CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESCUE.
Ronald, with Kreta and two of his men, now crept down to the very edgeof the bushes at a spot where they could command a view of the entranceto the hut. For a long time female figures came in and out, and it wasnot until long past midnight that they saw the last female figuredisappear inside and the skin drawn across the entrance.
"How long shall we give them, Kreta?"
"In an hour Kreta will go see," the chief said; "but better give twohours for all to be fast asleep."
In about an hour Ronald, who had been half lying on the ground with hishead on his hands, looked round and found that the chief had stolenaway. He sat up and watched the hut intently. The fires were burning lownow, although many of the Kaffirs were sitting round them; but there wasstill light enough for him, looking intently, to see a figure movingalong. Once or twice he fancied he saw a dark shadow on the ground closeto the hut, but he was not sure, and was still gazing intently whenthere was a touch on his shoulder, and, looking round, he saw the chiefbeside him.
"Two women watch," he said, "others all quiet. Give a little timelonger, to make sure that all are asleep, then we go on."
It seemed to Ronald fully two hours, although it was less than one,before Kreta again touched him.
"Time to go, incos," he said. "You go down with me to the hut, but notquite close. Kreta bring girl to you. You better not go. Kreta walk morequietly than white man. Noise spoil everything, get all of us killed."
Ronald gave his consent, though reluctantly, but he felt it was rightthat the Fingo, who was risking his life for his sake, should carry outhis plans in his own way. Kreta ordered one of his men to rejoin hiscompanions, and with the other advanced towards the village.
When within forty yards of the hut, he touched Ronald and whispered tohim to remain there. Then he and his companion lay down on the ground,and, without the slightest sound that Ronald could detect, disappearedin the darkness, while Ronald stood with his revolver in his hand,ready at any moment to spring forward and throw himself upon theKaffirs.
Mary Armstrong lay awake, with every faculty upon the stretch. Where thesuccour was to come from, or how, she could not imagine; but it wasevident, at least, that some white man was here, and was working forher. She listened intently to every sound, with her eyes wide open,staring at the two women, who were cooking mealies in the fire, andkeeping up a low, murmured talk. She had not even a hope that they wouldsleep. She knew that the natives constantly sit up talking and feastinguntil daylight is close at hand; and as they had extra motives forvigilance, she was sure that they would keep awake.
Suddenly, so suddenly that she scarcely knew what had happened, the twowomen disappeared from her sight. A hand had grasped each tightly by thethroat, another hand seized the hair, and, with a sharp jerk, pulled thehead on one side, breaking the neck in a moment--a common mode among theKaffirs of putting any one to death. The whole thing did not occupy amoment, and as the women disappeared from her sight, two natives rose totheir feet and looked round. Convinced that this was the succourpromised her, she sat up. One of the natives put his finger upon hislips to indicate the necessity of silence, and beckoned for her to riseand come to him. When she did so he wrapped her in a dark blanket andled her to the door. He pushed aside the hanging and went out.
Mary followed close behind him. He now put the blanket over her head andlifted her in his arms. A momentary dread seized her lest this might bean emissary of some other chief, who had sent him to carry off Macomo'snew captive, but the thought of the English words reassured her; and, atany rate, even if it were so, her position could not possibly be worsethan on the return of Macomo the next morning. She was carried a shortdistance, then she heard her bearer say in English: "Come along; I takeher a bit further. Too close to Kaffir still." She was carried on forsome distance. Then there was a stop, and she was placed on her feet;the blanket was removed from her head, and a moment later a dark figureseized her hand.
"Thank God, we have got you out, Miss Armstrong."
The revulsion of feeling at hearing her own tongue was so great that shewas not capable of speaking, and she would have fallen had she not beenclasped in the arms of the person who addressed her. Her surprise atfeeling that the arms that encircled her were bare, roused her.
"Who are you, sir?" she asked, trembling.
"I am Sergeant Blunt, Miss Armstrong. No wonder you did not know me. Iam got up in native fashion. You can trust yourself with me, you know."
