Part 53 (1/2)

But when morning came the General demurred to letting them go.

”You must wait a day longer,” he said, ”until my boys have done more, to clear the way, for your road must be full of revengeful Boers, the remains of the force we defeated yesterday, and I am certain that neither you nor your despatch would reach Kimberley if I let you go!”

”We are very anxious to be off, sir,” said West, in a disappointed tone.

”And I am very anxious that the Kimberley people should have your good news, my lad,” said the general, smiling, ”and the news too of how we have taken the guns and stores meant to be used against Mafeking; but, as I have told you before, I don't want the news you are to carry to be found somewhere on the veldt, perhaps a year hence, along with some rags and two brave young fellows' bones.”

”Thank you, sir,” said West quietly; ”but when do you think we might continue our journey?”

”That depends on the reports I get in from the men still away in pursuit.”

The men in camp were in high glee, for they had been struggling hard for weeks to get to conclusions with the enemy, but without success, while now their highest expectations had been more than fulfilled; but there was plenty of sorrow to balance the joy, many poor fellows having met their end, while the number of injured in the hospital ambulances and tents made up a heavy list.

West and Ingleborough saw much of this, and spent no little time in trying to soften the pangs endured by the brave lads who lay patiently bearing their unhappy lot, suffering the agony of wounds, and many more the miseries of disease.

There was trouble too with the prisoners, and West and his companion were present when a desperate attempt to escape was made by a party worked upon by one of their leaders--a half-mad fanatical being whose preachings had led many to believe that the English conquerors were about to reduce the Boers to a complete state of slavery.

The attempt failed, and the leader was one of those who fell in the terrible encounter which ensued.

Both West and Ingleborough were witnesses of the resulting fight, for the attempt was made in broad daylight, just when such a venture was least expected, and, after those who seized upon a couple of score of the captured horses and tried to gallop off had been recaptured, the young men worked hard in helping to carry the wounded to the patch of wagons that formed the field hospital.

”Ugh!” said West, with a shudder, after he and Ingleborough had deposited a terribly-injured Boer before one of the regimental surgeons; ”let's get down to the spruit and wash some of this horror away.”

”Yes,” said Ingleborough, after a glance at his own hands; ”we couldn't look worse if we had been in the fight! Horrible!”

”It's one thing to be in the wild excitement of a battle, I suppose,”

said West; ”but this business after seems to turn my blood cold.”

Ingleborough made no reply, and the pair had enough to do afterwards in descending the well-wooded, almost perpendicular bank to where the little river ran bubbling and foaming along, clear and bright.

”Ha!” sighed West; ”that's better! It was horrible, though, to see those poor wretches shot down.”

”Um!” murmured Ingleborough dubiously. ”Not very! They killed the sentries first with their own bayonets!”

”In a desperate struggle for freedom, though! But there, I'm not going to try and defend them!”

”No, don't, please!” said Ingleborough. ”I can't get away from the fact that they began the war, that the Free State had no excuse whatever, and that the enemy have behaved in the most cruel and merciless way to the people of the towns they have besieged.”

”All right! I suppose you are right; but I can't help feeling sorry for the beaten.”

”Feel sorry for our own party then!” said Ingleborough, laughing. ”Why, Noll, lad, we must not holloa till we are out of the wood. This last is a pretty bit of success; but so far we have been horribly beaten all round.”

”Yes, yes; don't talk about it,” said West sharply; ”but look over there. We needn't have been at the trouble of scrambling down this almost perpendicular place, for there must be a much easier spot where that fellow is walking up.”

”Never mind; we'll find that slope next time, for we shall have to come down again if we want a wash.”

They sat down chatting together about the beautifully peaceful look of the stream, while Ingleborough lit his pipe and began to smoke.

”It does seem a pity,” said Ingleborough thoughtfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke: ”this gully looks as calm and peaceful as a stream on old Dartmoor at home. My word! I wish I had a rod, a line, and some flies!