Chapter III: Fringed with Fire

Kopje was singularly well situated for defence. From the rising ground behind the house, no attack could be made by mounted men, as it was strewn with big boulders of rock, and interlaced with dongas, which though not deep, presented insuperable difficulties to an enemy manoeuvring on horseback.

The ostrich kraals--which were in reality one long rambling building--commanded the country from which the only attack by mounted men could be made, and the ground in front was open.

On receipt of Pat's intelligence, Jack went to his mother and told her the news brought by the Irishman. He insisted upon her as well as Mary remaining inside the house, and would not listen to her suggestion that if the Boers were really advancing upon the farmstead, they should be allowed to take whatever they pleased, on condition they harmed none of its inmates.

"No, mother," said Jack firmly; "I have always been obedient, but any Boer who dares to enter Kopje Farm without an invitation from me will have a bullet from my rifle through him before he can say 'Jack Robinson'! Please say no more, mother. Father is not here, and may be dead, but if he is all right I could never look him in the face again if I did not show fight. Stay inside with Mary, and do not venture out until I come for you. I must go to the 'boys' now, as time is precious;" and saying this, Jack went across to the ostrich kraal, where the Kaffir servants were assembled.

The sun was within half an hour of setting, and the light was good enough to enable our hero--for such Jack Lovat will prove to be before we bid him adieu--to distinguish a body of horsemen moving in an oblique direction across the veldt. Pat had stabled Cawdor, and stood awaiting orders from Jack.

"We must have the rifles and ammunition from the storeroom, Pat," said Jack, "and quick must be the word. Kindly look after the boys, Pat. Zacchary, Pete, and the lot of you, go and bring the rifles; and don't forget, Pete, to bring a hammer. One moment, Pat; a couple of lanterns will be needed, as well as some matches."

Strange it is that fighting blood is transmitted from generation to generation, but so it proved in Jack Lovat's case. An ancestor of his had suffered death on Culloden field for what he considered his duty towards the unfortunate race of Stuarts, and Jack was prepared to lay down his life in the defence of the Kopje Farm.

In the excitement of the moment he forgot about his father's possible peril. His thoughts were concentrated on the question, "Can I strike a blow for the honour of the old country?" Jack had not gone through a course of metaphysics or logic. He was simply a lad, made a man before his time perhaps, and yearning for an outlet through which a vast flood of pent-up patriotism could be poured.

Pat and the "boys," in almost less time than it takes to relate, transferred the arms to the ostrich kraal. The weapons were in splendid order. Jack Lovat had seen to that. Many hours he had spent in cleaning the rifles, always hoping, boylike, that some day they would come in handy, when the Boers put in an appearance.

The ungainly-looking ostriches, penned in spaces of rectangular form, craned their far-stretching necks, all the while uttering the grunt peculiar to the birds, dubbed by naturalists _Struthio Camelus_.

A passage, four feet in width, ran between the inner walls of the kraal and the high hurdles forming the temporary home of the ostriches. Four feet above the flagged floor of the kraal were loopholes, and these presently had the barrels of rifles protruding from them.

A couple of thousand rounds of ammunition, in boxes holding one hundred each, were placed in handy positions, and Pete with much dexterity knocked off the lids of the boxes, thus exposing the little nickel-plated messengers of death.

Each "boy" was given a rifle, and by the way the magazines were charged it was evident that the weapons had been handled before.

Pat, who was peering through a loophole, cried out, "The beggars are coming, sorr, an' they're more than fifty strong."

Jack, who was engaged in inspecting the "boys'" rifles, at once went up to Pat.

"How far off do you make them now, Pat?" he asked.

"Bedad! they seem to be only five hundred yards away," answered the Irishman. But Pat was wrong in his conjecture, and Pete at once corrected him.

"Dey be quite a mile from de farm, Baas Jack," said the Kaffir. "De eyes ob white men do not see right--at least not in dis country."

A peep through a loophole told Jack that Pete's estimate was a correct one. The South African atmosphere is so clear that distance seems annihilated on the veldt.

Jack addressed a few words to the defenders of the farm. "Boys," he began, "before long we may be in a tight hole. I am going to run the show for what it is worth. It shall never be said that Christian Uys and his men took Kopje Farm without a shot being fired. You boys, of course, know what it will mean if any of you are captured with arms in your hands. A sjambokking first, and possibly after that a Mauser bullet through the head. We must have no white-flag business here. If any of you boys don't care to fight, there is time for you to get away over the kopje. Pat and I mean to stay here till the last."

