Chapter X

It was wondrous how quickly the Burghers got through their breakfast and were saddled up next morning. Long before sun-up they came to me in twos and threes to tell me it was time to trek; but I remembered what Andries had advised, and was short, sharp, and dignified in my manner towards them, and made my breakfast with great slowness, just to show them how cool and unconcerned I could be in time of great strife and seriousness. When at last I gave the word to ride, they were off without asking a single question, and not a Burgher had to go back for anything he had forgotten, the most truly marvellous thing I had ever seen in any commando.

As we rode, Andries told me about the transport we were to cut off and capture. It consisted of about twenty waggons, made up of parties from Mooi River, Estcourt, and Maritzburg, travelling together for safety, and taking by-roads over the desolated country between the railway and the Drakensberg mountains, so as to reach and supply that part of General Buller’s army scattered between Estcourt and Ladysmith, then in the sixth week of its siege.

Andries had well thought out his plan, showing me that he was a skilful man, who could see a very long way in front of him. He knew exactly how many waggons there were, whom they belonged to, and whether the oxen were good or otherwise. “There are,’ he said, “three waggons belonging to Smith of Sandvlei, all good; then there are three of Bush of Belmont, all poor. Bush is one of those Natal loyalists who are always abusing the Boers; but when he heard the British were commandeering waggons and oxen, he sent all his best away to the most distant part of his farm, leaving only poor cattle to be hired at two pounds a -day. I am sorry that the British will have to pay a schelm like him for the oxen he will lose to-day.”

And so Andries talked on, showing me how well Charlotte and his spies must have done their part of the work. He had also got all the details ready for the capture. “We shall sight them,” said he, “as soon as we get on the top of yonder rise, just as they are preparing to cross Bokman’s Drift. The road there goes down a steep hill, turns sharply up a deep kloof, and back on the opposite side, going up one side of a V and down the other, so that we shall have them in a narrow hole below us. We shall leave our horses on this side of the rise, and line the top of the pass, lying among the boulders, which are big and many. No khaki scout will ride among them to look for us, as they have been told at Estcourt there are no Boers in this part of the country. Now, Sarel, halt your schelms in that kloof and tell them what I have just told you; it will satisfy them that you know all about the country, which they have doubts on so far.”

I made Andries repeat all that he had said, so that I should make no mistakes, then halted the commando in the kloof and sent six Burghers ahead to spy out what was doing over the rise. While the scouts were gone I made a speech to the Burghers, describing all that Andries had told me. I was glad to see by the look on their faces and the remarks I heard, that they were surprised that I should know so much about the country and the proper way to attack a convoy. But they did not like the fighting, I could easily see, for nearly all the commando were fresh, having remained in the dorps and on their farms as long as possible, where they had done nothing but talk, and abuse the Burghers for being beaten at Elandslaagte. The only ones who had seen war had been at that great and bloody fight, and were never tired of telling about the lancers, and the Scotsmen who wear kilts and do such awful things with their bayonets, till the Burghers would go to sleep, feeling all the internal complaints for which they had got doctors’ certificates.

In less than an hour the scouts returned and brought good news, except that the waggons were not as many as we had thought, being only sixteen; but there were three spare spans of sixteen to help pull over the bad places. There were about a hundred khakis as escort, and one of the scouts had recognised them as belonging to a regiment only just out from England, who would not know how we should attack,—for in the early days of the war the khakis always crowded close together when fighting, making it easier to hit than to miss them. But as they got wisdom they did as the Boers did—scattered widely, and ran away when they could fight no more, which is much more sensible than standing up to be killed.

“Are there any lancers?” asked a dozen Burghers of the scouts.

“Not one; nor are the bayonets in the rifles.”

Immediately the anxious look on their faces faded partly away.

“There may be lancers behind,” said Andries; ‘but they ride slowly, and will not get up till the business is all finished.”

The serious look came back to the faces of the Burghers, and I began to marvel that Andries should say such a thing, till I remembered that he never spoke a word without having some good reason for it. As the Burghers began to look very thoughtful and ceased to talk much, as if thinking of their farms and their vrouws, I hurried them to take up their positions on the top of the rise before they had time to get more frightened. Andries gave good advice in the matter of taking cover, as so few of the Burghers had fought white men. They were more anxious to find spots where all their bodies were hidden than positions that enabled them to see what to shoot at. Most of them, too, began to light their pipes and place their hats on stones far away from them, as is the custom when fighting white men or Kafirs with guns; but Andries stopped this.

“These khakis,” said he, ‘are not yet good shots, and if they fire at the hats they are more likely to hit you,” on which the Burghers put their hats on very quickly. There was no lack of Burghers ready to stay with the horses below the rise; but as we had plenty of Kafirs to do this, I made them all go among the stones, which they did very slowly until Andries shouted, “Here come the khakis!” and they were out of sight instantly.

