Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.Saved from an Awful Fate.“Let us stop here a few moments, Guy,” said Jack, when the two had advanced some twenty yards from the mimosa clump in which they had left Mrs Robb and her infant to wait for them. “That is evidently the gun up there at the top, and tied to the wheels are, I suppose, Mr Hunter and your father. Now how are we going to rescue them! It isn’t likely that the Boers will have left them unguarded. You can see for yourself that there is a camp away there on the left, for their fires are burning brightly. And in addition to the men there within easy call, there are certainly others near the gun.”“Yes, there are sure to be pickets close to the top, for the garrison of Ladysmith might make a sortie at any moment,” Guy answered in a low whisper. “In Pretoria I heard that more than one gun had been put out of action in that manner. But about these pickets—we must slip between them. They are not likely to be awake at this hour. About three o’clock in the morning finds them astir.”“Very well then, unsling your rifle, Guy, but do not load it. If there is trouble you can open the magazine in a moment, but with a cartridge in the breech, and the bolt pulled back, the slightest touch on the trigger would ruin all. Are you ready? Then keep close behind me, and if any of the Boers challenge I will leave it to you to answer them.”“Trust me, Jack, old boy,” Guy whispered back. Then, feeling for his friend’s hand, he gave it a cordial grasp, which was returned as eagerly with a squeeze which almost made him cry out with pain. “If things go wrong, Jack,” he said earnestly, “we’ve been good pals. You’re a real brick, old man!”“Things are not going wrong,” Jack answered grimly. “I’m going to get them both away, or I’ll know the reason why!”For a moment longer the two young fellows stood facing one another in the darkness, gripping each other by the hand in a manner which said better than words could do that they were determined on one thing at least, and that was to be true to one another to death. Then Jack whispered, “Come along!” And, followed closely by Guy, he commenced to climb the steep and rugged side of the hill.At any time it was no easy task, but now, when the displacement of a stone, or a footstep upon a piece of exposed rock, would easily have betrayed them, it was a matter of the utmost importance that only soft and grassy spots should be selected to put their feet upon.By this time both were on hands and knees, and, feeling carefully in front of him, Jack wound from side to side, sometimes going a considerable way out of the direct course in his endeavour to find soft ground.It was a long and tedious climb, but at last they were within fifty feet of the summit, where they came to a halt and looked cautiously round.There was no one near them as far as they could see, but above them, standing dimly silhouetted against the sky, was an immense Creuzot gun, looking like some gigantic animal crouching on all-fours.“Keep a bright look-out!” Jack whispered, with his mouth close to Guy’s ear. “There must be a guard somewhere close at hand.”“What is that?” Guy answered hoarsely, pointing to the left. “Surely those are men wrapped in blankets and asleep. Yes, I am sure of it.”“Stay here a moment, and I will see,” said Jack; and a second later he was gone in the darkness, and was creeping towards the ill-defined figures which Guy had pointed out.It was dangerous work, but he had had a good grounding in the duties of a scout, and now he put into practice all the cunning that Tom Salter and his own quick wits had taught him. Lying almost flat upon the ground, he wriggled his body between the boulders and rapidly advanced. A few moments later he was sufficiently close, and, cautiously standing up behind a jagged mass of rock, peeped over the top.The sight he saw filled him with satisfaction, for, wrapped from head to foot in blankets, were ten men fast asleep on the side of the hill.“We ought to get past those fellows safely,” he muttered, “and if there are no more of them we might even be able to make a fight of it. By George, there are their rifles stacked a few feet away from their heads! It is worth the risk, and I will chance it.”Once more crawling forward, he writhed amongst the boulders, and was soon within easy reach of the weapons, but with a boulder between himself and the recumbent figures. At that moment, despite all his care, the butt of his rifle struck against the rock and gave rise to a sharp sound.Jack immediately lay flat on the ground, and, placing his thumb on the magazine catch, prepared to shoot a cartridge into the breech, and keep the Boers from taking possession of their Mausers.It was evident that one of the men was a light sleeper, for at the sound of the butt striking the boulder he sat up on his elbow and looked suspiciously round. Then he rose to his feet, shook off the blankets, and strode towards the stack of rifles. Jack covered him and prepared to shoot, but, satisfied that here there was nothing wrong, the Boer again stopped, and then, evidently still suspicious, climbed up the hill to the gun.Jack followed him, and again hid himself behind a boulder some ten feet away. As he did so, another ghostly-looking figure approached the Boer, and demanded, in somewhat quavering tones, what was the matter. Jack had no difficulty in following his words, for once again, with a start of surprise and an angry snap of his teeth which boded ill for the man should Jack find himself opposed to him, he recognised the voice of the fat little German, Hans Schloss, who had shown himself such a bitter hater of the English.“That man is always coming across my path,” he muttered grimly to himself, “but let him look out this time; for if he comes between me and my object I will put a bullet through his carcass!”Then he sat up and craned his head to listen.“What is the matter, Gert?” the German asked in a trembling voice, which showed that sentry duty in front of these much-despised English was a task he had little liking for.“Nothing is wrong, little man,” the Boer answered surlily, “but I heard a sound, and came up here to see whether anything had happened. But these prisoners are evidently afraid of you, Hans Schloss. Ah! you are a gallant fighter, and to-morrow you shall help us to work this gun, and see the English shells come bursting close at hand. It will be a fine sight for you to watch those prisoners blown to pieces by the very men they would wish to fight for!”“Ha, ha, Gert! You were always funny,” Hans answered, with a husky laugh which had no merriment in it, “but to-morrow I have other work to do. It is a misfortune, for I should dearly have loved to witness the execution of these traitors.”“Well, keep a bright look-out, Hans,” the Boer replied brusquely, “or else you may never live to see to-morrow’s light.” Then he turned about, and swung down the hill past Jack, leaving the little German quivering with fear. Five minutes later the man addressed as Gert was once more wrapped in his blankets, and Jack was crawling back to join Guy.“Come away over here,” he whispered when he had reached him. “Now lie down flat, and I will tell you what I have seen.”Then he detailed how ten Boers were sleeping upon the hill, and how Hans Schloss was keeping guard in front.“With a little luck we shall manage beautifully,” he went on, “but there is always the chance of one of those Boers waking up, or of Hans discovering us. I had intended removing the stacked rifles, but it was too risky a job when one of the men was only half-asleep. But we can do every bit as well by separating. Are you willing to do just as I suggest?”“I’ll do exactly as you order, Jack,” Guy answered. “You’re boss of this show, and had better continue to act as such. Too many cooks spoil the broth, old chap!”“Very well, then, you will follow me, and I shall leave you behind a boulder close to the sleeping Boers. When you are safely hidden there, slip a cartridge into the breech and open the magazine. If there is an alarm, it will be your duty to keep anyone from using those rifles, and whatever happens you will stick to your post till I call you.”“I understand. You can rely upon me,” Guy answered shortly.“When you are in position,” Jack continued, “I shall sneak up to the gun and cut the prisoners loose. I’d give you that part of the job, Guy, old boy, as your father is there, but I have already been up there and know the ground. When we are ready I will slip across to you, and tell you how matters have gone. Then we will all cut away down the hill, fetch Mrs Robb and the kid, and strike round into the camp. Is that all clear?”“As clear as daylight, old horse!” exclaimed Guy, with a suspicion of excitement in his voice. “I’m ready now. Let us set about it.”Once more creeping forward on their knees, it was not long before Jack had guided his friend to the important post he was to occupy. Then he left him there, and, knife in hand, climbed up the hill.The gun was now only a few yards away, and in little more than a minute Jack was close to it. Dropping flat upon the ground for a moment, he waited till Hans Schloss had moved out of sight. Then he scrambled forward and hastily dived beneath the enormous weapon. On either side of him were the massive wheels, and through the spokes Jack made out the figures of two men.Rising slowly, he gently pulled the sleeve of one, and whispered in his ear: “Be silent for your life! I am a friend.”The man gave a start, and almost cried out. Then he turned his head and answered: “Who are you? For God’s sake rescue us!”Jack recognised the voice as Mr Hunter’s, and placing his lips close to his ear, whispered: “I am Jack Somerton. Stand still. I will cut you loose.”Feeling along the spokes, he soon found that Mr Hunter’s wrists were lashed together to the hub of the wheel. He severed the cord with his knife.Then he dived beneath the gun to the other prisoner, and having told him who he was, and that his son was close at hand, set him free also.A moment later they were ready to start, Mr Hunter and Mr Richardson still standing against the wheels as though their lashings were secure.“Hush, here comes the sentry!” Mr Hunter whispered as they were about to leave their posts.Jack at once lay down upon the ground, and, opening the magazine of his rifle, slipped a cartridge in in readiness, in case there should be trouble.A second later Hans Schloss swaggered up with his Mauser at the slope across his shoulder, and looked closely at each of the prisoners.“Ha, Oom Hunter and Oom Richardson!” he laughed brutally, “this is a fine night for you. It is your last, my English friends, so make the most of it. Well, you are securely fastened, so I will leave you alone to think of your wives and your homes.”Neither of the prisoners deigned to answer; but, had the vindictive and cowardly little German but known it, both were braced and ready to hurl themselves upon him and strangle the life out of him should he discover that their bonds were gone.But, turning round with a sneering and cruel laugh, he walked back to his post, and all three at the gun breathed freely again. Another minute, and they would have hurried away, when a faint sound close in front of them attracted Jack’s attention. It was so faint that neither of the prisoners had heard it, but Jack’s trained ear told him that some men were approaching in the darkness.“Wait, what is that?” he asked, detaining Mr Hunter and his comrade by the arm. “Surely the Boers are not coming up to work the gun!”Next second all three became convinced that a large body of men was approaching, and even Hans Schloss had his suspicions aroused. He stopped in his lonely tramp abruptly, faced down the hill towards Ladysmith, and brought his rifle to his shoulder. An instant later a figure bounded into sight close in front of him, and the German fired and turned to fly. But he was too late. The flash of the rifle lit up the darkness, and to the astonishment of Jack and his two companions they saw a swarm of kilted men rushing headlong at the gun, while in front of them was the brawny giant, a fine Scotch lad from the Highlands, at whom the German had fired. The bullet evidently found a mark, for the soldier gave a fierce cry of anger and pain, and, bounding forward, buried his bayonet in Hans Schloss’s body, and with the strength of a Hercules hurled him over his shoulder just as a man might toss a bundle of hay with a pitchfork. Then someone shouted in the darkness, “At them boys! Surround the gun and keep everyone back till we have done the work!”A second later there was a rush, and a hurricane of bullets swept across the top of the hill, splashing on the gun, and making it uncommonly uncomfortable for Jack and his friends, while the sharp crack of a Mauser close at hand and a series of terrified cries told them that Guy was performing his allotted task.“Stop! Don’t fire! We are English!” Jack shouted.“Cease fire there! Steady, men! Cover these fellows till I can get a look at them!” shouted the officer.“Why, it’s Rawlings!” Jack cried in delight, recognising the voice of an officer he had met in Ladysmith. “Rawlings, I am Jack Somerton. Don’t let your men fire, and we will explain everything.”At this moment a dark lantern was unmasked, and the rays flashed in Jack’s face.“By Jove, it’s you right enough!” Rawlings cried. “Who are the others?”“Prisoners who had been tied to the gun, and whom I and a friend were rescuing,” Jack answered hurriedly. “But I’ll tell you all about it later on. The Boers are away on the left, and that is the side you had best look to.”“Why, who’s this?” the officer demanded a second later, as Guy was brought up a prisoner and halted in front of him between two Highlanders with fixed bayonets.“Don’t know, sir,” one of the men answered shortly, with a Scotch accent. “He was firing away like mad down the hill, and there were a couple of dead Boers at his feet lying over a pile of rifles.”“That’s my friend who was helping me, Rawlings,” Jack explained hastily. “Look here; how long are you likely to be on this hill?”“Just as long as it takes to blow this infernal gun to pieces,” the officer coolly replied. “Why do you want to know? Can I help you?”“Yes, we left a poor English lady and her child down there,” Jack answered, pointing down the hill. “I’ll go and fetch her, and then we will all get back together.”“That’ll suit me, Somerton,” Rawlings replied. “A lady in distress, old boy, and you never need appeal twice to a soldier. Cut along then, and get back as soon as you can. Sergeant, detail three men to help. Quick about it, lads! Sing out when you’re near again.”A minute later Jack and his escort were tearing down the hill, and having found Mrs Robb, returned with her to their friends.“Ah! you’re there, are you, Somerton?” Rawlings cried calmly. “All right then! slip along down the hill and we’ll follow you. Now, where’s the lantern? That’s it. Line the top of the hill, boys, till the fuse begins to splutter. Then we’ll run for it.”It was an exciting moment, and Jack, who had stayed behind, revelled in it, for this was just the kind of hazardous work that he enjoyed. But by this time the fuse was burning brightly, and the Highlanders fell back, having placed a heavy charge of gun-cotton in the breech of the Creuzot gun.Five minutes later there was a loud report, and the breech had been blown to atoms and the rifling destroyed.But it must not be supposed that all this time the sortie party had been left undisturbed. On the contrary, a dash, which had at first been merely in the nature of a gallant attempt to destroy a gun which had annoyed the garrison in the camp below, had now developed into a sharp affair. Recovering from their first surprise, the Boers on the left of the hill had leapt from their hard couches, and had moved upwards against the British troops in extended order. Soon their bullets began to swish close to the gun, and one or two of the Highlanders were wounded. But the others lay down behind boulders, and soon their rifle fire was answering the flashes below.Immediately the fuse had become fairly alight the officer drew off his men, and, carrying the wounded, moved down the hill towards the camp. A minute later and Mrs Robb and her child were in the centre.“Look out, sir!” the sergeant shouted at this moment; “they’ve got between us and the camp!”“Then are you ready with those bayonets?” Rawlings cried cheerfully. “Charge right through them!”Five minutes of wild, fierce fighting followed, for British troops, whether English, Irish, or Scotch, are perfect demons when their blood is roused and they are armed with that deadly weapon which none know better how to use. It seems to be an understood thing with them that, however much firing of guns there may be, and however thickly the bullets may fly, matters are not satisfactory and ended as they should be unless the bugle sounds “the charge”, and they rush with a cheer and hurl themselves upon the enemy.The brave Highlanders, with their kilts blowing from side to side, rushed headlong at the Boers, and simply split them into two parties. Then they turned upon each one, and with a savage fierceness and a splendid disregard of the danger they incurred, forged a way into them and thrust them back at the points of the murderous bayonets.Prominent amongst them was the giant who had ended Hans Schloss’s career, and by his side, using a bayonet which he had taken from a wounded soldier, was Jack Somerton, using it too with a vigour and a quickness which sent many a Boer to his last account.