Chapter 31 | Bad For One: Good For Two | A Dash From Diamond City

“It’s a bad job—a very bad job,” said West, with a sigh, as he mounted one of the pair of very excellent ponies that had been provided for the despatch-riders by the gallant chief in command at Mafeking, with the laughing comment that the two brave little animals ought to consider themselves very lucky in being provided with two such masters, who would take them right away from the beleaguered town, where, if they stayed, their fate was bound to be that they would be minced into sausages or boiled down into soup.

They were two beautiful little beasts; but West always sighed and said it was a bad job whenever he mounted, for his heart was sore about the pony he had lost before they entered Mafeking.

“I say, young fellow,” said Ingleborough, with one of his grim smiles: “how much longer are you going to stay in mourning?”

“Stay in mourning?” said West, staring, as he bent forward to pat his mount’s back.

“Yes: for those two ponies we lost; because it seems to me very absurd! To begin with, it’s downright folly to bemoan the loss of one pony when you have been provided with another equally good; secondly, it is more absurd to bemoan a pony at all; and thirdly, it is the most absurd thing of all to be mourning for one that in all probability is not dead.”

“Oh, they’re both dead enough by this time!” said West bitterly.

“Mine may be, for it was hit; but from the way it reared up and kicked out it had no bones broken, and these Basuto ponies are such hardy little beasts that I daresay it got better; while yours was so good that you may depend upon it some Boer has it nipped tightly between his legs, and is making the most of it.”

“I hope you are right!” said West. “And there, I will not mourn for them, as you call it, any more, but make the best of things. Let’s see; this is the sixth day out from Mafeking.”

“Seventh,” said Ingleborough correctively.

“Of course; so it is, but I lose count through being so intent upon the one idea of getting back to Kimberley. Do you think we shall manage to get through the Boer lines?”

“Think? Why, we’ve got to get through them. We shouldn’t be long if we could only ride straight away, and not be always running right on to some fresh party who begin to make game of us directly.”

“That’s rather an ambiguous way of speaking, Ingle,” said West, laughing, as he caressed his pony. “If anybody else heard you he would think you meant that the Boers bantered and chaffed us.”

“But nobody else does hear us, and you think that I mean that they begin to pump out bullets at us just as if we were a pair of springboks. I say, I’m beginning to think that we are leading a charmed life, for it is wonderful what escapes we have had from their long-carrying rifles.”

“I’m beginning to think in a much more matter-of-fact way,” replied West; “and I think this, that five hundred yards’ range is quite long enough for any rifle used on active service. I know that when one takes aim beyond that distance one is very doubtful of hitting.”

“I feel so after half that distance,” replied Ingleborough, and then: “Hullo! See something?”

“Yes; I thought we were going to have a good long ride in peace this morning, but look yonder!”

The two young men drew rein and leaped to the ground, each hurriedly getting out his glass, for the commandant at Mafeking had supplied them with fresh ones, to steady it by resting it upon the saddle he had just quitted, their well-trained ponies standing perfectly motionless.

“What do you make of it?” said Ingleborough, scanning a mistily-seen dark line right away beneath the sun.

“Wagons trekking,” replied West quietly.

“Friends?”

“Who can say? I think not. Reinforcements and stores on the way to the besiegers, I should think.”

“I’m afraid you are right! Well, we had better let the nags feed while we lie down and watch, for I don’t think they have seen us yet.”

“Very well,” said West. “I’m tired of so much running away!”

The next minute they were lying amongst some stones and their ponies grazing, Ingleborough coolly filling his pipe and lighting it with a burning-glass, but keeping a watchful eye upon the long train of wagons and horsemen plodding along at the customary rate of about two miles an hour, and ready at any moment to spring upon his pony in case a party of the enemy should make up their minds to try and drive in the two ponies when they caught their eye.

This he knew was doubtful, for it was beginning to be a common sight upon the veldt—that of a wounded or worn-out horse or two picking up a scanty living from the grass and green points of the shrubs, while an investigation generally proved that the poor brutes were not worth the trouble of the ride.

Still, on the other hand, the suspicious nature of the Boers might prompt them to see whether riders were near the grazing animals, and an opportunity for capturing a prisoner or two be theirs.

The pair kept a keen look-out; but it seemed for a long time that they were to be left in peace, the long line of wagons and horsemen plodding steadily onward, completely blocking the way the bearers of the Kimberley despatch had to take.