Truly the trap had been well planned; for when once the waggons had got down into the V-shaped gully they would be at our mercy, for we had two hundred and fifty Burghers, well covered, lying all along the edge, and commanding every bit of the road. Even if the khakis proved good shots, they would have no chance of hitting our men, for they would have to fire upwards—a very difficult thing when one must keep the body covered from an enemy who is looking down. Neither could the waggons go back, for the road ran along the steep side of the mountain, and was only just wide enough for one waggon, and easy enough for a careless driver to send oxen and waggon crashing to the bottom.

The advice I gave was that, at the word, the Kafir drivers and voorloupers who lead the oxen were to be shot. The waggons would then have to stop, for no Britisher can drive an ox-waggon without years of practice. The Burghers at the coming-out end of the valley were then to fire, to give the khakis a chance to run back, which was the thing Andries was most uncertain about, knowing that in their stupidity khakis will not run away, but stay to shoot, even when they can see nothing to shoot at. I also was secretly in hopes that when they found they could not go forward they would run, for I did not want to have it on my mind that I had shot any British; and least of all did I want them to stay and use their bayonets, which is a thing no Boer can stand, and, with the lances, ought to be forbidden in warfare as dangerous and painful.

We could hear the waggons and the cries of the drivers long before they began to descend the steep roadway, and the sound made my heart thump, for I could not help fearing that just as wealth was close to my hand I might get a bullet, though I got some consolation from remembering that the khakis are not, like the Boers, more keen on killing officers than privates; but then I knew that even the kindest khaki could not always be certain where his bullet would go. These thoughts must have been written in my face, for Andries, who sat near me, spoke sharp words to me as if I were in fear, not knowing that mine were only the proper thoughts that should be in a man’s heart at such a time. I noticed, too, that when the young Burghers heard the sound of the waggons they began to grow restive, and talked and whispered until I had to call silence. Some of them handled their rifles in such a nervous manner, that I began to fear they would do as old Scheepers did at the Queen’s Battery when the Jameson raiders were riding along all unsuspecting,—fire in their excitement and discover our ambush. I whispered my thoughts to Andries, who, being a fearless man, called out, ‘I’ll shoot any man who fires before the word is given.”

One of the Burghers answered, “Who are you to talk thus?”

Andries moved towards the man, with his sjambok raised, at which the Burgher took fright.

“All right, commandant,” said the man; ‘I thought it was Jan Meyer,” which was a lie, for the voices were very different.

Presently, after what seemed a long hour’s waiting, we saw on the crest of the ridge two mounted khakis. They were the advanced scouts, and should have been at least a mile in front of the main body, but foolishly believing what they had been told at Mooi River about there being no Boers in this part of the country, they rode only about a hundred yards ahead of the first waggon, and on the road, instead of well on either side, where they must have seen some sign of us. But they did not, and rode into the trap, smoking and talking as if passing through the street of a friendly dorp. Next came the first waggon, with a few khakis on it, and others walking at the side, carrying their rifles slung or at the slope; and here and there a mounted transport -rider or owner of the waggons, swearing at the Kafir drivers and making a great show of doing something to earn his two pounds per waggon a-day. But never a one went off the track to see what might be behind the boulders that filled the valley and covered both sides of the mountain.

The first waggon had reached the bottom of the descent, crossed the drift, and rounded the corner for the upward journey, when just what I had feared happened. A mauser shot was fired by one of our Burghers lying in the line about midway along the road. Andries swore as no man who reads his Bible as he pretended to ought; but all his swearing proved vain, for before he had let out a dozen words the reports of rifles made it hard to hear a man speak. The Burghers were blazing away from both sides and front, and the khakis were unslinging their rifles and standing at the ready, looking for something to shoot at. But our men lay flat, and except for a hat falling here or there, or the barrel of a rifle showing above the stones as it was brought to the aim, there was nothing to make a mark. Three of the Kafir voorloupers had been hit, and were howling and crying out as Kafir boys do when frightened and hurt. I saw some of the Kafir drivers throw down their long whips and crawl under the waggons, of which there were now six in sight, all in great confusion, some stopped. In others the drivers were whipping up the oxen, as if trying to pass the waggon in front, while in each span there were oxen hit and lying struggling in a heap, on to which other cattle were continually falling. Two young khaki officers were running among the men shouting out orders, and very sorry I felt for them, though at the same time I was angered by their folly in not getting under the waggon; and I was not surprised soon to see one give a jump and fall against the waggon, and almost directly afterwards the other sat down, but still kept shouting out directions, though I could see he was hit in the leg. Four or five khakis were also hit, and then the others very wisely took cover on the opposite side of the waggons; but though they fired rapidly, none of our men were hit. Presently three khakis fell at the same moment.

“Tell them to surrender,” I shouted to Andries, who was watching the business through a pair of field-glasses.