“Get together there, me boys!” the Highlander by his side shouted. “Now, at ’em! Remember Majuba, and give them a taste of your steel!” His comrades answered with a hoarse cheer, and shouting “Remember Majuba!” fell upon the remaining Boers and put them to flight. Then they picked up those who had fallen and returned slowly to the camp, a rearguard marching behind them and answering the volleys discharged at them with a brisk fusillade.Soon they were out of harm’s way, and stepped forward to the inspiriting wail of a bagpipe. About half an hour later it became light, and the whole garrison of Ladysmith who were free to do so turned out to welcome them. They had heard the firing, seen the flash of the gun-cotton which had destroyed the gun, and so learned that some of their number were making a sortie. It was a surprise to them as much as to the enemy; but to have published the news the day before would have meant a certain reverse, for in the town and camp, fraternising with our troops, were still men bought with Pretoria gold—spies and traitors who lived in the guise of harmless and refugee civilians, and yet were ready to send news of intended movements to the Boers.But now that the sortie was an accomplished fact, and had proved such a signal success, the troops flocked out in hundreds and cheered the gallant party, relieving of their burdens those who were carrying the wounded.Then a couple of ambulance wagons galloped up, and while one of them halted and took in the poor fellows, the other went ahead, one of the surgeons climbing in behind. A few hundred yards farther on a shell dropped and exploded near them, and a groan burst from all who were watching; for the work done for all who were helpless or hurt, by the medical staff, had already roused a feeling of deep gratitude in the hearts of the men.Undaunted by the shell, and by another which quickly followed it, the ambulance wagon galloped on, a white flag with the red cross of Geneva flying above it. On arriving close to the hill, the surgeon was seen to leap out, and, followed by four stretcher-bearers, to walk hither and thither in search of the one or two men who had been left behind. Soon they found them, in the midst of a pile of wounded Boers, and, carrying them to the wagon, returned to the camp at a leisurely pace, the enemy this time letting them go unmolested.Meanwhile the sortie party had almost been carried to their tents, while the officer who had been in command turned to the strangers who had so strangely joined his forces.“What’s the matter, Somerton?” he cried. “You look awfully white. Not hit, I hope?”“Oh, I’m all right! It’s nothing, thanks!” Jack answered. But his looks belied his words. He was deadly pale. His head was in a whirl, and now that all the excitement and danger was over, the power to control his feelings deserted him. His rifle dropped from his hand, he staggered forward, and fell senseless at the feet of his astonished friends.Guy rushed to his side, and with the help of Rawlings, Mr Hunter, and Mr Richardson carried him to a field hospital which happened to be near. There it was found that a bullet had struck the magazine of his Mauser pistol, and, exploding the ammunition, had shattered the weapon and torn a deep wound in his side. But, strange to say, Jack had barely felt it at the time, though on the way back to the camp the pain had been excruciating. He had received the wound when charging with the bayonet, and the loss of blood which followed had at last told upon his strength.When he recovered consciousness he was lying in a comfortable cot in a huge marquee, in which were fifteen others. In front of him, calmly stitching beneath the flap-like awning, was an army nursing sister, one of that band of noble women who follow our armies everywhere. She was stitching quietly, and seemed quite unconcerned when shell after shell, thrown from the Boer guns, fell in the camp.Jack stirred, and at once gave vent to a sharp cry of pain, for the slightest movement caused him agony.“Ah, so you’ve come to at last!” said the sister in a gentle voice, jumping up from her seat and coming to the side of his cot. “Now you must drink this. It is nasty stuff, but will do you good, and to-morrow, if you are strong enough, I will tell you how my life has been pestered these last two days by the hundreds of friends who have called to ask after you.”“Friends!” said Jack feebly. “What friends? I have only a few here.”“You have far more than you imagine,” the sister replied with a smile. “But I am disobeying orders. You are not to talk.”With gentle hands she arranged his pillows and saw that he was comfortable, and Jack fell into an easy sleep as he was in the act of thanking her.But on the following day he was unconscious again, for his wound was inflamed and he was in the height of a fever. Against this his iron constitution fought for two long weeks, during which he was tenderly looked after by the nurse, and watched with anxious feeling by the surgeons. And all this time Guy and his father and Mr Hunter hovered outside in the depths of despair, waiting impatiently for the first good news of their friend.At last one day he showed signs of improvement, and two weeks later was rapidly recovering. The change in his condition caused a wave of gladness to spread over the beleaguered town, for Guy and his noble comrade, to whom he unstintingly and generously gave most of the credit, were the heroes of Ladysmith. Their adventures were detailed round many a camp fire, and if one soldier puffed more fiercely at his pipe, and swore beneath his breath that Jack was a downright good fellow, hundreds did, from the officers downwards.As for Mrs Robb, the forlorn but brave little English lady whom the two young fellows had befriended at such risk to themselves, she was now quite happy once more, for her husband had escaped from his captors and had joined her in the camp.And now to return for one brief moment to Frampton Grange, the family seat of the Somertons, and the amiable mistress and youth who resided there. Jack’s accident in London and his voyage to Africa had long ceased to be topics of interest to them, and, indeed, beyond wondering occasionally what had become of him, they never troubled themselves about him. Jack had written to them several times, but neither Mrs Somerton nor Frank had deigned to respond, and in consequence he had for months kept silent, so that they had no idea of his whereabouts.But Dr Hanly was a regular correspondent of Jack’s, and when the latter wrote and said that they were on the eve of war, and that he should volunteer for service, the doctor sent the letter down to the Grange, so that Mrs Somerton might read it.Who shall say what were the thoughts of this disappointed woman, or of the worldly son who lived with her? Frampton Grange was a charming and luxurious residence, and the legacy to which Jack was entitled at a certain age was by no means a small one. What if something happened to him? Then all would come to Mrs Somerton, and in due course to Frank. The very thought of it made the latter more unbearable, his airs and graces grew even more exasperating, and he finally became a veritable ruler of the house, with the result that there were many changes in the household. The first to leave was the old butler, who had been for years in the service of the family, and then one by one the other domestics quitted the house.Kruger’s ultimatum was delivered, hostilities commenced, and mother and son scanned the newspapers and the long list of casualties with expectant feelings. Judge of their disappointment, then, when, instead of wounded, killed, or missing, Jack’s name appeared in large type, and beneath it a long article describing the adventures of a young Englishman, by name Jack Somerton, of a good old family at home, who had ridden from Kimberley to Johannesburg to aid the refugees, and had afterwards brought news to the beleaguered town, after having accomplished a gallant deed on the way.No sooner had this appeared than another telegram announced his successful dash for Mafeking, and his subsequent daring ride to the north.Then came silence. There was no news of him. Messages from Tuli and Mafeking stated that nothing further had been heard of him, and it was feared that he had been captured. But advices from Pretoria failed to mention his name amongst the lists of prisoners, and the master and mistress of Frampton Grange felt their hopes rise high.But later, after more than a month of silence, the busy flash-light from Ladysmith explained how Jack Somerton had come nobly to the fore again.Dr Hanly was beside himself with pride and pleasure, and no sooner had he read the news than he darted off to the Grange and congratulated Mrs Somerton. He was an observant man, was this little doctor; given to thinking charitably of everyone; but when he saw the little enthusiasm his intelligence caused he was astounded and disgusted, and at once left the house with the firm intention of never going there again till Jack returned.Dr Hanly was not the only neighbour who showed his appreciation of our hero’s services to his country. From far and near people called to offer their congratulations, and letters poured in in shoals. So much so, indeed, that Mrs Somerton and her son gradually began to look upon the other side. They were not altogether bad or selfish, and in time they too, feeling a kind of reflected glory, began to think more kindly of the homeless lad they had treated so harshly. In this satisfactory condition we will leave them, and while Jack Somerton lies in his bed in that field hospital in the invested camp at Ladysmith we will return to the British troops in other parts of South Africa.It will be remembered that on the receipt of Kruger’s ultimatum England had despatched a large army over the 6000 miles of water which cut her off from South Africa, and this force had arrived at its destination in due course, armed and ready for war, and accompanied by supplies. In addition, local colonial forces were rapidly enlisted, for it was apparent to all that no one could approach so close to the Boers in slimness and astuteness in fighting as these hardy young sons of the old country, who, finding themselves crowded out by the more fortunate ones, had betaken themselves to this fair land of South Africa to set up new homes. And with them, to do all and every arm of the service justice, must be classed the gallant volunteers from Australia, Canada, and New Zealand. For the most part used to a rough life in the bush, they proved most valuable scouts, and were as fine a body of men as could be met with.Thus it will be seen that we had a large army in the field, and when it is recollected that some 10,000 troops were hemmed in at Ladysmith, while others kept the foe at bay in Cape Colony, Kimberley, and Mafeking, it will be realised that England was well represented.A glance at the map of South Africa will show the four railway systems leading into or close by the two republics in arms against us. Those who know the country through which they run believed that General Buller, the able leader of the British forces, would invade the Orange Free State by way of the Orange River, and thus draw off the investing forces from Ladysmith and the other besieged towns.But a little consideration will show that such a task was all too formidable for the army we had accumulated. To begin with, the Boers far outnumbered us—not that that damped the spirits of our men, but it was a fact to be seriously reckoned with. Then Cape Colony was seething with sedition, and a revolt was to be feared unless troops were there to keep the rebels in check. But perhaps the greatest difficulty was that this necessity for troops in all parts of the country, and along the railway to the Orange River, the absolute importance of keeping the communications open from the advancing army right away to the sea, and above all the large force required to keep the Boers in check in Natal and south of Kimberley, capped the strength of our army corps to such an extent that when all demands had been supplied its numbers had dwindled so alarmingly that the idea of an invasion had to be promptly abandoned.The urgent necessity for the timely relief of the three beleaguered towns now became obvious, for the fall of any one of them, but particularly of Ladysmith, would have been a heavy blow to our prestige in the country, and would have increased the already growing sedition.Accordingly Lord Methuen was despatched with a force of some 10,000 men to Kimberley, while the remaining troops were sentviaDurban into Natal. A few others were placed under General Gatacre’s command, and, having sailed to East London, took train for Queenstown, while another force, under General French, wentviaPort Elizabeth towards Naauwpoort.To detail the regiments or the exact numbers in each column would be to tax the patience of the most generous of readers, as would also a full description of the various skirmishes which each had with the enemy. They started from the sea base by railway, and as they reached the invaded country they followed the rails, and repaired the parts which had been torn up by the Boers. Thus, their communications being assured, they had abundant supplies of ammunition and of food, and could pass their wounded down the line a few hours after the injuries were received.But though this means of transport saved a vast deal of labour, and for the moment allowed our generals to dispense with wagons and mules, it had one decidedly important disadvantage, for, inasmuch as we were tied to it, the Boers knew weeks beforehand what part they would have to defend, and made preparations accordingly. And this was particularly the case on the west and in Natal.In the case of the former, a large force of Boers, under Commandant Cronje, opposed Methuen’s advance just above Hope Town. Heights had been selected at Belmont, and these had been carefully entrenched. But the Guards, the Marines, and the others who composed the force dashed at them, and captured them at the point of the bayonet.A few miles farther north, at Graspan, another position had been taken by the Boers, and once again we drove them out of it.But there was sterner work before this truly gallant column, for, though they had driven the enemy before them on each occasion, the lack of a really large mobile arm, in the shape of a cavalry force, hampered them seriously, and allowed the Boers to retire where otherwise they might have been routed. Consequently they were far from beaten, and when the column reached the banks of the Modder River it was to find a long line of ridges entrenched on the other side, and the bridge blown down. In addition, the knowledge that the British must pass on in this direction had allowed the Boers full scope in the way of artillery, a most important arm, and instead of the field-guns which we were forced for the most part to make use of, they had mounted long-range weapons of position, against which only our naval 4.7 cannon could effectively fight.The battle of Modder River was a murderous affair, but once again, in spite of severe losses, we damaged the enemy to such an extent that, though not driven from his entrenchments, he deserted them overnight, and under cover of darkness retired on the long ridges of Spytfontein and Magersfontein, only a few miles south of Kimberley.It was an exceedingly formidable and well-chosen position. In spite of the most complete reconnaissances the trenches remained hidden, and the Boers held their fire, refusing to be drawn into showing their exact whereabouts till an attack was made in force.It was a crafty and exceedingly wise proceeding on their part, for when, in the grey of dawn, our Highland Brigade advanced, they stumbled, in close order, upon the first line of trenches before they were aware of it. And the Boers, who were almost taken by surprise, poured murderous volleys into their ranks as they marched in quarter column, and almost decimated them. It was a most unfortunate affair, and though we covered the retirement of the brigade, and indeed killed and wounded large numbers of the Boers, we failed to turn them out of their trenches, and retired on our camp, checked for the first time in a memorable march, in which in seven days we had fought no fewer than three successful engagements.It was a check, not a reverse, though the disaster to the Highlanders was a serious affair. But it created a sensation, and formed one of those irritating pin-pricks which roused the British lion to do his utmost, and caused us to pour into Africa an army larger than had ever before been transported across the sea. How those troops were raised, how the patriotic spirit of the nation showed itself, will be described in due course. For the moment we shall leave Methuen’s column safely entrenched in front of the Boers, waiting for reinforcements from oversea ere they made a second attempt at an almost impossible task, and will mention the fate in store for Gatacre’s force. This small column, with its base at Queenstown, had a disastrous beginning. A night march to Stormberg, where the enemy was in force, was attempted. A miscalculation brought the troops into an extremely dangerous position, and a large number were taken prisoners, the remainder retiring in good order.What happened to the other column in Natal is of so much importance that it must be described in fuller detail.