At last, though, just after West had expressed his opinion that the Boers were too intent upon getting their heavy guns on towards Mafeking, Ingleborough, unnoticed by his companion, made a sudden movement, dropping his pipe and altering the small lenses of his field-glass, through which he lay gazing, supporting himself upon his elbows.

“Hah!” said West, who was similarly occupied; “they’ve got four heavy guns and a tremendous lot of stores. Wouldn’t one of our generals give something to have his men so arranged that he could cut them off in all directions! The country is so open, and not a kopje in sight. What a prize those guns would be!”

“Yes,” said Ingleborough sharply; “but there is no British force at hand, so they are going to surround us instead.”

“What!” cried West excitedly.

“That they are, and no mistake!” continued Ingleborough, slewing himself round so as to look in a different direction.

“You don’t mean—oh, Ingle! Three strong bodies coming from behind, north and south. Why, we’re trapped!”

“We are, my lad; for here they come from the front.”

West turned his glass again in the direction of the long line of wagons after his look round, to see that a party of the Boers were riding out straight for them.

“Trapped; but we must dodge between the wires, eh?” cried West, who, like his companion, had made at once for where his pony was grazing. “Hah! Look out, Ingle!”

Ingleborough was looking out, but left helpless. West had caught his pony, but his companion had startled the other by the suddenness of his approach, and, throwing up its head, the little animal cantered off with his rider after him.

“Stop, stop!” shouted West. “You only scare the brute more.”

“Right!” said Ingleborough sadly, and he stopped short and began to return. “There!” he cried, as West sprang into his saddle; “you have the despatch. Off with you through that opening! I won’t hinder you! I’ll turn prisoner again for a change.”

“Lay hold of my pony’s tail and run! I’ll keep him to a canter, and change with you as soon as you’re tired!” said West, scanning the opening between the end of the Boer line and the party of horsemen away to his left who were making straight for them, lying towards the middle of the line, where the big guns were being dragged along.

“No good!” said Ingleborough. “Off with you, and save your despatch!”

“Can’t leave you, old fellow! Do as I tell you!” cried West. “Hook on!”

“I will not! They won’t kill me if I throw up my hands! Save your despatch if you can!”

“Obey orders, sir!” roared West fiercely, “and don’t waste time! I’m going to trot after your mount, and he’ll join us.”

“Hah! Bravo, sharp brains!” cried Ingleborough excitedly, and twisting the long thick hair of the pony’s tail about his left hand he ran lightly after his companion, the pony West rode uttering a shrill neigh as they went off, which made the other stop, cock up its ears, answer, and come galloping after them, so eager to join its fellow that it brushed close past Ingleborough, who caught the rein without trouble.

“Right!” he shouted, and the next minute he was in the saddle, with the ponies cantering along side by side.

“More to the left!” cried West. “The Boers are bearing away to cut us off!”

This was plain enough, and the fugitives saw that if a fresh party started from the end of the long line they were bound to be cut off.

“Never mind,” cried Ingleborough; “we may get away! Those fellows are quite a mile from us, and their mounts will be pumped out if they push forward like that. Easy, easy! Let the ponies go their own pace!”

Settling down into a canter, the fugitives now began to look away to their left, where they had seen the other parties closing them in from their flank and rear.

“Hallo! Where’s the rest of the enemy?” cried West.

“Yonder, out of sight! The ground lies lower there; but I say, these fellows are coming on at a tremendous rate! Gallop or they’ll cut you off.”

“Then we’ll gallop!” cried West. “We, old fellow! Just as if I were going to leave you behind!”

“Very nice of you,” said Ingleborough merrily; “but you’re not fit for a despatch-rider. You’re about the worst I ever knew of!”

“Because I won’t forsake a friend?”

“Friend be hanged! There’s no friendship in wartime. Ah, here come some of the flankers.”

“Yes, I see them,” said West; “but what does this mean?”

For all at once the galloping party on their right—that which had come straight from the centre of the Boer line—began to pull up until all were halted in the middle of the plain.

“They see their companions coming,” said Ingleborough, “and that we are safely cut off. Well, it is giving us a better chance!”

“But they’re turning and folding back,” cried West excitedly. “Here come the others, full gallop! Look, look, how they’re opening out! Gallop full speed now! No, no. Look, look! Why, Ingle, those are not rifles they’re carrying—they’re lances.”

“You’re dreaming!” growled Ingleborough. “Never mind what they’re carrying; they’re going to cut us off, and we’ve got to save that despatch!”