"Oh, yes, yes," the girl sobbed. "I know I can, you saved my life oncebefore. How did you come here? And, oh, can you tell me any news aboutmy father?"
"He is hurt, Miss Armstrong, but I have every hope that he will recover.Now you must be strong, for we must be miles from here before morning.Can you walk?"
"Oh yes, I can walk any distance," the girl said. "Yesterday it seemedto me that I could not walk an inch further were it to save my life, andthey had to carry me the last mile or two, but now I feel strong enoughto walk miles."
"She can walk at present, chief," Ronald said, "let us go forward atonce."
They were now on the pathway leading down to the kraal. The chief tookthe lead, telling Mary Armstrong to take hold of his blanket and followclose behind him, while Ronald followed on her heels, the other Fingoeskeeping in the rear. The darkness beneath the trees was dense, and itwas some time before Ronald could make out even the outline of thefigures before him. Before approaching a kraal a halt was always made,and one of the Fingoes went on ahead to see if the fires were out andall natives inside their huts. Several times, although all the humanbeings were asleep, the scout returned, saying that they could not passthrough the kraal, for the dogs had scented him and growled fiercely,and would set up such a barking when the party passed as to bring allthe village out to see what was the matter.
Then long detours, that would have been difficult through the thick bushin daylight, but at night were almost impossible, had to be made. Eachtime that this had to be done, Kreta lifted Mary Armstrong and carriedher, and she had now become so exhausted that she was unable even toprotest. Ronald would have carried her himself, but he felt that itwould be worse than useless to attempt to do so. Though unencumbered, hehad the greatest difficulty in making his way through the bushes, whichscratched and tore his flesh terribly; but the chief seemed to bepossessed of the eyes of a bat, and glided through them, scarcely movinga twig as he passed. After going on for upwards of three hours, thechief stopped.
"It will be getting light soon. We must hide her now. Cannot get furtheruntil to-morrow night."
Although Ronald Mervyn, struggling along in the darkness, had notnoticed it, the party had for the last hour turned off from the linethey had before been following. They stopped by a little stream, runningdown the valley. Here a native refilled the gourds, and Mary Armstrongfelt better after a drink of water.
"I think," Ronald said to her, "that if you were to bathe your face andhands it would refresh you. There is a rock here just at the edge ofthe stream, I am sure your feet must be sore and blistered. It will behalf an hour before there is a gleam of light, and I should recommendyou to take off your shoes and stockings and paddle your feet in thewater."
"That would be refreshing," the girl said. "My feet are achingdreadfully. Now please tell me all that has happened, and how you cameto be here."
Sitting beside her, Ronald told her what had been done from the timewhen his party arrived and beat off the natives attacking the waggons.
"How can I thank you enough?" she said, when he had finished. "To thinkthat you have done all this for me."
"Never mind about thanks, Miss Armstrong; we are not out of the woodyet, our dangers are only half over, and if it were not that I trust tothe cunning of our good friend Kreta and his Fingoes I should have verylittle hope of getting out of this mess. I think it is just beginning toget light, for I can make out the outlines of the trunks of the trees,which is more than I could do before. I will go and ask
Kreta what he isgoing to do, and by the time I come back perhaps you had better get yourshoes on again, and be ready for a start. I don't suppose we shall gofar, but no doubt he will find some sort of hiding-place." Kreta, infact, was just giving instructions to his men.
"We are going out to find some good place to hide away in to-day," hesaid. "In the morning they search all about the woods. We must get intoshelter before it light enough for the men on hill tops to see downthrough trees. You stop here quiet. In half an hour we come back again.There is plenty time; they no find out yet that woman gone."
In a few minutes Mary Armstrong joined Ronald.
"How do you feel now?" he asked.
"All the fresher and better for the wash," she said; "but I really don'tthink I could walk very far, my feet are very much blistered. I don'tsee why they should be so bad; we have only gone about twenty-four mileseach day, and I always considered that I could walk twenty miles withoutdifficulty."