"We stay with the baas as well," said Pete emphatically; and in Kaffir fashion the whole of the "boys" held up their right hands, extending the index finger in a significant manner.

"Thanks," returned Jack. "And now to business!"

The eyes of the Kaffirs were fixed on something behind Jack, and the latter noting this, turned quickly round. To his great surprise, his eyes fell upon the figures of his mother and Mary.

"This is no place for you, mother," said Jack. "You must return to the house. It is quite safe there."

"But what does this mean, Jack?" asked Mrs. Lovat, pointing to the ammunition boxes and rifles. "This will be death to someone. My dear boy, pray do be careful."

"All right, mother," said Jack, with a laugh. "I'll be more than careful. But you must go back to the house. You will only be in the way here."

"I am almost distracted, Jack. Your father may be dead;" and Mrs. Lovat broke into a paroxysm of tears. "This cruel war is killing me. Why cannot things be settled without recourse to bloodshed?"

Had Mrs. Lovat passed through the same experiences as many settlers' wives in Natal and the northern parts of Cape Colony, the exclamation might have been a justifiable one. As it was, the black wings of Azrael, the Angel of Death, were beginning to flap over the Kopje Farm, and the ostrich farmer's wife, whose nature was a curious compound of kindness, fear, credulity, and misgiving, began to show signs of fainting.

Not so Mary Lovat. Although only a girl in her early teens, she possessed a large share of her brother Jack's mental and moral courage, and she came up and whispered in Jack's ear, "Mother will go back to the house with me, but I should so much like to stay here."

Pat O'Neill ended Mary's whispering somewhat abruptly, but quietly. He had been patrolling the rough ground outside the Kopje Farm, and coming inside the walled enclosure, walked swiftly up to Jack.

"The Boers are near at hand, sorr," he whispered. "What is the missis doing here? This is no place for ladies. Shall I take them across to the house?"

The next moment, Mrs. Lovat and Mary, escorted by Pat and Moses, were passing under the shelter of the dry stone wall to the farmhouse, and Moses, who had his rifle and a supply of ammunition with him, was told to stay with the "missis" until he was sent for.

Having seen the two ladies seated in the dining-room, with Moses acting as their guard, Pat returned at breakneck speed to the kraal, where he found Jack examining the approaching horsemen attentively through a pair of field glasses.

The twilight of South Africa is of short duration, but the light was still good.

"They are Boers," said Jack, handing the glasses to his faithful henchman. "Just give a look, Pat, and tell me, if you can, how many there are, and what distance they are now from the farm."

Pat placed the binocular to his optics and gazed for a moment down the valley, after which he spoke.

"Right you are, sorr; they're Boers sure enough, and well within half a mile av us. About fifty or more, I should say, sorr, an' a big fellow in front is houlding a white flag. You saw the chap, sorr, the man on the gray horse. Now they have halted, and, bedad, the man is coming forrard. See for yourself, sorr;" and the worthy Irishman handed back the glasses to his young master.

It took but a moment to convince Jack that Pat was right, and that a Boer was approaching under a flag of truce.

"Inside at once, Pat!" our hero cried; and the pair entered the kraal.

"Man the loopholes, boys!" said Jack; and the Kaffirs, whose rifle magazines were charged, stood to their posts. Nine murderous-looking small-bore rifles were instantly pointed down the valley.

The man on the gray horse had halted a couple of hundred paces in front of the party of horsemen, as though undecided what to do.

"I'll interview him, sorr," said Pat, whose place was next to Jack Lovat. "I'll go and see what the rascal wants."

"I was thinking about the same thing myself," observed Jack. "Maybe it will be the best thing that can be done. No, you must not take your rifle; and put that bandolier off, Pat."

"All right, sorr. I'm anyhow for an aisy life. An' conscience," replied the brave Irishman, "I've got the barker, sorr, if things come to the worst. Then I can go, Master Jack?"

"Certainly, Pat; just slip down and see what the thieving rascals want. But remember, we have no remounts at Kopje Farm for them."

"I understand, sorr," said Pat; and the ex-soldier walked boldly out of the kraal to the spot where the individual on the gray horse had halted.

