Chapter 38. The Sergeant's Notion

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_ CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. THE SERGEANT'S NOTION

"Ah!" said the Sergeant, tapping the ashes out of his pipe and refilling it; "that's a bit of a puzzle, sir."

"Hang out the white flag?" cried Denham bitterly.

"No, sir," cried the Sergeant fiercely.

"What then?" I said.

"What then, sir?" said Briggs fiercely. "We've got plenty of pluck and lots of fight in the boys."

"Yes," said Denham, with his eyes flashing. "Plenty of prime beef and good fresh water, Briggs; but scarcely any cartridges."

"That's right, sir; and so I took the liberty, when I got a chance, of saying a word to the Colonel."

"What about?"

"The Doppies' ammunition-wagons, sir."

"Ah!" cried Denham, rising to his elbow. "I ventured to say, sir, that the young officer as brought in our supply of provisions would have laid himself flat down on the top o' the wall and watched with his glass till he had made out where the best spot was, and then after dark he'd have gone out and made a try to capture one of the ammunition-wagons, and brought it in."

"Impossible, Sergeant," said Denham.

"Bah! That word isn't in a soldier's dictionary, sir. You'd have done it if you'd been well enough."

"But the cartridges mightn't fit our rifles, Sergeant."

"Mightn't, sir; but they might. Then, if the first lot didn't, you'd have gone again and again till you had got the right sort. If none of 'em was the right sort, why, you'd ha' said, 'There's more ways of killing a cat than hanging it,' and gone on another plan."

"What other plan?" I said sharply. "There is no other plan."

"Isn't there?" said the Sergeant, grinning. "They've got one wagon that I can swear to, having made it out through the glass Mr Denham lent me, full of spare rifles of the men put out of action."

"Of course, of course," cried Denham. "Oh dear! oh dear!" he groaned, falling back again with a pitiful look in his eyes. "I'm lying here, completely done for. Why can't that doctor put us right?"

The Sergeant smoked on for a few minutes, looking fiercer than ever.

"Where's Sam Wren, sir?" he said suddenly.

"He was fretting so much last night at being kept in hospital," I replied, "that the doctor said he might rejoin his troop."

"Glad of that. He's one of our best shots. But what's gone of your blacky, Mr Moray?"

"Joeboy? I don't know," I said. "Isn't he with the horses? Oh, of course he'd be looking after mine."

"He ain't, then," said the Sergeant.

"What!" I cried excitedly; "then what about my horse? I've been lying here thinking of nothing but myself. I ought to have seen to him."

"Couldn't," said the Sergeant dryly. "But he's all right."

"Are you sure?" I cried.

The Sergeant nodded. "I saw to him myself. I like that horse."

"Oh Sergeant!" I said, with a feeling of relief. "But what about Joeboy? I did wonder once why he had not been to see me."

"I didn't look after him, sir," said the Sergeant. "He's a sort of free-lancer, and not under orders."

"But when did you see him last?" I asked.

"Well, I'm a bit puzzled about that. I say, hear that?"

"Hear them? Yes, of course," said Denham angrily. "The brutes! The cowards! Oh, if I were only well!"

"Oh, let 'em alone, sir," said the Sergeant coolly as, beginning with a few scattered shots, the firing outside had rapidly increased. "They're doing no harm. Do you know what it is?"

"Our poor fellows exposing themselves thoughtlessly, I suppose," said Denham bitterly.

"Only their hats, sir. It's about the only pleasure the poor lads have. It's a game they have for pennies. Some one invented it yesterday. Six of 'em play, and put on a penny each. Each game lasts five minutes, and the players put their hats upon the top of a stone. Then the man who has most bullets through his hat takes the pool."

"What folly!" said Denham fretfully.

"Well, as I told them, sir, it isn't good for their hats; but, as they said, it wastes the Doppies' cartridges, and pleases the lads to make fools of 'em. You can hear them cheer sometimes when a hat is suddenly pulled down. They think they've killed a man--bless 'em! They're very nice people."

"But, Sergeant, you were telling me about Joeboy," I said. "Can't you think when you saw him last?"