“Let us stop here a few moments, Guy,” said Jack, when the two had advanced some twenty yards from the mimosa clump in which they had left Mrs Robb and her infant to wait for them. “That is evidently the gun up there at the top, and tied to the wheels are, I suppose, Mr Hunter and your father. Now how are we going to rescue them! It isn’t likely that the Boers will have left them unguarded. You can see for yourself that there is a camp away there on the left, for their fires are burning brightly. And in addition to the men there within easy call, there are certainly others near the gun.”

“Yes, there are sure to be pickets close to the top, for the garrison of Ladysmith might make a sortie at any moment,” Guy answered in a low whisper. “In Pretoria I heard that more than one gun had been put out of action in that manner. But about these pickets—we must slip between them. They are not likely to be awake at this hour. About three o’clock in the morning finds them astir.”

“Very well then, unsling your rifle, Guy, but do not load it. If there is trouble you can open the magazine in a moment, but with a cartridge in the breech, and the bolt pulled back, the slightest touch on the trigger would ruin all. Are you ready? Then keep close behind me, and if any of the Boers challenge I will leave it to you to answer them.”

“Trust me, Jack, old boy,” Guy whispered back. Then, feeling for his friend’s hand, he gave it a cordial grasp, which was returned as eagerly with a squeeze which almost made him cry out with pain. “If things go wrong, Jack,” he said earnestly, “we’ve been good pals. You’re a real brick, old man!”

“Things are not going wrong,” Jack answered grimly. “I’m going to get them both away, or I’ll know the reason why!”

For a moment longer the two young fellows stood facing one another in the darkness, gripping each other by the hand in a manner which said better than words could do that they were determined on one thing at least, and that was to be true to one another to death. Then Jack whispered, “Come along!” And, followed closely by Guy, he commenced to climb the steep and rugged side of the hill.

At any time it was no easy task, but now, when the displacement of a stone, or a footstep upon a piece of exposed rock, would easily have betrayed them, it was a matter of the utmost importance that only soft and grassy spots should be selected to put their feet upon.

By this time both were on hands and knees, and, feeling carefully in front of him, Jack wound from side to side, sometimes going a considerable way out of the direct course in his endeavour to find soft ground.

It was a long and tedious climb, but at last they were within fifty feet of the summit, where they came to a halt and looked cautiously round.

There was no one near them as far as they could see, but above them, standing dimly silhouetted against the sky, was an immense Creuzot gun, looking like some gigantic animal crouching on all-fours.

“Keep a bright look-out!” Jack whispered, with his mouth close to Guy’s ear. “There must be a guard somewhere close at hand.”

“What is that?” Guy answered hoarsely, pointing to the left. “Surely those are men wrapped in blankets and asleep. Yes, I am sure of it.”

“Stay here a moment, and I will see,” said Jack; and a second later he was gone in the darkness, and was creeping towards the ill-defined figures which Guy had pointed out.

It was dangerous work, but he had had a good grounding in the duties of a scout, and now he put into practice all the cunning that Tom Salter and his own quick wits had taught him. Lying almost flat upon the ground, he wriggled his body between the boulders and rapidly advanced. A few moments later he was sufficiently close, and, cautiously standing up behind a jagged mass of rock, peeped over the top.

The sight he saw filled him with satisfaction, for, wrapped from head to foot in blankets, were ten men fast asleep on the side of the hill.

“We ought to get past those fellows safely,” he muttered, “and if there are no more of them we might even be able to make a fight of it. By George, there are their rifles stacked a few feet away from their heads! It is worth the risk, and I will chance it.”

Once more crawling forward, he writhed amongst the boulders, and was soon within easy reach of the weapons, but with a boulder between himself and the recumbent figures. At that moment, despite all his care, the butt of his rifle struck against the rock and gave rise to a sharp sound.

Jack immediately lay flat on the ground, and, placing his thumb on the magazine catch, prepared to shoot a cartridge into the breech, and keep the Boers from taking possession of their Mausers.

It was evident that one of the men was a light sleeper, for at the sound of the butt striking the boulder he sat up on his elbow and looked suspiciously round. Then he rose to his feet, shook off the blankets, and strode towards the stack of rifles. Jack covered him and prepared to shoot, but, satisfied that here there was nothing wrong, the Boer again stopped, and then, evidently still suspicious, climbed up the hill to the gun.

Jack followed him, and again hid himself behind a boulder some ten feet away. As he did so, another ghostly-looking figure approached the Boer, and demanded, in somewhat quavering tones, what was the matter. Jack had no difficulty in following his words, for once again, with a start of surprise and an angry snap of his teeth which boded ill for the man should Jack find himself opposed to him, he recognised the voice of the fat little German, Hans Schloss, who had shown himself such a bitter hater of the English.

“That man is always coming across my path,” he muttered grimly to himself, “but let him look out this time; for if he comes between me and my object I will put a bullet through his carcass!”

Then he sat up and craned his head to listen.

“What is the matter, Gert?” the German asked in a trembling voice, which showed that sentry duty in front of these much-despised English was a task he had little liking for.

“Nothing is wrong, little man,” the Boer answered surlily, “but I heard a sound, and came up here to see whether anything had happened. But these prisoners are evidently afraid of you, Hans Schloss. Ah! you are a gallant fighter, and to-morrow you shall help us to work this gun, and see the English shells come bursting close at hand. It will be a fine sight for you to watch those prisoners blown to pieces by the very men they would wish to fight for!”

“Ha, ha, Gert! You were always funny,” Hans answered, with a husky laugh which had no merriment in it, “but to-morrow I have other work to do. It is a misfortune, for I should dearly have loved to witness the execution of these traitors.”

“Well, keep a bright look-out, Hans,” the Boer replied brusquely, “or else you may never live to see to-morrow’s light.” Then he turned about, and swung down the hill past Jack, leaving the little German quivering with fear. Five minutes later the man addressed as Gert was once more wrapped in his blankets, and Jack was crawling back to join Guy.

“Come away over here,” he whispered when he had reached him. “Now lie down flat, and I will tell you what I have seen.”

Then he detailed how ten Boers were sleeping upon the hill, and how Hans Schloss was keeping guard in front.

“With a little luck we shall manage beautifully,” he went on, “but there is always the chance of one of those Boers waking up, or of Hans discovering us. I had intended removing the stacked rifles, but it was too risky a job when one of the men was only half-asleep. But we can do every bit as well by separating. Are you willing to do just as I suggest?”

“I’ll do exactly as you order, Jack,” Guy answered. “You’re boss of this show, and had better continue to act as such. Too many cooks spoil the broth, old chap!”

“Very well, then, you will follow me, and I shall leave you behind a boulder close to the sleeping Boers. When you are safely hidden there, slip a cartridge into the breech and open the magazine. If there is an alarm, it will be your duty to keep anyone from using those rifles, and whatever happens you will stick to your post till I call you.”

“I understand. You can rely upon me,” Guy answered shortly.

“When you are in position,” Jack continued, “I shall sneak up to the gun and cut the prisoners loose. I’d give you that part of the job, Guy, old boy, as your father is there, but I have already been up there and know the ground. When we are ready I will slip across to you, and tell you how matters have gone. Then we will all cut away down the hill, fetch Mrs Robb and the kid, and strike round into the camp. Is that all clear?”

“As clear as daylight, old horse!” exclaimed Guy, with a suspicion of excitement in his voice. “I’m ready now. Let us set about it.”

Once more creeping forward on their knees, it was not long before Jack had guided his friend to the important post he was to occupy. Then he left him there, and, knife in hand, climbed up the hill.

The gun was now only a few yards away, and in little more than a minute Jack was close to it. Dropping flat upon the ground for a moment, he waited till Hans Schloss had moved out of sight. Then he scrambled forward and hastily dived beneath the enormous weapon. On either side of him were the massive wheels, and through the spokes Jack made out the figures of two men.

Rising slowly, he gently pulled the sleeve of one, and whispered in his ear: “Be silent for your life! I am a friend.”

The man gave a start, and almost cried out. Then he turned his head and answered: “Who are you? For God’s sake rescue us!”

Jack recognised the voice as Mr Hunter’s, and placing his lips close to his ear, whispered: “I am Jack Somerton. Stand still. I will cut you loose.”

Feeling along the spokes, he soon found that Mr Hunter’s wrists were lashed together to the hub of the wheel. He severed the cord with his knife.

Then he dived beneath the gun to the other prisoner, and having told him who he was, and that his son was close at hand, set him free also.

A moment later they were ready to start, Mr Hunter and Mr Richardson still standing against the wheels as though their lashings were secure.

“Hush, here comes the sentry!” Mr Hunter whispered as they were about to leave their posts.

Jack at once lay down upon the ground, and, opening the magazine of his rifle, slipped a cartridge in in readiness, in case there should be trouble.

A second later Hans Schloss swaggered up with his Mauser at the slope across his shoulder, and looked closely at each of the prisoners.

“Ha, Oom Hunter and Oom Richardson!” he laughed brutally, “this is a fine night for you. It is your last, my English friends, so make the most of it. Well, you are securely fastened, so I will leave you alone to think of your wives and your homes.”

Neither of the prisoners deigned to answer; but, had the vindictive and cowardly little German but known it, both were braced and ready to hurl themselves upon him and strangle the life out of him should he discover that their bonds were gone.

But, turning round with a sneering and cruel laugh, he walked back to his post, and all three at the gun breathed freely again. Another minute, and they would have hurried away, when a faint sound close in front of them attracted Jack’s attention. It was so faint that neither of the prisoners had heard it, but Jack’s trained ear told him that some men were approaching in the darkness.

“Wait, what is that?” he asked, detaining Mr Hunter and his comrade by the arm. “Surely the Boers are not coming up to work the gun!”

Next second all three became convinced that a large body of men was approaching, and even Hans Schloss had his suspicions aroused. He stopped in his lonely tramp abruptly, faced down the hill towards Ladysmith, and brought his rifle to his shoulder. An instant later a figure bounded into sight close in front of him, and the German fired and turned to fly. But he was too late. The flash of the rifle lit up the darkness, and to the astonishment of Jack and his two companions they saw a swarm of kilted men rushing headlong at the gun, while in front of them was the brawny giant, a fine Scotch lad from the Highlands, at whom the German had fired. The bullet evidently found a mark, for the soldier gave a fierce cry of anger and pain, and, bounding forward, buried his bayonet in Hans Schloss’s body, and with the strength of a Hercules hurled him over his shoulder just as a man might toss a bundle of hay with a pitchfork. Then someone shouted in the darkness, “At them boys! Surround the gun and keep everyone back till we have done the work!”