"It makes all the difference how you walk, Miss Armstrong. No doubt, ifyou had been in good spirits, and with a pleasant party, you could havewalked fifty miles in two days, although that is certainly a longdistance for a woman; but depressed and almost despairing, as you were,it told upon you generally, and doubtless you rather dragged your feetalong than walked."
"I don't want to think about it," the girl said, with a shudder. "Itseems to have been an awful dream. Some day I will tell you about it;but I cannot now."
"Here are some mealies and some cold meat. We each brought a week'ssupply with us when we left the waggons. I am sure that you will be allthe better for eating something."
"I do feel very hungry, now I think of it," the girl assented; "I havehardly eaten a mouthful since that morning."
"I am hungry myself," Ronald said "I was too anxious yesterday to dojustice to my food."
"I feel very much better now," the girl said when she had finished. "Ibelieve I was faint from want of food before, although I did not thinkof it. I am sure I could go on walking now. It was not the pain thatstopped me, but simply because I didn't feel as if I could lift my footfrom the ground. And there is one thing I want to say: I wish you wouldnot call me Miss Armstrong, it seems so formal and stiff, when you arerunning such terrible risks to save me. Please call me Mary, and I willcall you Harry. I think I heard you tell my father your name was HarryBlunt."
"That is the name I enlisted under, it is not my own name; men veryseldom enlist under their own names."
"Why not?" she asked in surprise.
"Partly, I suppose, because a good many of us get into scrapes before weenlist, and don't care for our friends to be able to trace us."
"I am sure you never got into a scrape," the girl said, looking up intoRonald's face.
"I got into a very bad scrape," Ronald answered, "a scrape that hasspoilt my whole life; but we will not talk about that. But I wouldrather, if you don't mind, that you should call me by my own name now weare together. If we get out of this I shall be Sergeant Blunt again, butI should like you to call me Ronald now."
"Ronald," the girl said, "that sounds Scottish."
"I am not Scotch, nor so far as I know is there any Scotch blood in myveins, but the name has been in the family a good many years; how it gotthere I do not know."
"I almost wish it was dark again," the girl said, with a little laugh;"in the dark you seem to me the Sergeant Blunt who came just in time tosave us that day the farm was attacked; but now I can see you I cannotrecognise you at all; even your eyes look quite different in that blackskin."
"I flatter myself that my get up is very good," Ronald laughed. "I havehad some difficulty in keeping up the colour. Each day before startingwe have gone to our fires and got fresh charcoal and mixed it with somegrease we brought with us and rubbed it in afresh."
"Your hair is your weak point, Ronald; but, of course, no European couldmake his hair like a native's. Still, as it is cut so close, it wouldnot be noticed a little way off."
Two or three of the Fingoes had by this time returned, and in a fewminutes all had gathered at the spot. Kreta listened to the reports ofeach of his men, and they held a short consultation. Then he came up toRonald.
"One of my men has found a place that will do well," he said. "It istime we were going."
One of the Fingoes now took the lead; the others followed. A quarter ofan hour's walk up the hill, which grew steeper and steeper every step,brought them to a spot where some masses of rock had fallen from above.They were half covered with the thick growth of brushwood. The nativepushed one of the bushes aside, and showed a sort of cave formed by agreat slab of rock that had fallen over the others. Kreta uttered anexpression of approval. Two of the natives crept in with their assegaisin their hands. In two or three minutes one of them returned with thebodies of two puff adders they had killed. These were dropped in amongsome rocks.
"You can go in now," Kreta said. "There are no more of them."
Ronald crawled in first, and helped Mary Armstrong in after him; thenatives followed. Kreta came in last, carefully examining the bushbefore he did so, to see that no twig was broken or disarranged. Hemanaged as he entered to place two or three rocks over the entrance.
"Good place," he said, looking round as he joined the others. It wasindeed of ample size to contain the party, and was some four feet inheight. Light came in in several places between the rocks on which theupper slab rested.
"It could not be better, Kreta, even if it had been made on purpose. Itwas lucky indeed your fellow found it."
"We found two or three others," the chief said, "but this best."
