy grass grew in abundance.

Directly after Sandho was grazing contentedly; and when I had drunk from the pure fresh water, I was devouring rather than eating the magnified salt-beef sandwiches of which the satchel contained ample store, while Joeboy grinned to see the way in which one disappeared.

“Catch hold,” I said, pushing a great sandwich towards my black companion; but he shook his head and shrank away.

“Tant Jenny say all young Boss Val,” he said, and then he laughed and displayed a large packet carefully fastened to the inside of his shield. This packet he opened, took out a sandwich similar to mine, then squatted down and began to eat.

“Joeboy had plenty yes’day,” he said, and he gave his front a circular rub as if to suggest that it was still fairly stored, after which he went on munching slowly as if to keep me company.

“Now,” I said after eating a few mouthfuls, “what did my father say?”

“Big Boss say Joeboy go Echo Nek. Stop till son Val come.”

“Is that all?” I said wonderingly.

“Yes; all Boss say.”

As he spoke, however, Joeboy laid his sandwich upon the shield beside him, and then began to fumble behind him in the band of his cut-down trousers, out of a leopard-skin pocket attached to which he drew a packet of common leather tied up with a slip of the same.

I opened the leather packet with trembling fingers, and found a letter, which I eagerly read:

“Dear Val,—I take it for granted, my boy, that you will escape from those ruffians and be lying in wait for my message. I find, though, that Joeboy is missing, and if he does not return I shall have to come and meet you myself, and then I can tell you what to do. I will, however, write this in the hope that I can send it, as I do not want to leave your aunt and Bob, for there is much to do, burying and hiding a few valuables in case we are ever able to come back.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, and Joeboy half-sprang to his feet, but subsided as I went on:

“War has broken out, the Boers having defied the British Government. It has, of course, all been a surprise to me; but the news is coming in fast. Hodson has been here, and he tells me the English are all receiving orders to go. It is ruin to us, and after making such a home; but, God help us! we must do our best.

“Of course you cannot serve against your own countrymen, and I don’t like your having anything to do with the horrible business; but if you feel that you must join in with our people and act as a volunteer against what is a cruel tyranny, I know you will act like a man.

“I can write no more, and Heaven knows when we may meet again. I shall make for Natal, of course, with as much as I can save out of the wreck—that is, as much as the enemy will let me carry off. Perhaps, though, that will be nothing; and I must be content with getting away with our lives, for I hear that the blacks are getting uneasy, as if they smelt blood; and Heaven knows what may happen if they break out, for the white man is their natural enemy in their eyes, and, friends now, they may be our foes to-morrow.

“God bless and protect you, my boy! Aunt Jenny’s dear love to you, and she is going to help me to hold Bob in, for the young dog is mad to come after you.

“Your father, in the dear old home he is about to quit, perhaps for ever.

“John Moray.

“PS:—Good news, my boy. Joeboy has just come back, in full fighting fig. He will bring this, and some provision for a day or two. I feel sure you may trust him. He has been showing me what he would do to any one who tried to hurt young Boss Val. He is like a big child; but he is true as steel. Good-bye.

“Heaven be with you, my boy!”

That last line was in Aunt Jenny’s handwriting, and there were big blotches on the paper where the ink had run, and over them came a few lines in Bob’s clumsy hand:

“Val, old chap, the dad says I’m not to come along with Joeboy to join. I told him it was a shame, for I felt in a passion, and he knocked me down.

“That’s only my larks. He did knock me down, but not with his fist or the handle of a— I don’t know how you spell it; but I mean chambock. He knocked me over with what he said. He told me it was my duty to stop and help him and auntie. He might want me to fight for him and her. If he does, I’ll shove in two cartridges—I mean only one bullet; and I don’t care if the old rifle kicks till she breaks my collar-bone. I mean to let the Boers have it for coming and upsetting us. I never knew how nice dear old home was before. Old—”

That was the bottom of the paper; but upon turning it over, there at the very top on the other side, and in the left-hand corner above the word “Val,” where my father had begun, was the word “Beasts,” which I had passed over unnoticed as being part of some memorandum on the paper when my father took it up hurriedly to write.

I always was a weak, emotional sort of fellow—perhaps it was due to the climate, and my having had the fever when we first came there—and the writing looked very dim and blurry before my eyes; and yet I felt inclined to laugh over what Bob had scribbled. I did laugh when my eyes grew clear again, for Bob had, apparently at the last, taken up the pen to write along the edge of the paper, and so badly that it was hard to read:

“I say, Joeboy looks fizzing. He’s been oiling himself over to make him go easy, and sharpening his saygays with the scythe-rubber.”

“And so there’s to be no more home,” I said softly as I carefully folded up the paper and placed it in my breast. Then somehow the terrible feeling of hunger died out, and I only drank some more water.

“Boss Val eat lot,” said Joeboy, his voice making me start.

“No more, now, Joeboy,” I said. “I’ll wait a bit.”

“Wait a bit,” he said, nodding his head, and then carefully replacing what I had left in the satchel.

“Fasten that to the back of my saddle,” I said.

“Um! Joeboy carry.”

“No, no,” I replied. “We must part now, Joeboy. I can’t go back home, nor stay here.”

Joeboy shook his head.

“No stop,” he said. “All bad.”

“You don’t understand,” I said.

“Um!” he said, nodding. “Joeboy know. Boss Val fight Boers.”

“Perhaps; but you must go back and help my father if he has to leave the farm.”