“All right,” answered he. ‘I don’t want to appear if I can help it, so send a Burgher to tell them to put their hands up.”

“Nick Grobbelaar,” I shouted to the nearest Burgher I could see, ‘call out ‘hands up!’”

But never a word from Nick. I called to him again.

“Nay, commandant, I have a vrouw and twelve children. I am not going to be shot because these khakis won’t know when they are finished. Tell them yourself.”

I called to three or four others, but none would speak, being fearful of drawing the bullets upon them; so, disguising my voice, I called out, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared. You are surrounded, and we only want your oxen.”

“Come out, you cowards,” was the only reply I got, and with it a volley in our direction, which showed that the Burghers had good reason for not obeying me.

Just then I saw a strange thing. The old German, Hendrik Keiser, stood up without his rifle, and, holding both hands high above his head, ran down the rough side of the valley, calling out in his funny English, “Don’t shoot, Zhon Bool!”

As soon as the khakis saw him they ceased to fire, only a few shots going off at intervals from both sides. The officer with the wounded leg got up with great difficulty and limped towards him.

“Do you surrender?” he asked.

“Vy, no, I am knock in de shest, and de bullet make me run or fall on my face, so I run.”

“Then come here,” said the officer, and the last we saw of Hendrik was his fat body being pulled under the waggon, he talking fast in English, German, and Dutch. We could hear him plainly say, “You are dam fool Englishman. We are tousands and tousands. Why don’t you run hard?”

But the khakis did not run, but got closer under cover of the waggons and fired whenever they could get a mark, which was not often. The Burghers, too, began to shoot more slowly, for they were wisely fearful of hitting the oxen, which were now mixed up so much that it was impossible to hit a man except through a carcass.

“What shall we do?” I asked of Andries, for I could see that if the khakis got behind the oxen we could do nothing, for our Burghers were firing less and less, the shots dropping in ones and twos, with long pauses between.

Before Andries could answer, a shouting came from the waggons highest up on the road, and, looking up, we saw our Burghers running up to the waggons, and the khakis standing as if uncertain what to do.

“Come on, kerels, they have surrendered,” said Andries, getting up from behind the stone where he had sat all the time; but I, more discreet, did not move, and was rewarded, for a bullet took Andries in the hand, making him swear and yell as a wound there always does any man, even those who would not cry out if a bullet went through their bodies, as I have seen. When he had made a finish of swearing, Andries ran towards the waggons, shouting, “Stop it, you fools! we are too many for you,” and one of the transport-riders took up the cry.

The khakis stood dazed and uncertain, while the Burghers walked up with no great haste until all the firing was finished; but before the smell of gunpowder was gone out of the air they were drinking beer with the khakis and making friends.

I never learned properly how the surrender came about, but from what I could see and heard, it was a case of mistake on both sides. Old Keiser had been hit, as he said, and did as men often do when shot— rushed forward; and as the ground sloped very greatly he could not stop himself, and so ran on to the waggons. This was seen by both khakis and Burghers, and before it was understood, the fighting had stopped; the khakis seeing no officers, but hearing the transport-rider calling out “Stop,” concluded that the order had been given to them to surrender,

There had been wondrous few hurts, considering that the khakis had so little cover. Both officers, a captain and a lieutenant, were hit, but not seriously. All the Kafir drivers were hit, and two voorloupers killed; but of the eight khakis only one was badly hurt, for which I was secretly very thankful.

“I thought you Boers were such fine shots,” said a Tommy. ‘You had us in a box, yet only scratched half-a-dozen of us.”

“We were merciful,” said a Burgher, “for you did us no harm; you hit only one of our men.”

“We could not see you,” answered the Tommy, “but I can see you now. Take that for your mercy,” and he hit the Burgher between the eyes, and knocked him down as if he had been shot. “Come on,” shouted the Tommy, taking off his tunic; “come on. If you can’t fight better than you can shoot I’ll take on the whole bloomin’ Boer army, Kroojer thrown in. Come on!” and he began punching every Burgher standing within reach of his fists.

He had knocked down three and driven the rest before him, when a little sergeant came up. Although nothing so big as the fighting Tommy, he ordered him to put on his tunic and go behind the waggon, which the Tommy did in the most meek and obedient way. The Burghers would have run after him, but Andries called them back, saying, “Go, collect the rifles from the khakis and stack them here. Sarel, go you and talk to the khaki captain, and tell him he may march all his men back, as we only want the oxen and stores.”

I found the young captain sitting under the waggon nursing a broken leg, and in great pain.

‘I’m sorry you are hurt,’ I began; but he stopped me with “Damn your sorrow; go and find my sergeant-major, and ask if he has any medical comforts, and find out how many of my men are hit.”

I went and inquired for the sergeant-major, and found him, like the captain, nursing a wounded leg. I told him what the captain had said.