Pat, whose stride was none of the shortest, made rapid tracks towards the solitary horseman, whose left hand grasped a short stick to the end of which was attached a white handkerchief, while the right supported the barrel of a Mauser rifle, the butt end of which rested on his thigh.

"Halt!" cried the horseman in perfect English, as Pat came up. "Who and what are you?"

"That is my business," answered Pat. "I will put a more pertinent question to you. Long-whiskers! who an' what are you, an' what do you mane by disturbing honest folk in these lonely parts?"

"Have you any horses at the farmstead just ahead?" asked the stranger. "This is a part of Christian Uys's commando, and we want a few Boer ponies badly."

"You said Boer ponies?" said Pat interrogatively.

"I spoke plainly enough, I think," answered the Boer. "We are in need of a few horses, which the British Government will pay for. We will give a receipt for them."

"The master has some grand nags," said Pat, "but av course he will want payment for them. Can you pay on the nail?"

The Boer, who was not by any means a bad-looking man of about fifty, laughed outright at Pat's _insouciance_.

The Irishman went on: "Will the paper hould good if the master lets you have them?"

"When the vierkeleur flies over the whole of South Africa, your master will be paid in good gold, and that will be before many months are over," replied the Boer.

"And if the master does not care to part with the animals?" inquired Pat.

"We'll take them, of course," replied the Boer. "We are tired of bloodshed, but we have won the day; the rooineks can't deny that fact. You see the burghers behind me? Well, we are some of the fellows who cut up your crack regiments at Sanna's Post."

"Then I may return an' tell the master that you'll pay for the nags?" asked Pat.

"Certainly, but don't be long about it," replied the Boer; "and tell your employer's son--for the master of the house is not at home, and won't be to-night--that any attempt at double-dealing will be harshly dealt with. Within ten minutes from now we will advance upon the farm, and if necessary, take by force all we require."

Pat needed no further telling, but strolled back to the farmstead, wondering all the time whether a Boer bullet would lay him flat on the veldt or not.

The orange tints glimmering above the mountains were beginning to fade into a light purplish gray as Pat walked into the ostrich kraal.

Jack, naturally enough, was awaiting his return with some anxiety.

"They are Boers, Pat?" queried Jack.

"Boers, sure enough," responded Pat, "an' they've come to commandeer the horses. The chap wid the white flag says they will pay for them when the Boer flag waves over this heathen part av the world."

"That is enough for me," said Jack, after he had listened to Pat's brief narration. "We will wait until we see them on the move towards us. After that, they can look to themselves."

The minutes seemed long, but at last, through the dim twilight, the Boer on the gray horse was seen waving his flag, as though beckoning his fellow-burghers to advance.

On seeing this, Jack Lovat elevated his rifle, pulled the trigger, and the bullet went whistling high over the heads of the Boers.

The commando instantly halted, and the advanced Boer rode quickly back to his comrades.

The burghers opened out in wide formation, and dismounting, poured in a volley. The majority of the bullets splashed against the rough stones forming the wall of the ostrich kraal.

"Now, boys," cried Jack, "that is just what I wanted. Take a careful, steady aim. Don't fire too wildly, and let every one select his man. There is yet enough light to see them by. Take the word from me."

Instantly the muzzles of nine rifles peeped through as many loopholes, and Jack gave the word, "Fire!"

The reports rang out as one, and the defenders of the farm could see that some of their shots had taken effect, for a couple of Boer horses broke loose, and with clattering hoofs came galloping towards the ostrich kraal. A desultory fire came from the Boers, but as yet no bullets had entered the loopholes.

"Empty your magazines," cried Jack, "but wait for my orders. Now, boys, one, two, three," and at each successive number a tiny horizontal sheet of flame shot from the loopholes.

Yells of rage could be heard from the Boers, mingled with groans, after which the sounds of galloping hoofs were borne on the night air, followed by complete silence.

It was now quite dark, and after waiting, it must be said somewhat anxiously for several minutes for a renewal of the attack, Jack ordered Pat to light the lanterns, and the Irishman instantly obeyed, and showed himself an adept at the work.

Carefully shading the lighted match, so that no stray rays of light could creep through the loopholes, Pat lit the lanterns, when the whinnying of horses outside attracted Jack's attention.

"Remain here, Pat," said Jack. "I'm going across to the house, to give a look to my mother and sister. Keep a sharp look-out while I am gone, in case the beggars come back."