"It is lucky those men came in first and found the snakes," MaryArmstrong said, "for we have not got here the stuff we always use in thecolony as an antidote, and their bite is almost always fatal unless thatcan be used in time." Ronald was aware of this, and had, indeed, duringthe night's march, had snakes constantly in his mind, for he knew thatthey abounded in the hills.
One of the Fingoes had taken his station at the entrance, having movedone of the stones the chief had placed there, so that he could sit withhis head out of the opening. Half an hour after they had entered thecave he turned round and spoke to the chief.
"The Kaffirs are hunting," Kreta said. Listening at the opening theycould hear distant shouts. These were answered from many points, some ofthem comparatively close.
"The news is being passed from kraal to kraal," Ronald said; "they willbe up like a swarm of bees now, but search as they will they are notlikely to find us here. Do you think they will trace us at all, chief?"
"They will find where we stopped close to kraal," Kreta said; "the deadleaves were stirred by our feet; after that not find, too many peoplegone along path; ground very hard; may find, sometime, mark of the whitewoman's shoe; but we leave path many times, and after I carry no find atall. Mountains very big, much bush; never find here."
The chief now told his follower to replace the stone and join theothers, and ordered all to be silent. Sitting with his ear at one of theopenings he listened to the sounds in the woods; once or twice hewhispered that Kaffirs were passing close, searching among the bushes;and one party came so near that their words could be plainly heard inthe cave. They were discussing the manner in which the fugitive hadescaped, and were unanimous in the belief that she had been carried offby the followers of some other chief, for that an enemy should havepenetrated into the heart of the Amatolas did not strike them aspossible.
The argument was only as to which of the other chiefs would haveventured to rob Macomo, and the opinion inclined to the fact that itmust have been Sandilli himself, who would doubtless have heard, fromthe messenger sent over on the previous afternoon to inform Macomo, ofthe return of the band with a pretty young white woman as a captive.Macomo had of course been drunk, and Sandilli might have determined tohave the prize carried off for himself.
Mary Armstrong shuddered as she listened to the talk, but when they hadgone on Kreta said:
"Good thing the Kaffirs have that
thought, not search so much here.Search in Sandilli's country. Perhaps make great quarrel between Macomoand Sandilli. Good thing that."
As the day went on the spirits of the Fingoes rose, and in low tonesthey expressed their delight at having outwitted the Kaffirs.
No footsteps had been heard in their neighbourhood for some time, andthey felt sure that the search had been abandoned in that quarter.Towards sunset all ate a hearty meal, and as soon as it became dark thestones at the entrance were removed and the party crept out. MaryArmstrong had slept the greater part of the day, and Ronald and theFingoes had also passed a portion of their time in sleep. They started,therefore, refreshed and strong.
It took them many hours of patient work before they arrived at the edgeof the forest on the last swell of the Amatolas. They had been obligedto make many detours to avoid kraals, and to surmount the precipicesthat often barred their way. They had started about eight in theevening, and it was, as they knew from the stars, fully three o'clockin the morning when they emerged from the forest.
Mary Armstrong had kept on well with the rest; her feet were extremelypainful, but she was now strong and hopeful, and no word of complaintescaped her. Ronald and the chief kept by her side, helping her up ordown difficult places, and assisting her to pass through the thornybushes, which caught her dress, and would have rendered it almostimpossible for her to get through unaided. Once out of the bush, theparty hurried down the grassy slope, and then kept on a mile further.The chief now gave a loud call. It was answered faintly from thedistance; in five minutes the sound of a horse's hoofs were heard, andin a short time the Fingo who had been left in charge of it, galloped upwith Ronald's horse. Mary Armstrong was sitting on the ground, for shewas now so utterly exhausted she could no longer keep her feet, and had,since they left the bush, been supported and half carried by Ronald andKreta. She made an effort to rise as the horse came up.
"Please wait a moment; I will not be above two minutes," Ronald said;"but I really cannot ride into Williamstown like this."
He unstrapped his valise, took the jack-boots that were hanging from thesaddle, and moved away in the darkness. In two or three minutes hereturned in his uniform.