“We have no medicine-chest,” said he; “and as to the wounded, you can count them yourself, for you did it, not we.”

I went the round of the waggons, and found the number of the wounded as I have mentioned, and went back to the khaki captain and told him. He swore a bit; then, speaking with as much authority as if he were master instead of me, said, “You want the oxen, do you? Well, I’m sorry I can’t prevent your taking them, so take them and your damned rascals off as soon as you can, and leave us to go back in our own way; otherwise my men will start again, for they consider they have been had. The order to cease firing was given by one of your damned colonials. Why don’t you come out and fight like men?” he went on, his anger rising, for he was suffering great pain from his leg, therefore I was not annoyed at his

manner. I was tempted to answer that we did not come out and fight because we were not fools; but there was before me the thought that I might soon be on the English side, and I did not want any unwise speech to come up against me. So I did not answer him in anger, but, instead, spoke cheerfully and friendly, saying there was no disgrace in his being defeated, for a young officer must be naturally ignorant. I meant nothing offensive, but he took it as if I did, and said some very severe things about Boers which I would not stay to hear.

While I had been talking with the captain, the Burghers were opening some of the cases on the waggons and helping themselves to the good things they found in them, particularly the wine and tinned things. At that time our Burghers had all they wanted in the way of food and clothes, for the stores commandeered in Johannesburg came down to the laager by the waggon-load, so they cared more for what the English called medical comforts—which is champagne and brandy—than food-stuffs, except of course jam and sardines, which a Boer would sit up in his dying bed to eat.

“Come and have some champagne, Tommy,” said a Burgher who had opened a case.

“You are pretty liberal with other people’s liquor,” said Tommy.

“But it belongs to us now,” answered the Burgher.

“Well, that alters the case, so I don’t mind if I do,” said Tommy, and he drank, and a dozen others with

him.

“You are a rummy lot, you Boers,” said one Tommy. “How the thunder do you come to speak English and look so white?”

Before an answer could be given, Andries came up and hurried the Burghers to outspan the oxen. They were not inclined at first to leave the drinking, till he whispered in the Taal, “Remember the poisoned whisky and the lancers.”

This made them start, and most of them helped to get the cattle out of the yokes.

When we were ready to move on, Andries said to the khaki captain—

“Send a mounted messenger back to Mooi River, telling them what has happened, while your men remain looking after the wounded. If any Boers turn up, tell them that General Joubert and Commandant Ben Viljoen are very strong against Natal Burghers who lend their oxen to the military, and have been here to take them away.”

“Where is General Joubert?” asked the captain.

“Here he is,” answered Andries, pointing to himself.

The captain took a long look at him, and smiled, answering—

“Well, General, I’m glad to have met you, and am only sorry that we have not changed places. But I did not know that Boer generals went out cattle-stealing. I suppose your friend there is Commandant Ben Viljoen?”

He is. Come here, Ben.”

I went up.

“Allow me to introduce you. Captain——?”

“Walker,” said the captain.

“Captain Walker—Commandant Ben Viljoen,—the brains of the Boer army.”

The captain said, “How d’ye do?” carelessly, smiling all the time.

“And now, captain,’ Andries continued, “let me give you some good advice, for you are a plucky chap, and if you take pains you may get a Victoria Cross yet. Next time you are in charge of transport, don’t believe what the stay-at-home staff officers tell you about there being no Boers in the country, but send your scouts well in front and on both sides. And when it comes to fighting, make your men lie down, and set the example yourself, for a wounded officer is not much use. You fellows look very nice standing up waving your sticks, but my photographer is too busy taking the pictures of prisoners at Pretoria to be here to-day.”

I did not catch the full reply of the captain, and if I had I do not think it would look well in print.

We then went away. As we passed the stack of captured rifles, Andries stopped and looked at them.

“There should be nearly a hundred here, but there are less than fifty,” said he. “Where are the others?”

A young lad who was sitting by eating sardines, and drinking champagne out of a broken bottle, answered—

“All sold, coos.”

“Sold! what do you mean?”

“Gert Smit was in charge of them, but he has sold them back to the khakis for a shilling each.”

Andries burst out laughing.

“Sarel, they must have winnowed the jails to make up your commando,” said he. ‘Never mind; fifty rifles won’t hurt us. Let us get off with the cattle,” and with much coaxing, bullying, and swearing we got most of the Burghers away from the waggons and the company of the Tommies, who were fast making them drunk, and had already made Franz Liebenberg sing “God save the Queen,’ and were starting a smoking concert under the shade of one of the waggons, and drinking champagne and brandy as if it was milk. If we had not started then, there would not have been a sober man in the commando. As it was, half of them were getting foolish, and were shaking hands with the Tommies and drinking healths as if they were old friends met after a long time.

We got away at last, with about three hundred oxen and eight good horses—a very nice capture, worth in money at least three thousand pounds.