"Not exactly. I've been trying to think it out, because I expected you'd be asking about him. It strikes me that the last I saw of him was the night I was going the rounds after the search for that Irish prisoner. Perhaps he's tired of being shut up?"

"No," I said emphatically.

"Those blacks are men who are very fond of running wild."

"Joeboy wouldn't forsake me, Sergeant," I said impressively.

"Perhaps you're right. He always did seem very fond of you--never happy unless he was at your heels; but he hasn't been hanging about the hospital, you see. It looks like as if that Irishman had given him a crack on the head too, and pitched him down one of the mine-holes."

"Oh no; horrible!" I said.

"Glad you take it that way," said Briggs grimly, "because it would be bad for the water. Well, there's only two other things I can think of just now. One's that he might have been shot by the enemy when driving in the cattle."

"Is it possible?" I said, in alarm.

"Well, yes, it's possible," said the Sergeant; "but I didn't hear any one hint at such a thing happening."

"Oh, surely the poor fellow hasn't come to his end like that! Here, what was your other idea?"

"I thought that, being a keen, watchful sort of fellow, perhaps he might have caught sight of our prisoner escaping."

"Ah!" I ejaculated.

"Yes; and knowing what I do of my gentleman, it seemed likely that he might have followed him just to see that he didn't get into more mischief, particularly if he saw him upset you two."

"No, no; he couldn't. We saw no sign of him," I said excitedly.--"Did you, Denham?"

"Who could see a fellow like that in the dark?" cried Denham peevishly.

"It is possible that, knowing what he did of Moriarty's treatment of me, he may have felt that he had a kind of feud with him, and watched him."

"For a chance to say something to him with one of those spears he carried," said Denham, suddenly growing interested in our remarks.

"Oh no. I don't think he would use his assagai except in an emergency."

"That would be an emergency," said the Sergeant. "I've thought it out over my pipe, and this is what I make of it: he has followed Master Moriarty, and I expect that we shall never hear of him again."

"What! Joeboy?" I cried.

"No; Master Moriarty."

"But that would be murder--assassination," I cried.

"You can use what fine words you like over it," said the Sergeant gruffly; "but I call it, at a time like this, war; and when Mr Joe Black comes back--as I expect he will, soon--and you ask him, he'll say he was only fighting for his master; and that's you."

I was silenced for the moment, though my ideas were quite opposed to the Sergeant's theory.

But Denham spoke out at once.

"That's all very well, Sergeant," he said, "but Mr Moray's black boy is about as savage over his ideas of justice as he is over his ideas of decency in dress. He looks upon this man as an enemy, and his master's enemy; and if he overtakes Moriarty he won't have a bit of scruple about sticking his spear through him."

"And serve him jolly well right, sir."

"No, no; that won't do," said Denham.

"Not at all," I cried, recovering my balance a little.

"But isn't he a renegade, sir?" said the Sergeant.

"We call him so," replied Denham.

"And didn't he attack you two and try to murder you, sir, just as he did poor Sam Wren?"

"Yes, I grant all that, Sergeant; but we're not savages. Now, suppose you had gone in chase of this man, and say you had caught him. Would you have put your revolver to his head and blown out his brains?"

"That ain't a fair question, sir," said the Sergeant gruffly; "and all I've got to say is, that I'm very glad, knowing what I do, that I wasn't in pursuit of him, sword in hand."

"You mean to say that you would have cut him down?" I cried.

"I don't mean to say anything at all, Mr Private Moray, only that I've got my feelings as a soldier towards cowards. There, I won't say another word."

"Then I'll speak for you," said Denham. "You wouldn't have cut the scoundrel down, nor shot him, but you'd have done your duty as trained soldiers do. You'd have taken him prisoner, and brought him in to the Colonel."

"And he'd have had him put up against the nearest wall before a dozen rifles and shot for a murderous traitor, sir."

"But not without a court-martial first, Briggs," said Denham sternly.

"I suppose you're right, sir; but I don't see what comfort a trial by court-martial can be to a man who knows that he's sure to be found guilty and shot."