A second later there was a rush, and a hurricane of bullets swept across the top of the hill, splashing on the gun, and making it uncommonly uncomfortable for Jack and his friends, while the sharp crack of a Mauser close at hand and a series of terrified cries told them that Guy was performing his allotted task.

“Stop! Don’t fire! We are English!” Jack shouted.

“Cease fire there! Steady, men! Cover these fellows till I can get a look at them!” shouted the officer.

“Why, it’s Rawlings!” Jack cried in delight, recognising the voice of an officer he had met in Ladysmith. “Rawlings, I am Jack Somerton. Don’t let your men fire, and we will explain everything.”

At this moment a dark lantern was unmasked, and the rays flashed in Jack’s face.

“By Jove, it’s you right enough!” Rawlings cried. “Who are the others?”

“Prisoners who had been tied to the gun, and whom I and a friend were rescuing,” Jack answered hurriedly. “But I’ll tell you all about it later on. The Boers are away on the left, and that is the side you had best look to.”

“Why, who’s this?” the officer demanded a second later, as Guy was brought up a prisoner and halted in front of him between two Highlanders with fixed bayonets.

“Don’t know, sir,” one of the men answered shortly, with a Scotch accent. “He was firing away like mad down the hill, and there were a couple of dead Boers at his feet lying over a pile of rifles.”

“That’s my friend who was helping me, Rawlings,” Jack explained hastily. “Look here; how long are you likely to be on this hill?”

“Just as long as it takes to blow this infernal gun to pieces,” the officer coolly replied. “Why do you want to know? Can I help you?”

“Yes, we left a poor English lady and her child down there,” Jack answered, pointing down the hill. “I’ll go and fetch her, and then we will all get back together.”

“That’ll suit me, Somerton,” Rawlings replied. “A lady in distress, old boy, and you never need appeal twice to a soldier. Cut along then, and get back as soon as you can. Sergeant, detail three men to help. Quick about it, lads! Sing out when you’re near again.”

A minute later Jack and his escort were tearing down the hill, and having found Mrs Robb, returned with her to their friends.

“Ah! you’re there, are you, Somerton?” Rawlings cried calmly. “All right then! slip along down the hill and we’ll follow you. Now, where’s the lantern? That’s it. Line the top of the hill, boys, till the fuse begins to splutter. Then we’ll run for it.”

It was an exciting moment, and Jack, who had stayed behind, revelled in it, for this was just the kind of hazardous work that he enjoyed. But by this time the fuse was burning brightly, and the Highlanders fell back, having placed a heavy charge of gun-cotton in the breech of the Creuzot gun.

Five minutes later there was a loud report, and the breech had been blown to atoms and the rifling destroyed.

But it must not be supposed that all this time the sortie party had been left undisturbed. On the contrary, a dash, which had at first been merely in the nature of a gallant attempt to destroy a gun which had annoyed the garrison in the camp below, had now developed into a sharp affair. Recovering from their first surprise, the Boers on the left of the hill had leapt from their hard couches, and had moved upwards against the British troops in extended order. Soon their bullets began to swish close to the gun, and one or two of the Highlanders were wounded. But the others lay down behind boulders, and soon their rifle fire was answering the flashes below.

Immediately the fuse had become fairly alight the officer drew off his men, and, carrying the wounded, moved down the hill towards the camp. A minute later and Mrs Robb and her child were in the centre.

“Look out, sir!” the sergeant shouted at this moment; “they’ve got between us and the camp!”

“Then are you ready with those bayonets?” Rawlings cried cheerfully. “Charge right through them!”

Five minutes of wild, fierce fighting followed, for British troops, whether English, Irish, or Scotch, are perfect demons when their blood is roused and they are armed with that deadly weapon which none know better how to use. It seems to be an understood thing with them that, however much firing of guns there may be, and however thickly the bullets may fly, matters are not satisfactory and ended as they should be unless the bugle sounds “the charge”, and they rush with a cheer and hurl themselves upon the enemy.

The brave Highlanders, with their kilts blowing from side to side, rushed headlong at the Boers, and simply split them into two parties. Then they turned upon each one, and with a savage fierceness and a splendid disregard of the danger they incurred, forged a way into them and thrust them back at the points of the murderous bayonets.

Prominent amongst them was the giant who had ended Hans Schloss’s career, and by his side, using a bayonet which he had taken from a wounded soldier, was Jack Somerton, using it too with a vigour and a quickness which sent many a Boer to his last account.

“Get together there, me boys!” the Highlander by his side shouted. “Now, at ’em! Remember Majuba, and give them a taste of your steel!” His comrades answered with a hoarse cheer, and shouting “Remember Majuba!” fell upon the remaining Boers and put them to flight. Then they picked up those who had fallen and returned slowly to the camp, a rearguard marching behind them and answering the volleys discharged at them with a brisk fusillade.

Soon they were out of harm’s way, and stepped forward to the inspiriting wail of a bagpipe. About half an hour later it became light, and the whole garrison of Ladysmith who were free to do so turned out to welcome them. They had heard the firing, seen the flash of the gun-cotton which had destroyed the gun, and so learned that some of their number were making a sortie. It was a surprise to them as much as to the enemy; but to have published the news the day before would have meant a certain reverse, for in the town and camp, fraternising with our troops, were still men bought with Pretoria gold—spies and traitors who lived in the guise of harmless and refugee civilians, and yet were ready to send news of intended movements to the Boers.

But now that the sortie was an accomplished fact, and had proved such a signal success, the troops flocked out in hundreds and cheered the gallant party, relieving of their burdens those who were carrying the wounded.

Then a couple of ambulance wagons galloped up, and while one of them halted and took in the poor fellows, the other went ahead, one of the surgeons climbing in behind. A few hundred yards farther on a shell dropped and exploded near them, and a groan burst from all who were watching; for the work done for all who were helpless or hurt, by the medical staff, had already roused a feeling of deep gratitude in the hearts of the men.

Undaunted by the shell, and by another which quickly followed it, the ambulance wagon galloped on, a white flag with the red cross of Geneva flying above it. On arriving close to the hill, the surgeon was seen to leap out, and, followed by four stretcher-bearers, to walk hither and thither in search of the one or two men who had been left behind. Soon they found them, in the midst of a pile of wounded Boers, and, carrying them to the wagon, returned to the camp at a leisurely pace, the enemy this time letting them go unmolested.

Meanwhile the sortie party had almost been carried to their tents, while the officer who had been in command turned to the strangers who had so strangely joined his forces.

“What’s the matter, Somerton?” he cried. “You look awfully white. Not hit, I hope?”

“Oh, I’m all right! It’s nothing, thanks!” Jack answered. But his looks belied his words. He was deadly pale. His head was in a whirl, and now that all the excitement and danger was over, the power to control his feelings deserted him. His rifle dropped from his hand, he staggered forward, and fell senseless at the feet of his astonished friends.

Guy rushed to his side, and with the help of Rawlings, Mr Hunter, and Mr Richardson carried him to a field hospital which happened to be near. There it was found that a bullet had struck the magazine of his Mauser pistol, and, exploding the ammunition, had shattered the weapon and torn a deep wound in his side. But, strange to say, Jack had barely felt it at the time, though on the way back to the camp the pain had been excruciating. He had received the wound when charging with the bayonet, and the loss of blood which followed had at last told upon his strength.

When he recovered consciousness he was lying in a comfortable cot in a huge marquee, in which were fifteen others. In front of him, calmly stitching beneath the flap-like awning, was an army nursing sister, one of that band of noble women who follow our armies everywhere. She was stitching quietly, and seemed quite unconcerned when shell after shell, thrown from the Boer guns, fell in the camp.

Jack stirred, and at once gave vent to a sharp cry of pain, for the slightest movement caused him agony.

“Ah, so you’ve come to at last!” said the sister in a gentle voice, jumping up from her seat and coming to the side of his cot. “Now you must drink this. It is nasty stuff, but will do you good, and to-morrow, if you are strong enough, I will tell you how my life has been pestered these last two days by the hundreds of friends who have called to ask after you.”

“Friends!” said Jack feebly. “What friends? I have only a few here.”

“You have far more than you imagine,” the sister replied with a smile. “But I am disobeying orders. You are not to talk.”

With gentle hands she arranged his pillows and saw that he was comfortable, and Jack fell into an easy sleep as he was in the act of thanking her.

But on the following day he was unconscious again, for his wound was inflamed and he was in the height of a fever. Against this his iron constitution fought for two long weeks, during which he was tenderly looked after by the nurse, and watched with anxious feeling by the surgeons. And all this time Guy and his father and Mr Hunter hovered outside in the depths of despair, waiting impatiently for the first good news of their friend.

At last one day he showed signs of improvement, and two weeks later was rapidly recovering. The change in his condition caused a wave of gladness to spread over the beleaguered town, for Guy and his noble comrade, to whom he unstintingly and generously gave most of the credit, were the heroes of Ladysmith. Their adventures were detailed round many a camp fire, and if one soldier puffed more fiercely at his pipe, and swore beneath his breath that Jack was a downright good fellow, hundreds did, from the officers downwards.

As for Mrs Robb, the forlorn but brave little English lady whom the two young fellows had befriended at such risk to themselves, she was now quite happy once more, for her husband had escaped from his captors and had joined her in the camp.

And now to return for one brief moment to Frampton Grange, the family seat of the Somertons, and the amiable mistress and youth who resided there. Jack’s accident in London and his voyage to Africa had long ceased to be topics of interest to them, and, indeed, beyond wondering occasionally what had become of him, they never troubled themselves about him. Jack had written to them several times, but neither Mrs Somerton nor Frank had deigned to respond, and in consequence he had for months kept silent, so that they had no idea of his whereabouts.

But Dr Hanly was a regular correspondent of Jack’s, and when the latter wrote and said that they were on the eve of war, and that he should volunteer for service, the doctor sent the letter down to the Grange, so that Mrs Somerton might read it.

Who shall say what were the thoughts of this disappointed woman, or of the worldly son who lived with her? Frampton Grange was a charming and luxurious residence, and the legacy to which Jack was entitled at a certain age was by no means a small one. What if something happened to him? Then all would come to Mrs Somerton, and in due course to Frank. The very thought of it made the latter more unbearable, his airs and graces grew even more exasperating, and he finally became a veritable ruler of the house, with the result that there were many changes in the household. The first to leave was the old butler, who had been for years in the service of the family, and then one by one the other domestics quitted the house.

Kruger’s ultimatum was delivered, hostilities commenced, and mother and son scanned the newspapers and the long list of casualties with expectant feelings. Judge of their disappointment, then, when, instead of wounded, killed, or missing, Jack’s name appeared in large type, and beneath it a long article describing the adventures of a young Englishman, by name Jack Somerton, of a good old family at home, who had ridden from Kimberley to Johannesburg to aid the refugees, and had afterwards brought news to the beleaguered town, after having accomplished a gallant deed on the way.

No sooner had this appeared than another telegram announced his successful dash for Mafeking, and his subsequent daring ride to the north.

Then came silence. There was no news of him. Messages from Tuli and Mafeking stated that nothing further had been heard of him, and it was feared that he had been captured. But advices from Pretoria failed to mention his name amongst the lists of prisoners, and the master and mistress of Frampton Grange felt their hopes rise high.

But later, after more than a month of silence, the busy flash-light from Ladysmith explained how Jack Somerton had come nobly to the fore again.

Dr Hanly was beside himself with pride and pleasure, and no sooner had he read the news than he darted off to the Grange and congratulated Mrs Somerton. He was an observant man, was this little doctor; given to thinking charitably of everyone; but when he saw the little enthusiasm his intelligence caused he was astounded and disgusted, and at once left the house with the firm intention of never going there again till Jack returned.

Dr Hanly was not the only neighbour who showed his appreciation of our hero’s services to his country. From far and near people called to offer their congratulations, and letters poured in in shoals. So much so, indeed, that Mrs Somerton and her son gradually began to look upon the other side. They were not altogether bad or selfish, and in time they too, feeling a kind of reflected glory, began to think more kindly of the homeless lad they had treated so harshly. In this satisfactory condition we will leave them, and while Jack Somerton lies in his bed in that field hospital in the invested camp at Ladysmith we will return to the British troops in other parts of South Africa.

