Part 34 (1/2)

”You got to try now, then, by G.o.d! Our only chance. Look!”

John Ames did look, and so did the other man. At the upper end of the fence a ma.s.s of savages were in possession, pouring a volley after the retreating troop. Below on their right the three men saw the other outflanking ”horn” now closing in upon them, and a line of warriors coming through the gra.s.s and thorns in front at a trot. It was a strong impi, and a large one.

In that brief flash of time, John Ames was curiously alive to detail.

He could see the ostrich-feather mutyas worn by the warriors, the parti-coloured s.h.i.+elds and the gleam of spears, and decided this was a crack regiment. He could see, too, the towns.h.i.+p of Bulawayo lying in its basin below, and the retreating hors.e.m.e.n now already far away. He noted the look of fear on the face of the trooper, and that of desperate resolve in the keen eyes of the American.

”Now for it!” he cried. ”Put your horses at it here. I'll give you a lead.”

A wire fence is a trying thing to jump, with an uncertain steed. To his surprise, John Ames lighted in safety on the other side. Not so Shackleton. His horse's hoofs caught the top wire, and turning a complete somersault, threw its rider heavily, but on the right side of the fence, while that of the trooper refused point-blank and trotted off, snorting idiotically, right down the fence into the very teeth of the advancing enemy.

John Ames turned, then rode back.

”Get up, Major, for Heaven's sake!”

Shackleton had already been on his feet, but subsided again with a groan.

”Can't. Ankle gone. Guess my time's here--right here,” he panted.

”You go on.”

”We don't do things that way, d.a.m.n it!” John Ames answered, in his strong excitement. ”Here, get up on my horse.”

He had dismounted. Shackleton's fool of an animal had already recovered itself and made itself scarce. The advancing impi was barely three hundred yards distant, pouring onward, s.h.i.+vering the air with its deep vibrating ”Jji-jji!”

”You go on!” repeated the American. ”I won't be taken alive.”

John Ames _said_ no more. He _did_. Shackleton, fortunately, was rather a small man, and light. The other seized him under the shoulders, and by dint of half lifting, half pus.h.i.+ng, got him bodily into the saddle.

”Now go!” he shouted. ”I'll hold on the stirrup.”

All this had taken something under a minute.

They went. The impi was now pouring through the fence, whose momentary obstruction almost made a difference of life or death to the fugitives.

How they escaped John Ames never knew. Sky, earth, the distant towns.h.i.+p beneath, all whirled round and round before him. Twice he nearly lost hold of the stirrup-leather and would have fallen; then at last became aware of slackening pace. Turning, dizzy and exhausted, he saw that the enemy had abandoned pursuit.

And what of the unfortunate trooper? Not much, and that soon over, luckily. Abandoning his mount, he made a rush for the fence, but too late. A very hail of a.s.segais was showered upon him, and he fell, half in, half out, across the wire. With a roar of exultation the savages were around him. a.s.segais gleamed in the air, first bright, then red, and in a second nothing was left but a shapeless and mangled ma.s.s.

Such tragedies, however, come but under the simple word ”losses,” and these, all things considered, had not been great. On the other hand, the enemy had suffered severely, and if, by sheer force of overwhelming numbers, he had succeeded in driving them back, those forming the reconnaissance were not disposed to feel it acutely. They were quite ready to go in at him another day, and thus make things even.

But Shackleton, otherwise ”The Major,” was not going to let the thing down so easily. His sprained ankle kept him tied by the leg for some days, but on the subject of the fight and the retreat he became somewhat of a bore. On the subject of John Ames he became even more of one. He was never tired of extolling that worthy's readiness and nerve, and his self-devotion in risking his life to save a comrade.

”You British have got a little iron notion,” he would say, ”a thing you call a Victoria Cross, I reckon. Well, when you going to get it for John Ames? He boosted me on to his broncho like a sack right away, and run afoot himself. But for him where'd I be now? Cut into bully beef by those treacherous savages. Yes, sir.”

But as these incisive utterances were invariably accompanied by an invitation to liquor, there were some who were not above drawing. The Major upon his favourite topic. To most, however, he became a bore, but to none so much as the subject thereof. Said the latter one day--

”Do you know, Major, I begin to wish I had left you where you were.

It's a fact that you're making a perfect fool of me, and I wish you'd drop it.”