After about two hours’ trek we came to a kloof full of thorn-bushes, where we off-saddled, and turned the cattle into a hollow, where the Kafirs kept them herded well together, while the Burghers finished the bottles of champagne and brandy and other things they had brought with them.

“Come with me, Sarel,” said Andries, leading the way up the kloof out of hearing of the Burghers.

When we were quite safe from listeners, Andries unfolded to me his cunning plan.

“We have,” said he, “over three thousand pounds worth of cattle, and now you must help me put the money in the bank.”

M

I did not understand him, but not liking to show my ignorance, I answered that I should be glad to do so.

I am going to ride back towards the waggons,” he went on. “Half an hour later I shall come riding in as if all the devils were behind me, shouting out ‘Lancers!’ The rest will be quite easy. The Burghers will leave in a great hurry, and you with them, but not in front. After a bit you will hear a rifle-shot and fall off your horse, saying you are wounded, but telling them not to wait for you, which will not be necessary, but it will sound well. When they are out of sight you will come back to the kloof and help me bank the money.”

It was a great and clever plan, and immediately I saw as through a mist when the sun and wind begin to melt it away. After a few more words of instruction from Andries, I went back to the Burghers, while he took his horse and went away quietly.

The Burghers were all lying in the shade, many of them asleep, for it was two hours past noon and the sun very hot. I sat down and waited, with my heart thumping forcefully, watching the Burghers, and wondering what would happen should the plan miscarry, though I could hardly believe that the name of “Lancers” would not prove of mighty effect; for not even the news that the Kafirs were making a night-attack during the Magato campaign produced such fear as the name of these British soldiers with what the Burghers, in their ignorance, called ‘long sticks with knives,” just as they always miscalled swords “long knives.” It was a long wait, as ever half hours always are when one waits for serious matters. I could hear Andries’ horse many times before he came, so that when at last he really did come, I was hardly certain about it.

“Pas op, Burghers! Lancers! Lyddite!” he shouted, riding right among the drowsy and half-drunken bodies.

Never have I seen men move more quickly; never were horses saddled faster; and, quick as they were, they would have been even quicker, but in their hurry and fright they picked up each others’ saddles and bridles, a thing a Boer rarely does, for he knows his saddle as he knows his oxen and even his children. Most rode off before they had their feet in the stirrups, and more than one fell off because he had not properly fastened the saddle-girth. All the time Andries was dashing about wildly, shouting and exciting them to speed by crying in his big voice, “Back to the laager! Lancers! Lancers! Lyddite guns coming!’ So natural and serious did he look, that I began to think that, after all, it might be really true; and I should have believed it had not I noticed that he was driving the Kafirs back to the cattle, and striking hard and often at them with his sjambok.

“Now go, Sarel,” said he to me, when the last Burgher was away. ‘Fall off when you hear the shot, and scream out loud as you know how.”

I rode off; but, fast as I went, I could not catch up the main body, who were half-way up the farthest ridge. Just as I had got abreast of three or four of the rearmost, bang went a rifle-shot, followed quickly by three or four. I shouted out, “I’m shot!” reined in my horse, and carefully slipped out of the saddle, making a great groaning and sobbing, as Burghers do when hit. The Burghers nearest looked round over their shoulders, but before I could say “Ride on— never mind me,” they had lashed up their horses and were out of hearing. So I lay still, holding the reins of my horse, and wondering what was to be the next part of this exceedingly cunning business.

A few more shots were fired from the direction of the kloof, and then I heard a horse coming towards me. I turned and looked, and my heart thumped, for I saw a khaki with helmet, and it came to me that, after all, the lancers had come. In my surprise I stood up, when the voice of Andries said, “Lie down, you fool, you are badly wounded; the fools may be looking from the kopjie.”

I lay down, and carefully felt myself all over to make certain that I was not really wounded, so naturally did this clever man speak and act.

Andries burst out laughing. “You are not very badly hurt, Sarel; I could see that by the careful way you fell.”

When I looked round, I saw to my surprise that not only was Andries in khaki uniform, but that four Kafirs with him were also wearing British uniforms.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked, very much puzzled.

“Only part of the business. We are the lancers,” and he laughed again. “Now get up as if you were really hurt, not as nimbly as you did when you got the lance in your calf. Lean on me as we walk back to the kloof, for the schelms are certain to be watching us from the kopjies. They’ll think you are taken prisoner.”

We walked slowly over the five or six hundred yards between us and the kloof, keeping on the higher ground, so that the watching Burghers could see well.

“You did that much better than you did the first wound you had, Sarel,” said Andries, when we had ° got to the cover of the kloof. ‘Now we will drink success, for the schelms have been good enough to leave some champagne.”

One of the Kafirs in khaki picked up a bottle and handed it to me. As he did so I recognised in him the Kafir I had seen at Andries’ place with the letters from Ladysmith.