"But not till he has been justly condemned," I put in.

"Like to know any more about what's going on round about the fort, sir?" said the Sergeant, after giving me a queer look.

"Yes, of course," cried Denham.

"Well, not much, sir. Colonel's always going round about to see that the men don't expose themselves, and I expect that at any time there'll be orders given that neither the horses nor the bullocks are to be driven out to graze."

"Then they are all driven out?" I said.

"Of course, sir. We couldn't keep the bullocks alive without."

"I wonder the Boers don't shoot them," I said.

"Don't like shooting their own property," said the Sergeant, with a grin. "They're always hoping they'll get 'em back; but they'll have to look sharp if they do, for if they're much longer we shall have eaten the lot."

"Take some time to do that, Sergeant," said Denham, laughing.

"Not such a very long time, sir. You see, the men have nothing but water to drink; tobacco's getting scarce; there's no bread, no coffee, no vegetables; and the men have very little to do but rub down their horses to keep 'em clear of ticks: the consequence is that they try to make up for it all by keeping on eating beef, and then sleeping as hard as ever they can."

"I don't know what we can do unless we cut our way through the enemy," said Denham sadly. "I go on thinking the matter over and over, and always come back to the same idea."

"No wonder," said the Sergeant. "That is the only way; so the sooner you two get fit to mount the better, for I don't see that anything can be done till then."

"Are there any more--cripples?" said Denham bitterly.

"Oh, there's a few who'd be off duty if things were right," said the Sergeant cheerfully; "but they make shift. The Colonel limps a bit, and uses his sword like a walking-stick; six have got arms in slings, and four or five bullet-scratches and doctor's patches about 'em; but there isn't a man who doesn't show on parade and isn't ready to ride in a charge."

"But riding," I said, with the eagerness of one who is helpless--"what about the horses?"

"All in fine condition, gentlemen," said the Sergeant emphatically, "but a bit too fine, and they look thin. The Colonel's having 'em kept down so that they shan't get too larky from having no work to do."

"But they're not sent out to graze now?" I said.

"Oh yes, regularly."

"Then why don't the Boers shoot them, so as to make them helpless?"

The Sergeant chuckled.

"Colonel's too smart for them," he said. "The bullocks are sent out in the day with a strong guard on foot to keep behind the oxen, but the horses go out as soon as it's dark, every one with his man to lead him, and all ready for an attack. Ah! but it's miserable work, and I shall be very glad when you two gentlemen are ready to mount again, so that we can go."

"You'll have to go without us, Briggs," said Denham sadly. "I don't suppose the Boers will shoot us if we're taken prisoners."

"That's just what the Colonel's likely to do, sir. It's his regular way with his men. I must be off now, though. Time's up. You'll like to see this, though, Mr Denham?"

The Sergeant began to fumble in his pouch, bringing out several cartridges before he found what he wanted--a dirty-looking piece of milky quartz.

"What have you got there?" we asked in a breath.

"Stuff the men are finding in a hole at the back of the cook's fireplace."

"Why, it's gold ore," I said eagerly.

"Nonsense! What do you know about it?" said Denham, turning the lump over in his hand.

"I know because pieces like that are in the kopje near my home. Joeboy could find plenty like that. He took some to my father once, and father said it was gold."

"Then you've got a mine on your farm?"

"I suppose so; but father said we'd better get rich by increasing the flocks and herds. Look there," I said; "all those are veins of gold, and those others are crystals and scales."

"There, catch, Sergeant," said Denham bitterly. "We don't want gold; we want health, and a way out of this prison."

"That's right, sir; and if you like I'll try and come and tell you how things are going to-night."

"Yes, do," cried Denham. Then the Sergeant thrust his piece of gold ore and quartz back into his pouch, and marched away.

"Val, old chap," said Denham as soon as we were alone, "that fellow seemed to cheer me up a bit while he was here."

"Yes," I said; "he roused me up too."

"But now he's gone I'm down again lower and lower than ever I was before. I begin to wish I were dead. Oh dear! who'd be a wounded man who feels as helpless as a child?"