It will be remembered that on the receipt of Kruger’s ultimatum England had despatched a large army over the 6000 miles of water which cut her off from South Africa, and this force had arrived at its destination in due course, armed and ready for war, and accompanied by supplies. In addition, local colonial forces were rapidly enlisted, for it was apparent to all that no one could approach so close to the Boers in slimness and astuteness in fighting as these hardy young sons of the old country, who, finding themselves crowded out by the more fortunate ones, had betaken themselves to this fair land of South Africa to set up new homes. And with them, to do all and every arm of the service justice, must be classed the gallant volunteers from Australia, Canada, and New Zealand. For the most part used to a rough life in the bush, they proved most valuable scouts, and were as fine a body of men as could be met with.

Thus it will be seen that we had a large army in the field, and when it is recollected that some 10,000 troops were hemmed in at Ladysmith, while others kept the foe at bay in Cape Colony, Kimberley, and Mafeking, it will be realised that England was well represented.

A glance at the map of South Africa will show the four railway systems leading into or close by the two republics in arms against us. Those who know the country through which they run believed that General Buller, the able leader of the British forces, would invade the Orange Free State by way of the Orange River, and thus draw off the investing forces from Ladysmith and the other besieged towns.

But a little consideration will show that such a task was all too formidable for the army we had accumulated. To begin with, the Boers far outnumbered us—not that that damped the spirits of our men, but it was a fact to be seriously reckoned with. Then Cape Colony was seething with sedition, and a revolt was to be feared unless troops were there to keep the rebels in check. But perhaps the greatest difficulty was that this necessity for troops in all parts of the country, and along the railway to the Orange River, the absolute importance of keeping the communications open from the advancing army right away to the sea, and above all the large force required to keep the Boers in check in Natal and south of Kimberley, capped the strength of our army corps to such an extent that when all demands had been supplied its numbers had dwindled so alarmingly that the idea of an invasion had to be promptly abandoned.

The urgent necessity for the timely relief of the three beleaguered towns now became obvious, for the fall of any one of them, but particularly of Ladysmith, would have been a heavy blow to our prestige in the country, and would have increased the already growing sedition.

Accordingly Lord Methuen was despatched with a force of some 10,000 men to Kimberley, while the remaining troops were sentviaDurban into Natal. A few others were placed under General Gatacre’s command, and, having sailed to East London, took train for Queenstown, while another force, under General French, wentviaPort Elizabeth towards Naauwpoort.

To detail the regiments or the exact numbers in each column would be to tax the patience of the most generous of readers, as would also a full description of the various skirmishes which each had with the enemy. They started from the sea base by railway, and as they reached the invaded country they followed the rails, and repaired the parts which had been torn up by the Boers. Thus, their communications being assured, they had abundant supplies of ammunition and of food, and could pass their wounded down the line a few hours after the injuries were received.

But though this means of transport saved a vast deal of labour, and for the moment allowed our generals to dispense with wagons and mules, it had one decidedly important disadvantage, for, inasmuch as we were tied to it, the Boers knew weeks beforehand what part they would have to defend, and made preparations accordingly. And this was particularly the case on the west and in Natal.

In the case of the former, a large force of Boers, under Commandant Cronje, opposed Methuen’s advance just above Hope Town. Heights had been selected at Belmont, and these had been carefully entrenched. But the Guards, the Marines, and the others who composed the force dashed at them, and captured them at the point of the bayonet.

A few miles farther north, at Graspan, another position had been taken by the Boers, and once again we drove them out of it.

But there was sterner work before this truly gallant column, for, though they had driven the enemy before them on each occasion, the lack of a really large mobile arm, in the shape of a cavalry force, hampered them seriously, and allowed the Boers to retire where otherwise they might have been routed. Consequently they were far from beaten, and when the column reached the banks of the Modder River it was to find a long line of ridges entrenched on the other side, and the bridge blown down. In addition, the knowledge that the British must pass on in this direction had allowed the Boers full scope in the way of artillery, a most important arm, and instead of the field-guns which we were forced for the most part to make use of, they had mounted long-range weapons of position, against which only our naval 4.7 cannon could effectively fight.

The battle of Modder River was a murderous affair, but once again, in spite of severe losses, we damaged the enemy to such an extent that, though not driven from his entrenchments, he deserted them overnight, and under cover of darkness retired on the long ridges of Spytfontein and Magersfontein, only a few miles south of Kimberley.

It was an exceedingly formidable and well-chosen position. In spite of the most complete reconnaissances the trenches remained hidden, and the Boers held their fire, refusing to be drawn into showing their exact whereabouts till an attack was made in force.

It was a crafty and exceedingly wise proceeding on their part, for when, in the grey of dawn, our Highland Brigade advanced, they stumbled, in close order, upon the first line of trenches before they were aware of it. And the Boers, who were almost taken by surprise, poured murderous volleys into their ranks as they marched in quarter column, and almost decimated them. It was a most unfortunate affair, and though we covered the retirement of the brigade, and indeed killed and wounded large numbers of the Boers, we failed to turn them out of their trenches, and retired on our camp, checked for the first time in a memorable march, in which in seven days we had fought no fewer than three successful engagements.

It was a check, not a reverse, though the disaster to the Highlanders was a serious affair. But it created a sensation, and formed one of those irritating pin-pricks which roused the British lion to do his utmost, and caused us to pour into Africa an army larger than had ever before been transported across the sea. How those troops were raised, how the patriotic spirit of the nation showed itself, will be described in due course. For the moment we shall leave Methuen’s column safely entrenched in front of the Boers, waiting for reinforcements from oversea ere they made a second attempt at an almost impossible task, and will mention the fate in store for Gatacre’s force. This small column, with its base at Queenstown, had a disastrous beginning. A night march to Stormberg, where the enemy was in force, was attempted. A miscalculation brought the troops into an extremely dangerous position, and a large number were taken prisoners, the remainder retiring in good order.

What happened to the other column in Natal is of so much importance that it must be described in fuller detail.

