Part 53 (1/2)
”Not a word, not a sound,” she commanded, ”remove your boots--you have never been in greater peril.”
”Hus.h.!.+ What was that? A man's voice outside! The sergeant-major? The police? My G.o.d! then we are lost indeed!”
But no! Only one moment of agonising suspense and the familiar voice of ”Gentleman Jim” could be heard, reprimanding the growling watchdog.
”What for you make so much noise, Carlo? Go to sleep, bad dog--you frighten everybody when you kick up so much row.”
Muttering discontentedly, he retired to his room, evidently rea.s.sured by the dead silence which pervaded the house.
For some time the four people inside stood close together without a word. No lights were lit, no sound whatever made until Carlo's restless growlings ceased and he had settled himself to sleep again.
Then only were a few whispered words of welcome and greeting exchanged and a breathless account given of the dangers with which Harmony was surrounded.
”How did you come in?” Mrs. van Warmelo asked.
”Through the drift,” Naude replied. ”There were no guards--in fact, we did not see a soul from first to last, and the dog was the only one to object to our midnight wanderings. We were nearly on top of him before he woke.”
Nearly on top of the sensitive and alert watchdog before he became aware of their proximity! No wonder, then, that the Boer spies frequently glided up so close to the English outposts that they were able to knock them down with a wooden stick or the b.u.t.t end of a gun before they could give the alarm or utter a sound!
The men were tired and exhausted, and gladly stretched themselves on the beds to get what sleep they could before morning, having first divested themselves of their outward trappings, helmets, etc., which they buried under the floor. As before, the Captain came in a khaki uniform, while his orderly, Venter, was dressed like a soldier.
As it was necessary for them to remain in Mrs. van Warmelo's bedroom in order to be near their place of refuge under the floor, mother and daughter retired to the dining-room, there to watch and wait for the dawn of day.
Would the long night _never_ end?
Every time Carlo barked the two women started up from their couches and listened with straining ears for sounds of commotion outside--but in vain. Nothing disturbed the serenity of the night, and when the rosy glow of dawn broke in the eastern sky and gradually spread its glory over the hushed and expectant earth, Hansie fell into a fitful slumber.
Not so her mother. Mrs. van Warmelo had been quietly pondering over ”Gentleman Jim's” unexpected appearance at the first sign of commotion in the night and had come to the conclusion that something should be done to disarm his suspicions.
That the guard of Military Police had been withdrawn from Harmony was very evident, but it was quite possible that the task of maintaining a vigilant watch had been transferred to Jim, with promises of a liberal payment if he succeeded in getting information which might lead to the arrest of Boer spies.
Mrs. van Warmelo therefore cautiously rose, while the rest of the household lay in sleep, plucked cl.u.s.ters of grapes from the vines and strewed them about the garden paths. The ruse answered excellently.
”Gentleman Jim” himself discovered the grapes lying about the garden and was loud in his expressions of indignation.
”Them thieves have been at the grapes again,” he called out.
”Look here, missis, here is a bunch--and another, and here is some more.” He shook his head in despair.
The sergeant-major too was sent for and informed of the plundering that had been carried on in the small hours of the morning.
”What is to be done?” he asked. ”Shall I put a guard here again?”
Mrs. van Warmelo thanked him for his kind offer, but thought that very little damage had been done, and was of opinion that Carlo's vigilance would be sufficient to prevent the thieves, whoever they might be, from returning on a second pilfering expedition.
When Hansie woke it was past six o'clock, and the Captain was sitting near her, drinking coffee and chatting with her mother in a matter-of-fact way, evidently quite at home and glad to find himself in such comfortable quarters again.
The whole of that eventful February 10th was spent in writing dispatches and procuring articles of clothing and small necessaries for the men to take out with them; three pairs of riding-breeches, s.h.i.+rts, brown felt hats, leggings, boots, soap, salt, cotton, etc., etc.
Fortunately, among the few remaining men in town who could be trusted to carry out these commissions was the young man behind the counter in _the_ store in Church Street.