“So you had your boys with the transport, Andries,” I said.

“I have my boys wherever they are most useful.”

“What do we do next?” I asked, when we had finished the very good meal we made on the things left by the frightened Burghers.

“As soon as it is dark we go to the bank,” answered he.

I asked no more, for I knew that whatever this clever man had planned would be done in his own time, and I did not wish to say anything that would make it seem that I mistrusted him; and particularly was it important that I should not let him think that I was slow of comprehension, for a Boer can never resist taking advantage of one whom he believes to be less far-sighted and slim than himself, a habit they have learned from the Rooineks and Hollanders.

While we were eating, the Kafirs were cutting down big thorn-bushes, to be drawn by the rearmost cattle to cover up our tracks, which is an old Boer trick that is very successful when white men or Transvaal and Natal Kafirs have to be deceived, but is useless against Hottentots, who are so marvellously clear-sighted that they can tell the age and almost the colour of an ox by its spoor. But the Natal Kafir, having been spoiled by the treatment he gets from the whites, has lost what cunning he had, and uses his cleverness only to write forged passes to get drink.

We had, with the two Kafirs who had remained behind from the runaway commando, eight, which was not too many to drive three hundred cattle in the dark; but as we had horses enough for all of them, this did not matter so much. Besides, all the oxen were used to the trek, so they gave very little trouble, keeping close together and following the leading oxen, though the after-animals did not at first understand having to pull the thorn-bushes, and kept going off the track.

We left the kloof just as it began to get dark, first going back on our tracks towards the waggons, then turning towards the Drakensberg, which was in the opposite direction to our laager.

The bushes dragged behind acted wondrously well in smoothing and hiding our tracks, for while they laid the grass in one direction, making it look as if blown by the wind, they also raised the dust in the sandy parts, so that it fell again and covered the hoof-marks, till only a Hottentot tracker could see that a herd of oxen had passed.

We made good travelling, and within two hours had entered a wild and mountainous country, so full of kloofs, valleys, and broad and deep hollows, that an army as big as the British could hide for days without being seen by white scouts such as they used. The Kafirs seemed to know the road well, for they went on without pause or uncertainty, even when it grew so dark that we could not see two horses’ length in front of us. The moon was due to rise at eight, so we halted for an hour till it was well up, when we got on again, the way being up the sides of mountains, along Kafir tracks so narrow that only an African horse could ride them without slipping. Now and then we passed over wide flat mountain-tops giving splendid grazing, but in winter-time covered with snow, as Andries told me. It was quite nine o’clock, and the oxen were showing signs of weariness, when I heard the lowing of oxen some distance to the right.

“We are near the bank,” said Andries, as we began to climb a path so steep and stony that it seemed only goats could pass up it. As it was, the oxen often slipped, and one fell down the steep sides into the valley below, where we could hear its moans for some time.

When I had grown tired with the climbing, often being on my horse’s neck or lying back on the crupper, we came out on the top of a mountain, which I could see in the moonlight was a great basin-shaped pan or hollow, perhaps more than a hundred acres in extent, and full of small wide gullies and little valleys that seemed made for hiding cattle. As far as I could see were beasts standing or lying down, till it seemed there was hardly room for our big herd. I afterwards learned that they numbered near a thousand oxen and horses, and all got as we had got these. A few old tents and Kafir grass-huts stood about, and into the largest hut Andries went as soon as he had dismounted, I following. It was kept for him, I could see, for there were a bed, table, stools, and the other things one would expect to find in a white man’s place; also several wooden packing-cases that served as cupboards. From one of them Andries took out plates and knives, and other things needed for eating with, and we made a good meal on tinned provisions such as are served out to soldiers. There was also wine and spirits, which Andries offered me; but knowing that, as a man with an intelligent and active brain, spirits always does quicker work on me than on ignorant and unintellectual people, I felt fearful of taking it, though secretly I knew that my body required such support. Besides, I felt that now the time had come when I was to learn more than ever of the way I was to go to make money and keep safe with both sides.

“I do not think I will drink, Andries,” said I, “for the champagne we had in the kloof has not yet left off its work in my head.”

“Quite right, Sarel; men who have great things to do must keep away from the bottle, or they will get the worst of bargaining with men who know how to leave it alone.”

This speech made me feel great faith in Andries, for it showed me that he had no desire to take advantage of me through my having a delicate brain.

“I suppose we have a settlement to-night,” said I, encouraged by his honesty over the liquor to say in words what had been all the time in my heart.

“Ja, Sarel, we will have a settlement, for you have done your part well; but it is only the beginning of even greater things which you must learn to do without my help, for you must know I have other commandos helping me besides yours, and I cannot always be with you.”

While he was talking, Andries went to a corner of the hut and moved away a box, showing a little hole in the ground, and out of that he took a small book.