Chapter Sixteen.The Attempt upon the Guns.It was in the early days of September that Jack and his friend reached the beleaguered camp of Ladysmith, and found safety there after their adventurous flight from Pretoria. The former, as has been shown, knew little about the troops or the movements of the enemy, for he had been struck down by a serious wound. But he was a strong and healthy lad, and, once he got over his fever, made rapid progress; so much so that when Christmas-day came round he was sufficiently well to recline outside the tent and look on at the camp. The sunlight and the air did him a vast amount of good, and when the New-Year arrived he was able to walk with comfort, and was almost himself again.“Jack, how would you like a drive?” cried Guy on this festive day, entering the small bell-tent which had now been allotted to his friend. “I’ve got the loan of a light cart and a couple of horses, and if you care to dodge an occasional shell we’ll make a tour round the camp and have a look at the boys. A real good time they are having too, and there is to be a big football-match this afternoon between the Highlanders and the Rifles, which will be well worth looking at.”“Just what I should like,” Jack answered. “When shall we start?”“Oh, in half an hour! I’ll get the cart at once.”Accordingly, when Guy drove up in a comfortable Cape cart, Jack climbed into it, and accompanied him round the camp. It proved to be highly interesting. The huts and houses and the long lines of tents in various parts were still much the same as when he was last in Ladysmith, but what was different was the stretch of trenches which had since been dug, and near which the soldiers lived, ready at any moment to man them and keep back the enemy.Ladysmith was for all the world like Aldershot. It was the big camp of South Africa, and probably for that reason had been garrisoned and held, when the southern bank of the River Tugela would have been a more favourable position. For health and the collection of a large body of men it was certainly not to be beaten. There was ample room for camp and town, and a wide plain over which cavalry could manoeuvre, and field-days be practised by the foot regiments. In addition, it was high land and supplied with excellent water.But it had obvious disadvantages when held against a besieging force. With trenches and redoubts the encircling hills could be held, but beyond these there was a second outer circle, from which a fierce bombardment could be kept up by the Boers. Guy and Jack drove round the defences, and noticed that the chief position was to the south of the camp, at Wagon Hill and Caesar’s Camp, and it was near the latter that Jack’s field hospital lay.Outside, the Boers had mounted big Creuzot guns on several hills, and from these, ever since the camp was surrounded on October 30th, they had kept up a more or less severe bombardment, throwing immense numbers of shells into the town. But the results were not very creditable. Football and cricket matches were played in full view of the gunners, while the officers played polo. Occasionally a shell would plump in their midst and send them all flying, but very little damage was done.As Guy and Jack drove across towards the northern part a huge shell pitched just in front of their horses, and, burying itself deep in the ground, exploded, throwing dirt all over them.“Shall we go on, Jack?” asked Guy. “Those Boer fellows have spotted us, I expect. Perhaps you don’t feel quite up to it just now that you are weak after your wound.”“Humbug!” was Jack’s answer. “Get ahead, Guy; it’s only a chance shot that will hit us.”“Ah, I thought you’d say that!” Guy continued; “and the majority of fellows who have been hurt say that had they been out in the open they could have easily run away. But a few shells have burst in houses and tents, and some people have been killed. Of course the Boers have pounded the town, and have even sent a few shots through the big hospital. At any rate it has been hot work in there, and now all non-combatants and the women and children live over on the neutral ground at Intombi Spruit. The troops have nicknamed their camp Funkemburg.”At this moment someone called out to Guy to pull up, and Rawlings, the officer who had conducted the sortie which had helped Jack and his friends back into Ladysmith, came up to the cart.“Hallo, Jack Somerton!” he cried heartily, shaking him by the hand. “When are you going to turn out of that hospital and join Guy in our mess. He tells us you have lots of yarns to give, and he says something about a girl near Kimberley. When are you coming, old boy? We’d like awfully to hear all about that little affair.”“Well, I hope to be out in a few days now,” Jack replied with a laugh. “But shut up about that Kimberley business! Guy, what have you been telling these fellows?”There was a loud laugh at Jack’s expense, and then Rawlings climbed into the cart and accompanied the two young fellows on their drive.“I can tell you, Jack,” he said, “that you had better hurry up and get your strength back, for those beggars outside are getting restless again. Just fancy, they have been firing away at us, and looking into the camp, for two months now, and, much as they long to take it, they have only made one feeble assault. We beat them back then, and if they try the game again I expect we shall give them a better hiding. You chaps haven’t had all the fun to yourselves. We may be shut in here, but we’ve drawn a few of old Krugers teeth. We’ve played that game of blowing up his guns twice, in addition to that time when we three had the pleasure of meeting. And we’ve also upset him a bit by sending out the cavalry. If it had been a British force investing Boers in Ladysmith, I’m open to bet a new hat that we’d have turned them out of it long ago. Just fancy looking on for two whole months! Well, I expect they will wake up again soon, especially now that Buller has been checked at Colenso and cannot release us at present. I can tell you, chaps, it’s a beast of a position. You see these hills round here? Well, the main Boer army, under Joubert, blocks the country between this and the River Tugela, and that country is choke-full of rocky hills and kopjes. To reach this camp and set us free the British troops have first to cross the river, and then they have to fight their way foot by foot past all those hills, every one of which will have guns mounted on the summit, and be entrenched from the base up to the guns. It is a difficult undertaking, and Buller and his troops, in spite of the greatest bravery, failed in the first step—the crossing of the river—on December 15th. The heliograph has told us the whole story, and now we know that the Boers had entrenched the whole of the north bank of the river for miles on either side of Colenso. You’ve seen our trenches here, and can guess how difficult it is to locate them from a distance.“The Boers, with their usual cunning, had concealed theirs perfectly, and the heaviest artillery fire failed to make them disclose them. There was nothing else for it but an assault over an open stretch of country, just the kind of work that our men are fitted for, but work which is terribly trying.“With splendid dash, General Hart’s brigade moved forward on the left to the drift across the river, supported by General Hildyard’s brigade, guns accompanying both. But the drift, which is usually fordable, was now too deep, for the Boers had dammed the river. Added to that, all those who crossed were under a terrific rifle fire. Still, our lads did it, and got to the other side, only to find the position untenable. It was altogether terribly hot work, and it was soon seen that a frontal attack could not succeed. Buller recognised it early, and skilfully withdrew his men.“But one unfortunate affair happened. The guns galloped forward to support the infantry, but got so close to the masked trenches of the Boers that all the horses were shot down immediately, and nearly all the gunners. They made a gallant fight of it, but they had fallen into an ambush, and in spite of the desperate efforts made to get the guns away, only two were saved, the others being captured by the enemy.“During the battle Colenso was occupied by our troops, but later on was evacuated. In the evening, after having sustained severe losses in men and guns, our army retired to its camp. The Boers, too, suffered very heavily in spite of rocks and boulders.“It was a check, and a severe check, but our boys went back that night not a bit disheartened; and now, by all accounts, they are itching to make another attempt. Meanwhile, here we are, poor little Ladysmith, surrounded on every side, garrisoned by some 9000 men on half-rations, with no luxuries, and with typhoid fever and dysentery raging amongst us.“It’s enough to dispirit anyone, but we are hopeful still; and I guarantee, if you come to our footer match this afternoon, you will watch as good a game as you could see at home.“But mark my words, you chaps. The Boers are getting restless. Reinforcements are being hurried up-country to Buller, besides extra guns, and they know very well that he is only getting everything ready before making another—and let us hope this time successful—attempt. Their aim and object is to capture this camp before he comes. They are getting desperate, for to fail to take us will make them the laughing-stock of the world. But an assault is distasteful to the Boer. Nothing goes so much against his grain, unless perhaps it is a British bayonet. But he will try it, and when he does we shall have our work cut out. There, now you know all about it, and if you hurry up and get strong, Jack, you’ll be able to take a hand in the affair.”“Well, I feel almost fit for a tussle now,” Jack laughed, “and if the camp is assaulted you may be sure I shall get hold of a rifle somehow and join in the fun.”“I’m sure you will,” Rawlings answered heartily. “Such a fire-eater as you are would be certain to be somewhere in it. But come along to our mess and lunch. They can spare you from the hospital for once, and I don’t suppose it matters much what you eat, now that you are up and about.”Jack accepted the invitation, and much enjoyed it, for it was the first time he had had a repast out of hospital since he came to Ladysmith. After lunch he was given a big chair and a large cigar, and ordered to tell the story of the defence of the farmhouse near Kimberley.He obeyed the order, and had to put up with a good deal of good-natured chaff. Then he drove off with Guy and Rawlings to the football ground.It was an exciting and fast game, and was closely contested, there being little to choose between the smart riflemen and the brawny Highlanders. The whole camp was there to look on, and evidently the Boers were also watching through their field-glasses, for in the midst of a severe tussle, and when the two sides were grouped close together, there was a screaming noise overhead, and a huge Creuzot shell plunged into the middle of them, narrowly missing one man’s head, and buried itself deep in the ground.Instantly the umpire’s whistle sounded, and he shouted: “Half-time, boys!”A roar of laughter followed, and all the players decamped hastily and threw themselves on the ground. A second later there was a muffled roar, sand and earth were driven in all directions, and a large fragment of shell whizzed across the ground, passed close to Jack’s head, and tore a huge rent in a galvanised-iron shed behind him.Then the umpire’s whistle sounded again, and the game was proceeded with, one and all treating the matter as a joke.That evening when Jack got back to his tent he was tired out, but by the dim light from a lantern he perused, with many a chuckle, the pages of one of the two papers published in the camp. It wasThe Lyre, and purported to contain nothing but untruths.On the evening of January 5th, as Jack was reclining on his chair looking round the camp with his field-glasses, he noticed that amongst the men passing to Ladysmith from Intombi Spruit, or “Funkemburg”, were three whose movements were suspicious. They were dressed like colonial volunteers, and carried rifles. Passing separately across the open ground, they pushed forward without hesitation, and, once inside the camp of Ladysmith, walked in the direction of Wagon Hill, where each in turn disappeared into a hut which had been almost smashed to pieces by one of the enemy’s shells.Jack watched them, curiously at first, wondering why they did not come across from the neutral ground together, and what business they had to be out of the camp; and then suspiciously, for their movements were peculiar. They looked about them cautiously, and one by one dived into the hut. Here they remained, and though he fixed his glasses in that direction for half an hour there was no sign of them, and they did not even appear when the bugle sounded the “Fall in!” all over the camp, and the garrison turned out of their tents and formed up for the evening inspection.“That is queer!” he muttered suspiciously. “Who can they be? Not civilians, I am sure, for they have no business over in this direction. I don’t like the look of things, and I’ll keep my eyes upon those beggars.”A few minutes later, as Sir George White and his staff rode on to the nearest parade-ground and the guard there presented arms to their commanding-officer, a man slipped out from the back of the hut, and, having peered in all directions, struck the wall with his rifle. Jack fixed his glasses upon him and waited. Almost immediately two men emerged, and having looked about them suspiciously, fell in, and, shouldering their weapons, marched off towards the heights of Caesar’s Camp, with the one who had first left the hut walking by their side.“Well, that’s rummy!” exclaimed Jack aloud. “What can they be doing? I suppose they are going to relieve the pickets, or the guards over the guns. But it is an unusual time. Of course I know that the colonials take their turn, but they are generally marched up to change guard just before the evening parade. I’ll just watch, and at the same time keep out of sight, for they will pass close by me.”He promptly entered his tent, and, lying full-length on the ground, lifted the flap, and again watched the volunteers through his field-glasses. Soon they were close at hand, and though it was already getting dusk, something about the figure of the officer caught his notice, and that, combined with the peculiar manner in which he threw out his feet, set Jack wondering who he was.“I’m sure I’ve had something to do with that fellow before,” he muttered. “Who can he be?”Jack puzzled his brains, but could not solve the problem, and was on the point of giving it up in disgust when the merest chance disclosed it to him. There was a sentry standing in front of an iron hut used as the paymaster’s office, and as the volunteers got opposite him, and just in front of Jack, the watchful man hailed them and shouted: “Halt! who goes there?” saluting the party at the same moment by shouldering his rifle.He was evidently a young soldier, and eager to be considered wide-awake, or else he would have remembered that it was already dusk and no salute was required. Still it served Jack’s purpose, for a second later “Eyes right!” and “Gun picket!” was shouted out in a voice which made him tingle from head to foot and tremble with excitement, for the voice and the figure together told him that it was none other than Piet Maartens, his old enemy, who had so nearly proved the death of him in the Transvaal magazine.“Good heavens!” Jack exclaimed in astonishment. “What does it mean? Can he have come over to our side to fight against the Boers? No, that’s impossible. He must be a spy, and, by George! those other men with him must belong to the enemy too.”Jack sprang to his feet and gazed after the squad of volunteers. Then he thought for a few moments, and, having determined what to do, he dived into the tent again, and, snatching up his rifle, ran across to call Guy Richardson.“Quick, Guy!” he said, pushing his head into the hut in which Guy and Mr Hunter lived. “Come out here! I want you both! Bring your rifles!”An instant later all were walking rapidly towards the heights of Caesar’s Camp, the southern boundary of the defences of Ladysmith, and a position of the most vital importance to the garrison, for with the Boers in possession of it their guns would have forced our troops to surrender.“There’s some treachery going on!” Jack whispered as they walked along side by side. Then he explained what he had seen, and told them how Piet Maartens, and two men dressed presumably as colonial volunteers, were marching towards Caesar’s Camp.“There is certainly something wrong,” Mr Hunter replied hurriedly. “Now what had we better do! Ah, I know! You two follow them, and I will go to the quarters of the officer in command of the pickets to-night and warn him. What can those spies want! Keep your eyes open, lads. It looks as though our friends were about to make an attempt to take Ladysmith.”A moment later Mr Hunter was gone, and Jack and Guy hurried on till they were within sight of the men they were following. It was now almost dark, and having ascertained the direction in which they were marching, the two took to their heels, and, making a wide détour, ran up to the trenches at the top of the hill.“Wait here, Guy, while I go over and speak to the officer on duty,” said Jack. “I’ll be back directly.”Slipping across the turf, he was soon challenged by a sentry and brought to a sudden stop with the man’s bayonet at his chest. Then he was taken to the officer.“I’ve some important news to give you,” he said. “Can I see you alone!”“Certainly! Come in here,” was the answer; and Jack was led into a trench.“There’s something going on to-night,” Jack whispered. “A Boer I knew in Johannesburg is marching up here with two men, all dressed as volunteers. They are all spies, I believe, and I have come to warn you!”“Spies! By Jove, we’ll get hold of them immediately they appear!” exclaimed the officer.“Don’t you think it would be well to let them do whatever they are coming for,” said Jack thoughtfully. “You might set a watch on them, and as soon as you have found out their game arrest them. I should warn your sergeants and a few of the older men, so as to be ready. Mr Hunter thinks it looks as though the Boers were about to make a rush.”“By George, they’d better not!” the officer exclaimed. “But I’ll do as you suggest, and what is more, I’ll send a man over to warn the fellows on Wagon Hill.”“Very well! I’ll slip back, and follow Piet Maartens and his friends up,” said Jack; and, stepping from the trench, he nodded to the young officer and ran across to Guy.A few minutes later the Boer spies appeared marching stealthily up the hill, and as soon as they had passed by, Jack and Guy fell in behind them. They kept steadily on, halting for a few seconds now and again to listen and glance cautiously round them. Soon they were at the top of the heights, when they turned to the left, and after proceeding some two hundred yards came to a stop directly behind a battery of field-guns placed in a most commanding position to rake the flats below. They stood unguarded and unattended, save that below them, on the farther side of the hill and some distance away on either hand, pickets were posted.“Looks as though they were going to play some game with the guns,” whispered Guy. “What do you think, Jack? It would suit their purpose well to destroy our cannon and then assault us.”“I think you are right, Guy. Let us hide up here and watch. At present I do not think they will do much, for it is too light, but in another hour perhaps they will make a move. By that time they will be surrounded.”At this moment Piet Maartens rose to his knees from the hollow in which he and his two companions had thrown themselves, and, not seeing anyone, all three stole forward about fifty paces, and again lay prone upon the ground, where they remained without a move, save that now and again one of them raised his head and attempted to pierce the gloom. But the night had already fallen, and it would have required more than the unaided eye to distinguish any but a very close object.Meanwhile Jack and Guy had crept into a good position near at hand, and feeling sure that the officer in charge of the trenches had taken due precautions to surround the Boer spies, they sat down in silence and waited to see what would happen.“Stay here a moment,” said Jack, seeing that at present nothing was likely to happen, “I’ll go and get that officer, and then there will be official evidence against those fellows. It looks as though we should have them beautifully.”Leaving Guy crouching behind a mound of earth, Jack slipped back, and, having reached the trenches, was soon in conversation with the officer.“I wonder what their game is,” said the latter. “At any rate we shall nab them all, for I have put a circle of men all round the guns.”“I believe they are going to damage the weapons in some way or other,” Jack answered, “and in that case they will certainly use explosives. I came over to ask you to join us at a spot where we can see everything. The sentries on the guns show well up against the sky-line, so that when these fellows get on their feet we can see at once when they move. By the way, it would be wise to warn the gunners to be careful when the time comes for using their weapons.”“Yes, I’ll do that,” exclaimed the officer. “Who knows! these spies may fix a charge of dynamite. Wait here a moment while I give the order.”A few minutes later he joined Jack once more, and both crept to Guy’s side and then moved forward, for Piet Maartens and his companions had crawled closer to the guns. Raising their heads cautiously, they peeped over a bank and saw the guns, only a few yards in front of them, standing dimly defined against the star-lit sky, while close beside them crouched the Boer spies.Piet Maartens lay a few yards in front upon the edge of the hill, and as Jack and his friends watched him they saw him lift his head and look steadily in either direction, and then turn round as if to make sure that he was unobserved.Instantly all three sank flat on the ground, but a minute later, when they peered over the bank again, he was facing down the hill, and as they looked, he stood up and produced what was evidently a pair of field-glasses and applied them to his eyes.“He’s trying to make out where the pickets are,” whispered Jack. “Keep down, you fellows, he’s turning this way now.”“He can look as long as he likes,” chuckled the young officer, “but he won’t see a single man beyond the regular outposts. I ordered all my fellows to lie flat and remain without a move till they hear me shout.”“That’s good,” muttered Jack. “Halloa! what’s that?”As Jack spoke, one of the Boer spies gave a low warning hiss between his teeth, and a second later a corporal and two men swung by in the darkness on their way to relieve an outlying picket. They had approached so silently that Piet Maartens was taken by surprise, and was instantly perceived. But his coolness did not desert him. He instantly replaced his glasses and challenged.“Relieving picket,” shouted the corporal, and passed on without a halt.“Pass, relieving picket. All’s well,” Piet Maartens answered, and, having waited a minute, again produced his glasses.Five minutes later the corporal and the men he had relieved returned, and silence settled down upon the hilltop.It was a trying time for Jack and his friends. Crouching behind the mound of earth, with their eyes glued upon the Boer spies in front, they expected them to make some attempt upon the guns at any moment. But an hour dragged slowly past, and then another, and the officer was on the point of shouting to his men to close in, when Piet Maartens was again seen to make use of his glasses.“Wait a moment,” Jack whispered, placing his hand upon the young officer’s arm to restrain him. “They are moving now, and the fun will begin.”An instant later, having satisfied himself that there was no one about, Piet Maartens slipped stealthily to the side of one of his fellow-spies, and, extracting something from his haversack, approached one of the guns. There was a faint click, then a few seconds of silence, which was followed by a metallic “clang”. Once more he returned to his comrade, and approached another gun. And all the while Jack and his friends looked on in breathless silence. In all, there were twelve weapons belonging to the Field-Artillery, and each in turn Piet Maartens visited. Then he returned to his former position, and, having looked round in all directions, gave a soft whistle. At the signal the other spies joined him, and immediately disappeared over the brow of the hill and climbed down the opposite side. Instantly the young officer rushed up to the guns, accompanied by Jack and Guy, and, drawing his revolver, shouted “Look out, men!”The next moment a ring of soldiers leapt to their feet, and with fixed bayonets faced the party of Boer spies.“Lay down your arms, Piet Maartens. It’s all up, and if you lift a hand you will all be shot like dogs!” Jack shouted, rushing forward at the same time and presenting his rifle at his old enemy’s head.A snarl of rage escaped from the Boer’s lips, and he made a frantic effort to unsling his rifle; but long before he could get it free the circle of soldiers rushed in and knocked all three to the ground. A minute later they were being marched towards the town, surrounded by a strong party in charge of a subaltern.“Now we’ll have a look at the guns,” exclaimed the officer. “Sergeant, bring along a lantern and a couple of men, and don’t attempt to touch the guns till I have inspected them. Come and help me, Somerton. I expect that beggar has placed a charge of dynamite in the breech.”A few moments later a lantern was produced, and, followed by Jack and Guy, the officer looked closely at the breeches of the guns. At first there was nothing to be seen. But a close inspection revealed a thin piece of wire attached to the handle of the breech, passing from there into the inside of the weapon.“Don’t open it, whatever you do,” cried Jack in a warning voice. “It is a regular trap for the gunners, and the opening of the breech would fire the charge inside. Snip the wires, and then you will be able to learn all about it.”A wire nipper was now produced, and the piece attached to the handle having been cautiously snipped, the breech was opened and disclosed a charge of gun-cotton inside arranged so that the mere opening of the handle would pull the wire and explode the charge, and so destroy the gun immediately.“Ah, I told you there was a plot on hand!” exclaimed Jack with satisfaction. “They know that we have guns here, and they sent those spies in to arrange matters, so that when the rush comes and they attack the hill, we should be left without a single weapon to fire at them as they cross the ground below. Well, I fancy we shall be able to open their eyes. It’s getting on for midnight now, and we can expect them very soon.”“Right you are, Somerton,” the officer replied. “There’s no mistake about it. They are going to have a real good try to take us, and, thanks to you, we shall be ready for them. I’ll go off and report the matter, and meanwhile I’ll have all the guns loaded with shrapnel. By the way, what are you going to do?”“Oh, Guy and I will give a hand, if we may!” answered Jack.“My dear chap, every man of us will be wanted, and the more we can get the better. Come into my trench, if you like. It’s certain to be a hot corner, being so close to the guns.”Jack and his friend eagerly accepted the invitation, and accompanied the officer back to the trench. Here they were joined by Mr Hunter, and a few minutes after his arrival some Highlanders and Riflemen put in an appearance. Then all lay down, while the gunners trained their weapons upon the flats below, and loaded them with shrapnel. Outposts were doubled, and every man waited in dead silence for the assault, prepared to hurl back the attacking Boers at the point of the bayonet.

