'Tween Snow and Fire: A Tale of the Last Kafir War

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  THE TABLES TURNED AGAIN.

  Suddenly a tremendous volley crashed forth from the hillside on theirleft front, followed immediately by another on the right. For a momentthe men looked at each other in silence, and the expression of gloomydetermination hitherto depicted on their countenances gave way to one ofanimated and half-incredulous relief.

  For no sound of hostile volley was that. No. Help was at hand.Already they could see the Kafirs gliding from bush to bush in groups,hastening to make good their retreat, thoroughly disconcerted by thisnew and disastrous surprise.

  "Whoop!--Hooray! Yoicks forward!" shouted the beleaguered combatants,each man giving his particular form of cheer, varying from savagewar-cry to view halloo. They were wild with excitement, not only byreason of their unlooked for deliverance from almost certain massacre,but also on account of being in a position to turn the tables upon theirskulking foe.

  Then came the crack--crack--crack--of the rifles of the new arrivals,who advanced rapidly, yet not entirely without caution, through thebush, picking off the retreating Kafirs as these showed themselves infleeing from cover to cover. And above the crackle of the droppingshots rang out the wild notes of a bugle, villainously played. A roarof laughter went up from our friends.

  "Brathwaite's Horse for a fiver!" cried Hoste. "That's Jack Armitage'spost-horn. I know its infamous old bray--And--there's Brathwaitehimself."

  "Any of you fellows hurt?" sung out the latter, a fine, stalwartfrontiersman, who, with several of his men, rode down upon the group.The remainder were spread out in skirmishing line on either side, theirregular rattle of their fire showing that they were still busypeppering the enemy in sight.

  "One man killed," answered Shelton. "It's Parr, poor chap."

  "So? Well, fall in with us and come on. We haven't done with JackKafir yet."

  "Can't. We're all but cleaned out of ammunition."

  "So?" said Brathwaite again. "We've turned up none too soon then.Fortunately we've got plenty."

  A hurried levy was made upon the cartridge belts of the new arrivals,and thus reinforced in every sense of the word, the Kaffrarian men, keento avenge their comrade and retrieve their position, fell in with theirrescuers, and the whole force moved rapidly forward in pursuit of theenemy.

  But the latter had hastened to make himself scarce. With characteristiccelerity, the wily savages seemed to have melted into earth or air. Ifthirty-five whites--a mere handful--had given them about as muchfighting as they could stomach, they were not going to stand againstthat handful multiplied by three.

  "There they go!" suddenly shouted someone, pointing to the almost barebrow of a hill about half a mile away, over which a number of Kafirswere swarming in full retreat. A tremendous fusillade was opened uponthis point, but with slight effect. The distance was too great.

  "We must get the cattle," cried Brathwaite, Shelton having hurriedlygiven him the particulars. "And we must race for them, too, for they'llhave got a good start. They are sure to take them right away to thatbig bit of forest which runs down to the coast. Once there they aresafe as far as we are concerned. I know this strip of country."

  Armitage, the man who owned the bugle, and who was known to most therepresent either personally or by name, as a licenced wag and anincorrigible practical joker, was instructed to blow a call of assembly.This he did, in hideous and discordant fashion, and the men collected.Briefly Brathwaite explained the situation.

  "Beyond this first rise there's another," he said. "Beyond, thatthere's five miles of open _veldt_; then the strip of forest I wasmentioning. If we don't get the cattle in the open we shan't get themat all. Forward!"

  No second command was needed. The whole force pressed eagerly forward.At length, after a toilsome ride, during which not an enemy was seen,except here and there the body of a dead one lying in a pool of blood,they crested the brow of the second ridge. A great shout arose.

  "There they are! Now then, boys--cut 'em out!"

  Away in front, about five miles distant, lay a long, dark line offorest. Half-way between this and themselves an immense herd of cattlewas streaming across the _veldt_. The drivers, about two score innumber, were at first seen to redouble their efforts to urge on theanimals. Then, at sight of the white horsemen bearing down upon themwith a wild cheer, they incontinently abandoned their charge and fledfor dear life.