“This is my private ledger. It is safer to keep it here among Kafirs who cannot read, than to carry it among those who can, eh?”

While I smoked, Andries sat looking at the book and making calculations on the bare table. Presently he said, “Sarel, you have helped me get three hundred oxen and eight horses. They are worth, at present prices, let us say twelve pounds apiece all round, which is three thousand six hundred sovereigns. Now if your men had not run away and left you to bring the cattle without their help, half that money would have been divided among them, giving them five pounds apiece, and your share as commandant would

have been perhaps twenty pounds. Now I am going to be liberal; I am going to give you fifty times that, which is a thousand pounds.”

My heart gave a great thump of joyfulness; for though I had expected a good bit of money, I had not thought of so large a sum, for something had made me think that Andries was too fond of money to share liberally with others. Still I would not put my thoughts in words, but only said, “Yes,” quite carelessly.

Andries took it as I secretly hoped he would—that I was dissatisfied.

“Man,” said he, “how long would you have to be robbing the Government before you could make so much? With all your cleverness it took you five years to rob them of fifteen hundred pounds.”

This reference to the affair at Prinsloosdorp angered me, because it was not true that I had had nearly so much, and I was going to explain, when Andries stopped me.

“Never mind how much you might have taken,” said he. “It is enough to know that you have made a thousand pounds in a day. The question is, How shall I pay you? I have not a thousand pounds in notes here, nor do I think it would be wise for you to carry so much.”

“But why cannot I take it from the money you left with Van der Murphy and the other Burghers?” I inquired.

“There are reasons,” replied Andries, in a slow and meaning sort of way.

“Do you think he will go off with the money?”

If he has not done so already I have made a great mistake in him.”

“And the Coetzees—have they also gone?”

“They are on the way to the Transvaal by this time.”

“Then why did you give them the money, knowing they were not oprecht Burghers?”

“I thought you wanted those men out of the way?”

“Yes; but there was a cheaper way of getting rid of them.”

“Not much cheaper, Sarel.”

“But a thousand pounds each is not cheap.”

“How do you know they had a thousand pounds?”

“I saw you give it them.”

“Which shows how clever I am as a conjuror, for if I could deceive a clever man like you I could take in a Hollander accountant.”

I was astonished at what this speech revealed; but before I could say anything Andries went on—

“You saw me put the notes in the envelope?”

“Certainly.”

“Yet did not see me take them out again?”

“No.”

“Do you remember how I made each man look for a piece of string in my haversack?”

“I do.”

“And what was I doing while their backs were turned?”

“Taking out the notes?”

“Nay, doing a very easy conjuring trick—changing the envelopes. I had one full of notes, six just like it, only full of bits of newspaper.”

“You are a wonderful man, Andries; but suppose they come back and tell what has been done?”

“Sarel, you are very simple for a public prosecutor. Is it likely that a man who steals a purse will come back to say there is not so much in it as he thought? Nay, Sarel, although you have had to do with Rooineks on the Rand, you do not know human nature. Besides, do you not see that I had a double-barrelled gun? Suppose that instead of running away your Burghers had helped in bringing in these cattle, and had asked for their share of the money I had promised. I should have told them that the money was with Van der Murphy and the Coetzees, who had run away with it, and so much would have been saved. As it is, this explanation is not needed; but you see, Sarel, I leave nothing to chance.”

“But supposing they had not run away?”

“I should have called on Van der Murphy to pay out the money, and finding only bits of newspaper in the envelope, I should leave him to satisfy the Burghers that he had not stolen it, and by way of helping them to make up their minds I should produce the original envelope, torn and dirty, which I should say had been found outside the laager.”

I could not say a word, so surprised and full of admiration was I at this truly wonderful man; and for the first time I began to have doubts whether he could be an Afrikander as he said he was, for such rascality requires great brains and much education.

“After what I have told you, I suppose you will look well into the envelope I give you,” said Andries, laughing.

“Nay, Andries, I think you’ll play fair with me.”

“Certainly, Sarel; it pays to be honest in playing games like this, and it would not pay me to lose your help, though I am afraid your Burghers will take a lot of sweetening before they get over that lancer scare enough to go after more transports. Now, Sarel, I owe you a thousand pounds. I can pay you half in Standard Bank notes, which are good in Natal; but the thing is, What are you going to do with them? If you carry them on you and get taken prisoner by your own Burghers—which is quite likely—they are certain to search you,—for remember, Sarel, this will be the second time that you and certain sums of other people’s money have disappeared together. And then you have been a Transvaal official, and all of you are believed to have part of the Treasury sewn in your shirts. So, Sarel, you must trust me a little longer. Take a hundred golden sovereigns, which is not too much to lose and not enough to cause suspicion, but just enough to be useful if you have to run away suddenly—as no doubt you will.”