It was in the early days of September that Jack and his friend reached the beleaguered camp of Ladysmith, and found safety there after their adventurous flight from Pretoria. The former, as has been shown, knew little about the troops or the movements of the enemy, for he had been struck down by a serious wound. But he was a strong and healthy lad, and, once he got over his fever, made rapid progress; so much so that when Christmas-day came round he was sufficiently well to recline outside the tent and look on at the camp. The sunlight and the air did him a vast amount of good, and when the New-Year arrived he was able to walk with comfort, and was almost himself again.

“Jack, how would you like a drive?” cried Guy on this festive day, entering the small bell-tent which had now been allotted to his friend. “I’ve got the loan of a light cart and a couple of horses, and if you care to dodge an occasional shell we’ll make a tour round the camp and have a look at the boys. A real good time they are having too, and there is to be a big football-match this afternoon between the Highlanders and the Rifles, which will be well worth looking at.”

“Just what I should like,” Jack answered. “When shall we start?”

“Oh, in half an hour! I’ll get the cart at once.”

Accordingly, when Guy drove up in a comfortable Cape cart, Jack climbed into it, and accompanied him round the camp. It proved to be highly interesting. The huts and houses and the long lines of tents in various parts were still much the same as when he was last in Ladysmith, but what was different was the stretch of trenches which had since been dug, and near which the soldiers lived, ready at any moment to man them and keep back the enemy.

Ladysmith was for all the world like Aldershot. It was the big camp of South Africa, and probably for that reason had been garrisoned and held, when the southern bank of the River Tugela would have been a more favourable position. For health and the collection of a large body of men it was certainly not to be beaten. There was ample room for camp and town, and a wide plain over which cavalry could manoeuvre, and field-days be practised by the foot regiments. In addition, it was high land and supplied with excellent water.

But it had obvious disadvantages when held against a besieging force. With trenches and redoubts the encircling hills could be held, but beyond these there was a second outer circle, from which a fierce bombardment could be kept up by the Boers. Guy and Jack drove round the defences, and noticed that the chief position was to the south of the camp, at Wagon Hill and Caesar’s Camp, and it was near the latter that Jack’s field hospital lay.

Outside, the Boers had mounted big Creuzot guns on several hills, and from these, ever since the camp was surrounded on October 30th, they had kept up a more or less severe bombardment, throwing immense numbers of shells into the town. But the results were not very creditable. Football and cricket matches were played in full view of the gunners, while the officers played polo. Occasionally a shell would plump in their midst and send them all flying, but very little damage was done.

As Guy and Jack drove across towards the northern part a huge shell pitched just in front of their horses, and, burying itself deep in the ground, exploded, throwing dirt all over them.

“Shall we go on, Jack?” asked Guy. “Those Boer fellows have spotted us, I expect. Perhaps you don’t feel quite up to it just now that you are weak after your wound.”

“Humbug!” was Jack’s answer. “Get ahead, Guy; it’s only a chance shot that will hit us.”

“Ah, I thought you’d say that!” Guy continued; “and the majority of fellows who have been hurt say that had they been out in the open they could have easily run away. But a few shells have burst in houses and tents, and some people have been killed. Of course the Boers have pounded the town, and have even sent a few shots through the big hospital. At any rate it has been hot work in there, and now all non-combatants and the women and children live over on the neutral ground at Intombi Spruit. The troops have nicknamed their camp Funkemburg.”

At this moment someone called out to Guy to pull up, and Rawlings, the officer who had conducted the sortie which had helped Jack and his friends back into Ladysmith, came up to the cart.

“Hallo, Jack Somerton!” he cried heartily, shaking him by the hand. “When are you going to turn out of that hospital and join Guy in our mess. He tells us you have lots of yarns to give, and he says something about a girl near Kimberley. When are you coming, old boy? We’d like awfully to hear all about that little affair.”

“Well, I hope to be out in a few days now,” Jack replied with a laugh. “But shut up about that Kimberley business! Guy, what have you been telling these fellows?”

There was a loud laugh at Jack’s expense, and then Rawlings climbed into the cart and accompanied the two young fellows on their drive.

“I can tell you, Jack,” he said, “that you had better hurry up and get your strength back, for those beggars outside are getting restless again. Just fancy, they have been firing away at us, and looking into the camp, for two months now, and, much as they long to take it, they have only made one feeble assault. We beat them back then, and if they try the game again I expect we shall give them a better hiding. You chaps haven’t had all the fun to yourselves. We may be shut in here, but we’ve drawn a few of old Krugers teeth. We’ve played that game of blowing up his guns twice, in addition to that time when we three had the pleasure of meeting. And we’ve also upset him a bit by sending out the cavalry. If it had been a British force investing Boers in Ladysmith, I’m open to bet a new hat that we’d have turned them out of it long ago. Just fancy looking on for two whole months! Well, I expect they will wake up again soon, especially now that Buller has been checked at Colenso and cannot release us at present. I can tell you, chaps, it’s a beast of a position. You see these hills round here? Well, the main Boer army, under Joubert, blocks the country between this and the River Tugela, and that country is choke-full of rocky hills and kopjes. To reach this camp and set us free the British troops have first to cross the river, and then they have to fight their way foot by foot past all those hills, every one of which will have guns mounted on the summit, and be entrenched from the base up to the guns. It is a difficult undertaking, and Buller and his troops, in spite of the greatest bravery, failed in the first step—the crossing of the river—on December 15th. The heliograph has told us the whole story, and now we know that the Boers had entrenched the whole of the north bank of the river for miles on either side of Colenso. You’ve seen our trenches here, and can guess how difficult it is to locate them from a distance.

“The Boers, with their usual cunning, had concealed theirs perfectly, and the heaviest artillery fire failed to make them disclose them. There was nothing else for it but an assault over an open stretch of country, just the kind of work that our men are fitted for, but work which is terribly trying.

“With splendid dash, General Hart’s brigade moved forward on the left to the drift across the river, supported by General Hildyard’s brigade, guns accompanying both. But the drift, which is usually fordable, was now too deep, for the Boers had dammed the river. Added to that, all those who crossed were under a terrific rifle fire. Still, our lads did it, and got to the other side, only to find the position untenable. It was altogether terribly hot work, and it was soon seen that a frontal attack could not succeed. Buller recognised it early, and skilfully withdrew his men.

“But one unfortunate affair happened. The guns galloped forward to support the infantry, but got so close to the masked trenches of the Boers that all the horses were shot down immediately, and nearly all the gunners. They made a gallant fight of it, but they had fallen into an ambush, and in spite of the desperate efforts made to get the guns away, only two were saved, the others being captured by the enemy.

“During the battle Colenso was occupied by our troops, but later on was evacuated. In the evening, after having sustained severe losses in men and guns, our army retired to its camp. The Boers, too, suffered very heavily in spite of rocks and boulders.

“It was a check, and a severe check, but our boys went back that night not a bit disheartened; and now, by all accounts, they are itching to make another attempt. Meanwhile, here we are, poor little Ladysmith, surrounded on every side, garrisoned by some 9000 men on half-rations, with no luxuries, and with typhoid fever and dysentery raging amongst us.

“It’s enough to dispirit anyone, but we are hopeful still; and I guarantee, if you come to our footer match this afternoon, you will watch as good a game as you could see at home.

“But mark my words, you chaps. The Boers are getting restless. Reinforcements are being hurried up-country to Buller, besides extra guns, and they know very well that he is only getting everything ready before making another—and let us hope this time successful—attempt. Their aim and object is to capture this camp before he comes. They are getting desperate, for to fail to take us will make them the laughing-stock of the world. But an assault is distasteful to the Boer. Nothing goes so much against his grain, unless perhaps it is a British bayonet. But he will try it, and when he does we shall have our work cut out. There, now you know all about it, and if you hurry up and get strong, Jack, you’ll be able to take a hand in the affair.”

“Well, I feel almost fit for a tussle now,” Jack laughed, “and if the camp is assaulted you may be sure I shall get hold of a rifle somehow and join in the fun.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rawlings answered heartily. “Such a fire-eater as you are would be certain to be somewhere in it. But come along to our mess and lunch. They can spare you from the hospital for once, and I don’t suppose it matters much what you eat, now that you are up and about.”

Jack accepted the invitation, and much enjoyed it, for it was the first time he had had a repast out of hospital since he came to Ladysmith. After lunch he was given a big chair and a large cigar, and ordered to tell the story of the defence of the farmhouse near Kimberley.

He obeyed the order, and had to put up with a good deal of good-natured chaff. Then he drove off with Guy and Rawlings to the football ground.

It was an exciting and fast game, and was closely contested, there being little to choose between the smart riflemen and the brawny Highlanders. The whole camp was there to look on, and evidently the Boers were also watching through their field-glasses, for in the midst of a severe tussle, and when the two sides were grouped close together, there was a screaming noise overhead, and a huge Creuzot shell plunged into the middle of them, narrowly missing one man’s head, and buried itself deep in the ground.

Instantly the umpire’s whistle sounded, and he shouted: “Half-time, boys!”

A roar of laughter followed, and all the players decamped hastily and threw themselves on the ground. A second later there was a muffled roar, sand and earth were driven in all directions, and a large fragment of shell whizzed across the ground, passed close to Jack’s head, and tore a huge rent in a galvanised-iron shed behind him.

Then the umpire’s whistle sounded again, and the game was proceeded with, one and all treating the matter as a joke.

That evening when Jack got back to his tent he was tired out, but by the dim light from a lantern he perused, with many a chuckle, the pages of one of the two papers published in the camp. It wasThe Lyre, and purported to contain nothing but untruths.

On the evening of January 5th, as Jack was reclining on his chair looking round the camp with his field-glasses, he noticed that amongst the men passing to Ladysmith from Intombi Spruit, or “Funkemburg”, were three whose movements were suspicious. They were dressed like colonial volunteers, and carried rifles. Passing separately across the open ground, they pushed forward without hesitation, and, once inside the camp of Ladysmith, walked in the direction of Wagon Hill, where each in turn disappeared into a hut which had been almost smashed to pieces by one of the enemy’s shells.