I was silent.

"Is that doctor ever coming to see us again?"

"Yes," said a sharp, clear voice. "Now then, most impatient of all patients, how are you getting on?"

"Getting ready for the firing-party to waste a few cartridges over, doctor. Can't you see?"

"Humph!" said our visitor, feeling the poor fellow's head and then his pulse. "Here, drink a little of this."

"More physic?" groaned Denham despondently.

"Yes, Nature's," replied the doctor, holding out a folding cup which he had refilled. "Fresh water; a bucket just brought to the screen there by the orderly."

As he spoke he raised the poor fellow up with one arm and held the cup to his lips.

Denham took a few drops unwillingly, then a little more, and finally finished the cupful with avidity, while the sight of my companion drinking seemed to produce a strange, feverish sensation in my throat.

The next minute the doctor had let Denham sink down, and refilled the cup and handed it to me. It was delicious, and I drained the little vessel all too soon. Then I was gently lowered, and the doctor repeated the dose with us both.

"That's better," he said quietly. "You two fellows have been talking too much; now shut your eyes and have a good long sleep."

"What! in the middle of the day?" protested Denham.

"Yes. Nature wants all your time now for healing your damaged places. No more talking. I'll come again by-and-by."

"How absurd!" said Denham as soon as the tilt had fallen back to its place. "I can't sleep now. Can you?"

"Impossible," I said, and I lay looking up at the long slit of blue sky over the wagon-tilt. Then I was looking at something black as ink, and beyond it the slit of blue sky was fiery orange.

"Joeboy?" I said wonderingly.

"Um? Yes, Boss," was the reply.

"How long have you been here?"

"Um? Long, long time. Boss Val been very fass asleep."

"Hist! Is Mr Denham asleep?" I whispered.

"Um? Very fass; not move once."

I was silent for a few moments, struggling mentally to say something, I could not tell what.

"Boss Val like drink o' water?" said the black just then.

"Yes--no. Ah, I remember now," I cried eagerly, for it all came back. "Where have you been all this time?"

The black smiled.

"Um? Been to see Boss and Aunt Jenny."

"You have?" I cried eagerly. "But stop a moment. You went after that Irish captain?"

The black nodded, and, to my horror, his face contracted and his lips drew away from his white teeth, but not in a grin.

I lay back looking at him wildly, and as I gazed in his eyes the appearance of his countenance made me shudder just then, lit up by the fiery glow of the sunset which flooded the place through the openings above the tilt. It seemed to me horrible, and for a long time I could not speak. At last the words came:

"Did you know that he struck down Mr Denham, and nearly killed us both?"

"Um? Yes. Soldiers tell Joeboy."

"And you followed him?"

"Um? Yes," came, accompanied by a nod.

"And you've killed him with your assagai?" I said, with a shudder, as I glanced at where three of the deadly weapons lay at the side of my rough couch, across his shield.

"Um? No. Nearly kill Joeboy."

"Ah!" I cried, with a curious feeling of relief.

"Joeboy run after him all away among the Doppies; when they shoot, Joeboy lie down, and then follow um till he see um. Then he shoot, and--look here."

Joeboy held up his left arm, smiling, and I saw that it was roughly tied up with a piece of coarse homespun.

"He wounded you?"

"Um? Yes. Shot pistol, and make hole here."

"And he got away unhurt?"

"Um? Yes; this time," said the black. "Next time Joeboy make hole froo um somewhere. Hate um."

"But your wound?" I said. "Is it bad?"

"Um? Only little hole. Soon grow up again."

"Now tell me, how are all the people at home--my father, my aunt, and Bob?"

Joeboy shook his head.

"What do you mean?" I said. "Haven't you seen them?"

"Um? No; all gone right away. Doppies been and burnt all up. All gone."

"What's that?" said Denham, who had been awakened by our talking--"the Boers have been and burnt up that jolly old farm?"

"Um? Yes, Boss. All gone."

"The brutes!" _

Read next: Chapter 39. The Doctor's Dose

Read previous: Chapter 37. A Hospital Visitor

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