“And we shall save it too!” cried West, his voice sounding full of exultation. “Those are our Lancers—a regiment of them!”

“You’re right!” cried Ingleborough excitedly now, and he began to draw rein. “Look at the Boer line. There’s proof! They’re turning back from the front and hurrying up their rear so as to form laager round their big guns. Hurrah!” he yelled, rising in his stirrups to wave his hat.

“And hurrah a hundred times more!” yelled West, following his companion’s example, as he saw now in no less than four directions little clouds of horsemen moving over the widely-spreading plain.

The next minute they had their glasses out and were watching the Boers—a line no longer, but broken up into what at first seemed to be wild confusion, out of which order began to form, for whoever was in command of the reinforcements on their way to Mafeking possessed enough soldierly knowledge of what was the best thing to be done under the circumstances. As the wagons in front were wheeled round to retire upon the centre formed by the four heavy guns, and those from the rear were hurried up to join in making a great square, cloud after cloud of mounted men galloped forward to seize upon any patch of shelter to hold against the advancing British force.

“It’s well meant,” said Ingleborough, without taking his eyes from his glass; “but they will not have time to form a strong laager. Why, our men will be among them before a quarter of an hour is past.”

“Before ten minutes!” cried West, in wild excitement. “Hurrah! Trapped this time! Look right across the laager; there are men coming on there!”

It was so, and Ingleborough cheered wildly again. For the British general must have had abundant information of the coming convoy, and had taken his precautions and made his plans so accurately as to timing the advance that he had completely surrounded the long line with cavalry and mounted infantry, who now raced for the laager, heedless of the fire opened upon them by the Boers. The enemy only fired a few shots, and then, finding themselves taken in front, flank, and rear, made for their horses and took flight in every direction, but not before the Lancers got among them and dotted the veldt with horse and man.

The Boer commander and those with gun and wagon worked well, bringing their heavy guns to bear on the main advance; but they were not directed at masses of men in column or line, but at a cloud of cavalry covering the plain and mingled with the enemy’s own flying horse, so that before a second discharge could be belched forth from the two large guns which were re-loaded, the Lancers, Hussars, and Volunteer Light Horse were among the gunners, and it was every man for himself, sauve qui peut.

West and Ingleborough were so intent with their glasses, watching the utter rout of the Boers, that they did not see a body of Lancers bearing down upon them at a gallop, and the noise of the scattered firing kept up by the Boers drowned the trampling of hoofs, till there was a shout which made the two despatch-bearers start round in their saddles, to see a dozen sun-browned, dust-covered Lancers galloping at them with weapons levelled, headed by a young officer waving them on with his flashing sword.

“Up hands!” yelled Ingleborough, and glass and hat were thrust on high.

It was only just in time, the officer raising his sword as he reined up by West and caught his arm.

“Hallo!” he roared, as his men surrounded the pair with lances at their breasts; “who are you?”

“Despatch-riders—Mafeking to Kimberley,” cried West.

“Where are your despatches then?” cried the officer sharply.

“Here!” cried West.

“Yah!” cried the young officer. “I thought I’d caught two Boer generals directing the fight. What a jolly sell!”

“You’ve got something better among you!” said Ingleborough, joining in the laugh which rose among the men.

“Have we? What?”

“There are four heavy guns yonder, and a tremendous wagon train.”

At that moment trumpet after trumpet rang out, and the men burst into a wild cheer, for the mounted Boers were scattering in all directions, flying for their lives, and it was plain enough that a tremendous blow had been inflicted upon a very strong force, the capture of the convoy being complete, and those in charge who had not succeeded in reaching their horses readily throwing down their arms.

“We’ll, we’ve whipped!” said the young officer of Lancers, taking off his helmet to wipe his streaming face. “They can’t find fault with us at home for this, my lads! Here, open out; we must join in driving these ragged rascals back on the centre. Here, you two,” he cried, turning to West and his companion, “I must take you both in to my chief, for I don’t know that I ought to take your bare word.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s much of the Dopper about either of us.”

“No,” said the officer, “but the Boers have got the scum of Europe and America with them, and you may be two little bits.”

“Want our rifles?” said West coolly.

“No; but don’t try to bolt, either of you: it would be dangerous. My boys are rather handy with the lance!”

“So I see!” said West, glancing at the points glistening at the tops of the bamboo shafts, several of which looked unpleasantly red.

“And so I felt,” said Ingleborough grimly, “for one of them pressed my ribs.”