  "Never mind the niggers," sang out Brathwaite, as one or two of his mentried to rein in for a snap shot at the flying Kafirs. "Never mindthem. Head the cattle round for all you know. If once they get intothe bush we may lose any number of them." And spurring into a gallop hecircled round before the excited herd, followed by his whole troop. Theforemost beasts stopped short, throwing up their heads with many a snortand bellow of bewilderment and terror, while the bulk of the herdpressed on. For some minutes the clashing of horns and frenziedbellowing, the clouds of dust, and the excited shouts of the horsemenmade up an indescribable scene of din and confusion. Many of theanimals, rolled on the ground by the plunging, swaying mass, weretrampled or gored to death by their bewildered companions. At last thetumultuous excitement began to subside, and the animals, with heavingflanks and rolling eyes, stood huddled together as if awaiting thepleasure of their new drivers.

  "Steady! Don't rush them," shouted Brathwaite. "Head them away quietlyfor the open for all you know, and don't let them break through."

  More than one comical scene was enacted as the line of horsemen,extended so as to gradually work the herd away from the bush, drovetheir charge forward. Now and then a cow, with a calf at her side, orhaply missing her progeny, would turn and furiously charge the line ofhorsemen, causing an abrupt scatter, and in one or two instances theutter and ignominious flight of the doughty warrior singled out, whoperchance was only too thankful to lay her out with a revolver shot inthe nick of time to save himself and his steed, or both, from beingripped up or impaled by those vicious horns. But the best fun of allwas afforded by a huge old black-and-white bull.

  Jack Armitage, we have said, was bursting with animal spirits;consequently when the aforesaid quadruped took it into his massivecranium to suddenly break away from the herd and start off on his ownaccount at right angles thereto, it followed, as a matter of course,that Armitage, being nearest to him, should spur away in pursuit. Thebull's vicious little eyes began to roll wickedly, and from a trot hebroke into a wild gallop. Then madcap Jack, madder than ever with theexcitement of the day's events, was seen to range his horse alongside,and bending over in the saddle and placing his bugle almost against theanimal's ear he blew a hideous and terrific blast. There was aferocious bellow--down went the brute's head, and, lo, in a twinklinghorse and man were rolling on the ground, and the bull galloped awayunimpeded.

  Roars of laughter arose from the discomfited one's comrades, which didnot decrease as they watched the savage brute in the distance chargingone of the retreating Kafirs, who seemed almost as much disconcerted bythis new enemy as he had been by the missiles of his human foes.Finally both disappeared within the bush.

  "Hurt, old man?" cried Hoste, riding up as the fallen one found his feetagain, and stood rubbing his shoulder and looking rather dazed with theshock. The horse had already struggled up. Fortunately for it, thebull's horns were short and blunt, and it seemed none the worse for thetumble.

  "No. Had a devil of a shake-up, though. A bottle of doctor's stuff's afool to it."

  "Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast--sings the poet. In thiscase it hadn't," said Eustace. "Those ancients must have been awfulliars. Eh, Armitage?"

  "You bet. Hallo! Where's my old post-horn?" he went on, looking roundfor his instrument, which he discovered about a dozen yards off,unharmed, save for a slight dent. Putting it to his lips he blew afrightful fanfare.

  "I say, Jack, you'll have the old bull back again," said Brathwaite."Better shut up. He's dead nuts on that old trumpet of yours. And now,the farther we get into t
he open, the better. We mustn't camp anywherethat'll give Johnny Kafir a chance of cutting out the cattle again."

  "We've done a good day's work, anyhow," said Shelton. "This isn't halfa bad haul--and it's fairly decent stock for Kafir stock."

  "Kafir stock be damned!" growled Carhayes. "Whatever is decent among itis stolen stock, you bet. Not much sleep for any of us to-night, boys.We shall mostly all have to keep our eyes skinned, if we are to take inthis lot safe. Whoever of us are not on horse guard will be on cattleguard."

  They were joined by the few men who had remained behind to guard thecorpse of their slain comrade. This was conveyed in a sort of litter,improvised of blankets and slung between two quiet horses; and now tothe dash and excitement of the conflict and pursuit, there succeeded asubdued quiet, almost a gloom, by reason of the presence of the dead manin their midst. Still--it was the fortune of war.