I was bitterly disappointed. For though I quite agreed with Andries as to the risk and danger of carrying so large a sum as a thousand pounds, my experience as an official had taught me the wisdom of always taking money offered at the time, for so many things might happen if one delayed; and I had secretly hoped that as soon as I got the thousand pounds I might contrive to get safely away to Delagoa Bay. For although a thousand pounds is not a great sum of money as we reckon in the Transvaal, it would be sufficient to enable me to lie quiet till the war was finished. Andries, as usual, was quick in reading my thoughts.

“Sarel,” said he, “you are foolish to be greedy. Do you not see that it is I who have all the work and the risk, for it is easy enough to get oxen, but not so easy to turn them into money. It is like the gunrunning business: you can get all the guns you want in Durban, but the real work only begins when you are running them through to the natives, and then you do not always get your money.”

“But, Andries, I thought you told me the Government paid you for the oxen.”

“So they do, indirectly. I sell to the speculators, and they sell at fancy prices to the British Government to feed the troops; so you see the money comes from them in the end.”

This was so different to what I had thought all along that I began to wonder whether I had not misunderstood everything.

“But do the British know that you are getting these cattle from them?”

“Sarel, you are young, and have a lot to learn. If a man asked you to teach him how you made money as a public prosecutor and saved fifty pounds a-month out of a salary of forty, could you do it in a minute? No, Sarel; everything worth knowing has to be learned slowly, bit by bit. I began to learn my trade during the Zulu war, but it did not last long enough to make me a master of the game. You know what an apprentice is; well, that is what you are to me, with the difference that other apprentices get no share of their masters’ profits, and you get a third share before you know half the trade.”

I could not answer this, for Andries had such a masterful way of saying “This is so,” that I always felt like a child when its father taught it. Still I was not satisfied, and my conscience began to tell me that I had given myself to Andries without sufficient thought, and that I truly knew little of the trade in which I had adventured, and was therefore bound either to follow it up with Andries as my master or go back to the Burghers, unable to give them anything either in guidance or money.

“Andries,” said I, “suppose something should happen to you before I got all my share of the money. Should I have to go to the British for it?”

Andries laughed much. “Nay, Sarel; you would have what you lawyers call a lien on the cattle. You would go to the Supreme Court at Maritzburg and sue me for breach of contract,”—and then he laughed again in a way that made me feel that he was so much the stronger that he did not hesitate to treat me as a child, and I wished I had old Paul with me that I might consult with him, for it is good to ask advice, even if you do not act upon it unless it agrees with your own opinion and inclination.

“Do you go back to the laager with me?” I asked.

“Nay, Sarel, I have other work to do. You must go back quickly, and tell them how you were captured by the lancers, who got back all the cattle. You will have time to make up a good story as you ride. And it must be good, Sarel, for you have got to keep their courage up. I shall want them again very soon, I hope.”

“But what shall I tell them about the money? They are certain to ask about that.”

“Sarel, you are as a child that needs its mother with it all the time. Have you no wisdom to learn to walk alone? Go back furious with the Burghers for running away and leaving you. Tell them that, being without their help, you and I only got a few cattle away, making only two pounds for each man. Then you can make a speech, saying that, though they do not deserve it, you will keep to the agreement, and share fairly the money you alone have earned, though they deserved to have nothing. You then go to the cart to get the money, and find instead this torn envelope. Call for Van der Murphy and the Coetzees, who will not be there, and leave the Burghers to guess what has become of the money. Now do you see why I chose men with bad characters to take care of the money? Sarel, when you know how to use him, a schelm is as good as an oprecht deacon of the Reformed Kerk.”

I did not like this plan at all. Andries might say I did not know human nature, but I knew Burgher nature, and I could see a mountain of trouble blocking my path, and even worse. Then I had to deal with old Paul. He would be very wrathful with me for trusting the money to Van der Murphy and the Cootzees instead of with him, and would side with the Burghers, and I should be undone. Altogether I was in great straits; but I did not like to let Andries think I was afraid, so I told him I thought his plan good, and that I would be off early in the morning.

We wrapped ourselves in our blankets, for it was cold so high up, and I tried to sleep; but between the coolness and my sad thoughts of the morrow I slept little, and was glad when the light came. I fastened the hundred sovereigns about me as Kafirs tie up money in their blankets, and after having some coffee, saddled up.

“Now, Sarel,” said Andries, “don’t be afraid of your Burghers. Be baas all through, and when you have had your way with them, come over to my place and tell me what you have done. By that time I shall be ready with my next plan.”

He gave me a Kafir to show me the way, and I left, very sad, and finding no consolation in the memory that lucky things had always come when wanted, to help me out of trouble; for it is only after the good chance has happened that a man recognises it and is thankful. When trouble again comes in front of him, he is just as fearful as ever, and so it was with me; for even if I could in faith see the way out, there was always present in my heart the memory of the nine hundred pounds that I had left behind.