Jack watched them, curiously at first, wondering why they did not come across from the neutral ground together, and what business they had to be out of the camp; and then suspiciously, for their movements were peculiar. They looked about them cautiously, and one by one dived into the hut. Here they remained, and though he fixed his glasses in that direction for half an hour there was no sign of them, and they did not even appear when the bugle sounded the “Fall in!” all over the camp, and the garrison turned out of their tents and formed up for the evening inspection.

“That is queer!” he muttered suspiciously. “Who can they be? Not civilians, I am sure, for they have no business over in this direction. I don’t like the look of things, and I’ll keep my eyes upon those beggars.”

A few minutes later, as Sir George White and his staff rode on to the nearest parade-ground and the guard there presented arms to their commanding-officer, a man slipped out from the back of the hut, and, having peered in all directions, struck the wall with his rifle. Jack fixed his glasses upon him and waited. Almost immediately two men emerged, and having looked about them suspiciously, fell in, and, shouldering their weapons, marched off towards the heights of Caesar’s Camp, with the one who had first left the hut walking by their side.

“Well, that’s rummy!” exclaimed Jack aloud. “What can they be doing? I suppose they are going to relieve the pickets, or the guards over the guns. But it is an unusual time. Of course I know that the colonials take their turn, but they are generally marched up to change guard just before the evening parade. I’ll just watch, and at the same time keep out of sight, for they will pass close by me.”

He promptly entered his tent, and, lying full-length on the ground, lifted the flap, and again watched the volunteers through his field-glasses. Soon they were close at hand, and though it was already getting dusk, something about the figure of the officer caught his notice, and that, combined with the peculiar manner in which he threw out his feet, set Jack wondering who he was.

“I’m sure I’ve had something to do with that fellow before,” he muttered. “Who can he be?”

Jack puzzled his brains, but could not solve the problem, and was on the point of giving it up in disgust when the merest chance disclosed it to him. There was a sentry standing in front of an iron hut used as the paymaster’s office, and as the volunteers got opposite him, and just in front of Jack, the watchful man hailed them and shouted: “Halt! who goes there?” saluting the party at the same moment by shouldering his rifle.

He was evidently a young soldier, and eager to be considered wide-awake, or else he would have remembered that it was already dusk and no salute was required. Still it served Jack’s purpose, for a second later “Eyes right!” and “Gun picket!” was shouted out in a voice which made him tingle from head to foot and tremble with excitement, for the voice and the figure together told him that it was none other than Piet Maartens, his old enemy, who had so nearly proved the death of him in the Transvaal magazine.

“Good heavens!” Jack exclaimed in astonishment. “What does it mean? Can he have come over to our side to fight against the Boers? No, that’s impossible. He must be a spy, and, by George! those other men with him must belong to the enemy too.”

Jack sprang to his feet and gazed after the squad of volunteers. Then he thought for a few moments, and, having determined what to do, he dived into the tent again, and, snatching up his rifle, ran across to call Guy Richardson.

“Quick, Guy!” he said, pushing his head into the hut in which Guy and Mr Hunter lived. “Come out here! I want you both! Bring your rifles!”

An instant later all were walking rapidly towards the heights of Caesar’s Camp, the southern boundary of the defences of Ladysmith, and a position of the most vital importance to the garrison, for with the Boers in possession of it their guns would have forced our troops to surrender.

“There’s some treachery going on!” Jack whispered as they walked along side by side. Then he explained what he had seen, and told them how Piet Maartens, and two men dressed presumably as colonial volunteers, were marching towards Caesar’s Camp.

“There is certainly something wrong,” Mr Hunter replied hurriedly. “Now what had we better do! Ah, I know! You two follow them, and I will go to the quarters of the officer in command of the pickets to-night and warn him. What can those spies want! Keep your eyes open, lads. It looks as though our friends were about to make an attempt to take Ladysmith.”

A moment later Mr Hunter was gone, and Jack and Guy hurried on till they were within sight of the men they were following. It was now almost dark, and having ascertained the direction in which they were marching, the two took to their heels, and, making a wide détour, ran up to the trenches at the top of the hill.

“Wait here, Guy, while I go over and speak to the officer on duty,” said Jack. “I’ll be back directly.”

Slipping across the turf, he was soon challenged by a sentry and brought to a sudden stop with the man’s bayonet at his chest. Then he was taken to the officer.

“I’ve some important news to give you,” he said. “Can I see you alone!”

“Certainly! Come in here,” was the answer; and Jack was led into a trench.

“There’s something going on to-night,” Jack whispered. “A Boer I knew in Johannesburg is marching up here with two men, all dressed as volunteers. They are all spies, I believe, and I have come to warn you!”

“Spies! By Jove, we’ll get hold of them immediately they appear!” exclaimed the officer.

“Don’t you think it would be well to let them do whatever they are coming for,” said Jack thoughtfully. “You might set a watch on them, and as soon as you have found out their game arrest them. I should warn your sergeants and a few of the older men, so as to be ready. Mr Hunter thinks it looks as though the Boers were about to make a rush.”

“By George, they’d better not!” the officer exclaimed. “But I’ll do as you suggest, and what is more, I’ll send a man over to warn the fellows on Wagon Hill.”

“Very well! I’ll slip back, and follow Piet Maartens and his friends up,” said Jack; and, stepping from the trench, he nodded to the young officer and ran across to Guy.

A few minutes later the Boer spies appeared marching stealthily up the hill, and as soon as they had passed by, Jack and Guy fell in behind them. They kept steadily on, halting for a few seconds now and again to listen and glance cautiously round them. Soon they were at the top of the heights, when they turned to the left, and after proceeding some two hundred yards came to a stop directly behind a battery of field-guns placed in a most commanding position to rake the flats below. They stood unguarded and unattended, save that below them, on the farther side of the hill and some distance away on either hand, pickets were posted.

“Looks as though they were going to play some game with the guns,” whispered Guy. “What do you think, Jack? It would suit their purpose well to destroy our cannon and then assault us.”

“I think you are right, Guy. Let us hide up here and watch. At present I do not think they will do much, for it is too light, but in another hour perhaps they will make a move. By that time they will be surrounded.”

At this moment Piet Maartens rose to his knees from the hollow in which he and his two companions had thrown themselves, and, not seeing anyone, all three stole forward about fifty paces, and again lay prone upon the ground, where they remained without a move, save that now and again one of them raised his head and attempted to pierce the gloom. But the night had already fallen, and it would have required more than the unaided eye to distinguish any but a very close object.

Meanwhile Jack and Guy had crept into a good position near at hand, and feeling sure that the officer in charge of the trenches had taken due precautions to surround the Boer spies, they sat down in silence and waited to see what would happen.

“Stay here a moment,” said Jack, seeing that at present nothing was likely to happen, “I’ll go and get that officer, and then there will be official evidence against those fellows. It looks as though we should have them beautifully.”

Leaving Guy crouching behind a mound of earth, Jack slipped back, and, having reached the trenches, was soon in conversation with the officer.

“I wonder what their game is,” said the latter. “At any rate we shall nab them all, for I have put a circle of men all round the guns.”

“I believe they are going to damage the weapons in some way or other,” Jack answered, “and in that case they will certainly use explosives. I came over to ask you to join us at a spot where we can see everything. The sentries on the guns show well up against the sky-line, so that when these fellows get on their feet we can see at once when they move. By the way, it would be wise to warn the gunners to be careful when the time comes for using their weapons.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” exclaimed the officer. “Who knows! these spies may fix a charge of dynamite. Wait here a moment while I give the order.”

A few minutes later he joined Jack once more, and both crept to Guy’s side and then moved forward, for Piet Maartens and his companions had crawled closer to the guns. Raising their heads cautiously, they peeped over a bank and saw the guns, only a few yards in front of them, standing dimly defined against the star-lit sky, while close beside them crouched the Boer spies.

Piet Maartens lay a few yards in front upon the edge of the hill, and as Jack and his friends watched him they saw him lift his head and look steadily in either direction, and then turn round as if to make sure that he was unobserved.

Instantly all three sank flat on the ground, but a minute later, when they peered over the bank again, he was facing down the hill, and as they looked, he stood up and produced what was evidently a pair of field-glasses and applied them to his eyes.

“He’s trying to make out where the pickets are,” whispered Jack. “Keep down, you fellows, he’s turning this way now.”

“He can look as long as he likes,” chuckled the young officer, “but he won’t see a single man beyond the regular outposts. I ordered all my fellows to lie flat and remain without a move till they hear me shout.”

“That’s good,” muttered Jack. “Halloa! what’s that?”

As Jack spoke, one of the Boer spies gave a low warning hiss between his teeth, and a second later a corporal and two men swung by in the darkness on their way to relieve an outlying picket. They had approached so silently that Piet Maartens was taken by surprise, and was instantly perceived. But his coolness did not desert him. He instantly replaced his glasses and challenged.

“Relieving picket,” shouted the corporal, and passed on without a halt.

“Pass, relieving picket. All’s well,” Piet Maartens answered, and, having waited a minute, again produced his glasses.

Five minutes later the corporal and the men he had relieved returned, and silence settled down upon the hilltop.

It was a trying time for Jack and his friends. Crouching behind the mound of earth, with their eyes glued upon the Boer spies in front, they expected them to make some attempt upon the guns at any moment. But an hour dragged slowly past, and then another, and the officer was on the point of shouting to his men to close in, when Piet Maartens was again seen to make use of his glasses.

“Wait a moment,” Jack whispered, placing his hand upon the young officer’s arm to restrain him. “They are moving now, and the fun will begin.”

An instant later, having satisfied himself that there was no one about, Piet Maartens slipped stealthily to the side of one of his fellow-spies, and, extracting something from his haversack, approached one of the guns. There was a faint click, then a few seconds of silence, which was followed by a metallic “clang”. Once more he returned to his comrade, and approached another gun. And all the while Jack and his friends looked on in breathless silence. In all, there were twelve weapons belonging to the Field-Artillery, and each in turn Piet Maartens visited. Then he returned to his former position, and, having looked round in all directions, gave a soft whistle. At the signal the other spies joined him, and immediately disappeared over the brow of the hill and climbed down the opposite side. Instantly the young officer rushed up to the guns, accompanied by Jack and Guy, and, drawing his revolver, shouted “Look out, men!”

The next moment a ring of soldiers leapt to their feet, and with fixed bayonets faced the party of Boer spies.

“Lay down your arms, Piet Maartens. It’s all up, and if you lift a hand you will all be shot like dogs!” Jack shouted, rushing forward at the same time and presenting his rifle at his old enemy’s head.

A snarl of rage escaped from the Boer’s lips, and he made a frantic effort to unsling his rifle; but long before he could get it free the circle of soldiers rushed in and knocked all three to the ground. A minute later they were being marched towards the town, surrounded by a strong party in charge of a subaltern.

“Now we’ll have a look at the guns,” exclaimed the officer. “Sergeant, bring along a lantern and a couple of men, and don’t attempt to touch the guns till I have inspected them. Come and help me, Somerton. I expect that beggar has placed a charge of dynamite in the breech.”

A few moments later a lantern was produced, and, followed by Jack and Guy, the officer looked closely at the breeches of the guns. At first there was nothing to be seen. But a close inspection revealed a thin piece of wire attached to the handle of the breech, passing from there into the inside of the weapon.

“Don’t open it, whatever you do,” cried Jack in a warning voice. “It is a regular trap for the gunners, and the opening of the breech would fire the charge inside. Snip the wires, and then you will be able to learn all about it.”

A wire nipper was now produced, and the piece attached to the handle having been cautiously snipped, the breech was opened and disclosed a charge of gun-cotton inside arranged so that the mere opening of the handle would pull the wire and explode the charge, and so destroy the gun immediately.

“Ah, I told you there was a plot on hand!” exclaimed Jack with satisfaction. “They know that we have guns here, and they sent those spies in to arrange matters, so that when the rush comes and they attack the hill, we should be left without a single weapon to fire at them as they cross the ground below. Well, I fancy we shall be able to open their eyes. It’s getting on for midnight now, and we can expect them very soon.”

“Right you are, Somerton,” the officer replied. “There’s no mistake about it. They are going to have a real good try to take us, and, thanks to you, we shall be ready for them. I’ll go off and report the matter, and meanwhile I’ll have all the guns loaded with shrapnel. By the way, what are you going to do?”

“Oh, Guy and I will give a hand, if we may!” answered Jack.

“My dear chap, every man of us will be wanted, and the more we can get the better. Come into my trench, if you like. It’s certain to be a hot corner, being so close to the guns.”

Jack and his friend eagerly accepted the invitation, and accompanied the officer back to the trench. Here they were joined by Mr Hunter, and a few minutes after his arrival some Highlanders and Riflemen put in an appearance. Then all lay down, while the gunners trained their weapons upon the flats below, and loaded them with shrapnel. Outposts were doubled, and every man waited in dead silence for the assault, prepared to hurl back the attacking Boers at the point of the bayonet.

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