Saying this, Jack walked out into the darkness, and the next moment stumbled against a horse. He, however, walked swiftly towards the house, and found Moses, rifle in hand, guarding the hall. Jack had taken the precaution of shouting out as he approached, for he by no means relished the idea of a bullet being planted between his ribs.

Mrs. Lovat and Mary were still in the dining-room, and as Jack entered, the former exclaimed, "What is the meaning of all this firing, Jack?"

"It means, mother, that if there had been no firing, the Boers would before now have emptied our stables. We have beaten them off, I think."

"Has anyone been hurt?" inquired Mrs. Lovat nervously.

"Not on our side, mother," replied Jack, with a laugh; "as far as the Boers are concerned, I do not know. If any harm has happened to father, then I hope we have killed the lot of them. Moses is still on guard, mother; you need have no fear. I shall be back presently;" and he walked out of the room.

Moses, whose white teeth gleamed as Jack passed him, said, "Dings are all right, Baas Jack. I will see dat no Boers come in here to frighten de missis an' de little missie."

"Quite right, Moses," observed Jack cheerfully. "Give the beggars beans if they come."

"I'll do dat, baas," replied the grinning Kaffir.

An hour later the moon, which was on the wane, would creep over the kopje, and give the defenders of the farm a chance to locate their now unseen assailants.

A deep silence hung over the place, and Jack groped his way along the wall leading to the ostrich kraal. Pat evidently knew his work, for the place was in darkness.

Suddenly a challenge rang out: "Is that you, sorr?"

The speaker was Pat, whom Jack found outside the kraal, holding a couple of horses.

"All right, Pat," answered Jack. "The Boers seem to have departed."

"Then I'll take these nags inside, sorr, an' have a look at them. The poor things are trembling all over their bodies down to their fetlocks."

Jack entered the kraal, followed by Pat, dragging the dumb brutes behind him.

"A light here, Pete," said Jack; and the Kaffir foreman brought a shielded lantern. Jack turned on the light, and by its aid examined the horses.

By the saddlery on the animals, he came to the conclusion that the horses had a couple of hours before formed part of the equipment of Christian Uys's commando, and a patch of clotted blood on the saddle and off stirrup of one of the horses told its own tale.

"Bring the light a little closer, Pat. I want to see the----"

Jack Lovat never finished the sentence, for a fierce fusillade was directed at the kraal from the immediate outside, and Zacchary, who was standing leaning on the butt of his rifle with his head on a level with a porthole, tumbled over--never to rise again, for a Mauser bullet had found its billet in the unfortunate Kaffir's head.

"To the loopholes, boys!" cried Jack; and the defenders replied with a will to the fire of the unseen enemy. For half an hour a constant fusillade was kept up, but without further loss to the defenders of the kraal, after which the Boer fire ceased.

Their attempt to storm the kraal had failed. Very tenderly Jack Lovat and Pat carried the stricken Zacchary to a corner of the kraal, and covered the dead body with some empty mealie sacks, after which Jack paid another visit to the house, where he found his mother and Mary quite safe.

A couple of hours were spent by Jack and Pat in reconnoitring, but all traces of the Boers had vanished, with the exception of a dead horse, which evidently had been wounded and managed to crawl towards the farm, where it had dropped down and died.

About two o'clock in the morning a sheet of flame, accompanied by the reports of many rifles, was seen far down the valley.

"They have come up with some Britishers, Pat," said Jack.

"By the powers!" observed the Irishman, "they seem to be hard at work. I would give something to be there."

For some minutes the firing lasted, then ceased, and shortly afterwards the sound of horses' hoofs could be heard coming up the valley.

Jack and his followers instantly manned the loopholes, but the strangers came steadily on.

"Shall I challenge them, sorr?" asked Pat; and without waiting for a reply, the brave Irishman passed out of the kraal, and with a stentorian voice called out, "Halt! who comes there?" at the same time levelling his rifle at the approaching figures.

"It is I, Pat!" shouted the master of the Kopje Farm; and the next moment Mr. Lovat had Jack in his arms, exclaiming, "It was a near shave, Jack, but I am glad I am able to see you all once more."

Mrs. Lovat and Mary were delighted beyond measure at Mr. Lovat's return, and with much trembling listened to the account of his adventures since he left the Kopje Farm on the previous morning.