There was another shake of the head and a frown; then a silence, during which the great black seemed to be thinking out what he was to say in English to make his meaning clear. At last it came as he sat there with his shield on one side, his assagais on the other; and, to my surprise, he took up the big stabbing weapon and one of the light throwing-shafts before touching me on the chest with a finger.

“Boss John big boss,” he said solemnly. “Boss Val little boss;” and he held up the two spears to illustrate his words. “Big boss say, ‘Go ’long my boy.’ Little boss say, ‘Go ’long my dad.’ Joeboy say, ‘Don’t car’; shan’t go. Got to go ’long Boss Val.’”

“My father told you this?”

“Um!” said the great fellow; “dat’s all right.”

“But you would be so much use to my father, Joe, to manage the bullocks in the wagon.”

“No,” he said. “No bullock. Boer boy take ’em all away. Boss John no got nothing soon.”

“You are sure my father said you were to go with me, Joeboy?” I said after a few minutes’ pause.

“Um,” he said, nodding his head fiercely. “Say, ‘Take care my boy, Joeboy.’ Joeboy take care Boss Val.”

He caught up his shield and sprang to his feet, with the assagais trembling in his big hand, looking as if he could be a terrible adversary in a close conflict, though helpless against modern weapons of war.

This thought made me think of myself and my own position.

“Very well, Joeboy. I say you shall come with me.”

He nodded.

“But you’ll have to lend me one of your assagais till I can get a rifle.”

“Boss Val got rifle gun,” he said sharply.

“Where? No; I have only my knife.”

Joeboy laughed, and ran to the side of the rift, where he began to scratch in the sand, and a few inches down laid bare the muzzle of my rifle, gave it a tug, and it came out with the well-filled bandolier attached.

I caught at it with a cry of eager joy, and began to carefully dust away every particle of sand that clung to it before slipping on the belt, forgetting the aching pains in my wrists and left leg, as something like a glow of confidence ran through me. Then came back the thought of home, with its smiling fields, orchard, and garden around the house we had raised upon the land won from the wilderness; and the thought that I was to be exiled from it all in consequence of this war; and the injustice of the Boers raised a spirit of anger against them which helped me to pull myself together and frowningly resolve to prove myself a man.

“Action, action,” I muttered. “I should have liked to go back and see them all again; but I must begin at once, before I am taken. What would they do with me?” I said aloud; and a glance at Joeboy’s face showed me that, awkward though he was at speaking, he comprehended every word I had said.

“Big Boss Boer,” he said, nodding, “say Boss Val come fight. No Boss Val fight?Whish, whish, whish, crack, cruck!”

He went through the movement of one wielding a bullock-lash, and imitated the sound it made through the air and the loud cracking when it struck home upon quivering flesh. Then he went on, “Boss Val no fight now!Bang, bang!”

“Flog me the first time I refuse, Joeboy, and shoot me the next time.”

“Um.”

“Well, then, we will not give them the chance.”

Joeboy shook his head violently.

“What Joeboy do now, Boss?”

“Rub my wrists, Joeboy,” I said, stripping up my sleeves and showing him their bruised state and my swollen arms.

He understood why they were so, and took first one and then the other in his big soft grey palms, to mould and knead and rub them with untiring patience for long enough, the effect being pleasurable in the extreme.

But I checked him when he was in the midst of it, and pointed to my leg.

“Boer tie up leg?” he said wonderingly.

I explained what was wrong, and he knelt before me, carefully removing my laced-up boot, and giving me sickening pain as he drew off my coarse home-knitted stocking, to lay bare the wrenched and swollen foot and ankle.

“Um!” he said. “Boss Val come to water.”

He lifted me to the edge of the stream as easily as if I had been a child, and when I sat down, carefully bathed the joint for fully half-an-hour, dried it by pouring sand over it again and again, and then as tenderly as a woman replaced stocking and boot, which latter he laced very loosely.

“Boss Val go one leg when off Sandho.”

“Yes, Joeboy,” I said; “but it will soon get better.”

“Um!” he said, and he looked at me inquiringly, as if for orders.

“Now we must be off, Joeboy, before the Boers hunt me out.”

“Um!” he said, in token of assent; and upon my calling Sandho to my side Joeboy helped me to mount, securing the satchel to my saddle in obedience to my orders; and, making for Echo Nek, we went steadily on, my intention being to get through the pass and some distance on the other side towards the Natal border before dark.

“We shall know the road better there, Joeboy,” I said after we had been walking some time; “it all seems strange to me here.”

“Joeboy know,” he said.

“What! the way about here?” I said, in surprise. “When did you come?”

“Long while,” he replied. “Lost bullock. Come here.”

“Oh!”—then I remembered. “Of course. You were gone a fortnight.”

“Um!” said Joeboy.

“And my father thought you had run away, and that we should never see you again.”

“How Joeboy run away? Bullock no run. Run other way.”

“Yes,” I said, laughing; “they are always ready to go in the wrong direction. Do you know”—I was going to say something about the rising of one of the rivers up in the mountains somewhere near, but I stopped short, for my companion suddenly darted to Sandho’s head and pressed him sidewise towards a pile of rocks which offered plenty of shelter from anything in front.

“What is it, Joeboy?” I said. “A good shot at something?”

For answer he pointed upward at the rocks beside the pass which went by the name of Echo Nek—the place which we had nearly reached, this great gap in the mountains being the only spot for many miles on either side where a horse could cross. As to wagons, a far greater détour was necessary to find a road.

I looked in the direction he pointed out, but for some moments I could see nothing. Then a faint gleam from something moving gave me warning of what had taken place, and directly after I caught sight of the bearer of the rifle from whose barrel the sunlight had flashed.

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