"I feel a civilised being again," he said, laughing; "a handful of sandat the first stream we come to will get most of this black off my face.I have left my blanket as a legacy to any Kaffir who may light upon it.Now I will shift the saddle a few inches further back. I think you hadbetter ride before me, for you are completely worn out, and I can holdyou there better than you could hold yourself if you were to sit behindme." He strapped on his valise, shifted his saddle, lifted Mary up, andsprang up behind her.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
"Quite comfortable," she said, a little shyly, and then they started.The light was just beginning to break in the east as they rode out fromthe clump of trees. They were not out of danger yet, for parties ofKaffirs might be met with at any time until they arrived within musketshot of King Williamstown. The Fingoes ran at a pace that kept the horseat a sharp trot. It was very pleasant to Ronald Mervyn to feel MaryArmstrong in his arms, and to know, as he did, how safe and confidentshe felt there; but he did not press her more closely than was necessaryto enable her to retain her seat, or permit himself to speak in a softeror tenderer tone than usual.
"If we should come across any of these scoundrels, Mary," he said,presently, "do you take the reins. Do you think you can sit steadywithout my holding you firmly?"
"Yes," the girl said, "if I put one foot on yours I could certainly holdon. I could twist one of my hands in the horse's mane."
"Can you use a pistol?"
"Of course I can," she replied. "I was as good a shot as my father."
"That is all right, then. I will give you one of my pistols; then I canhold you with my right arm, for the horse may plunge if a spear strikeshim. I will use my pistol in my left hand. I will see that no onecatches the bridle on that side; do you attend to the right. I hope itwon't come to that, still there's never any saying, and we shall haveone or two nasty places to pass through on our way down. We have theadvantage that should there be any Kaffirs there they will not bekeeping a watch this way, and we may hope to get pretty well throughthem before they see us."
"Will you promise me one thing, Ronald?" she asked. "Will you shoot meif you find that we cannot get past?"
Ronald nodded.
"I am not at all afraid of death," she said; "death would be nothing tothat. I would rather die a thousand times than fall into the hands ofthe Kaffirs again."
"I promise you, Mary, my last shot but one shall be for you, my last formyself; but if I am struck off the horse by a bullet or assegai you musttrust to your own pistol."
"I will do that, Ronald; I have been perfectly happy since you took meout of the hut, and have not seemed to feel any fear of beingrecaptured, for I felt that if they overtook us I could always escapeso. On the way there, if I could have got hold of an assegai I shouldhave stabbed myself."
"Thank God you didn't," said Ronald, earnestly, "though I could not haveblamed you."
They paused at the entrance to each kloof through which they had topass, and the Fingoes went cautiously ahead searching through thebushes. It was not until he heard their call on the other side thatRonald galloped after them.
"I begin to hope that we shall get through now," Ronald said, afteremerging from one of these kloofs; "we have only one more bad place topass, but, of course, the danger is greatest there, as from that theKaffirs will probably be watching against any advance of the troops fromthe town."
The Fingoes were evidently of the same opinion, for as they approachedit Kreta stopped to speak to Ronald.
"Kaffir sure to be here," he said, "but me and my men can creep through;but we must not call to you, incos; the Kaffirs would hear us and be onthe watch. Safest plan for us to go through first, not go along paths,but through bush; then for you to gallop straight through; even if theyclose to path, you get past before they time to stop you. I think thatbest way."
"I think so too, Kreta. If they hear the horse's hoofs coming frombehind they will suppose it is a mounted messenger from the hills.Anyhow, I think that a dash for it is our best chance."
"I think so, incos. I think you get through safe if go fast."
"How long will you be getting through, Kreta?"
"Quarter of an hour," the chief said; "must go slow. Your ride four,five minutes."
Kreta stood thoughtfully for a minute or two.
"Me don't like it, incos. Me tell you what we do. We keep over to left,and then when we get just through the bush we fire our guns. Then theKaffirs very much surprised and all run that way, and you ride straightthrough."
"But they might overtake you, Kreta."
"They no overtake," the chief said, confidently. "We run fast and getgood start. Williamstown only one hour's walk; run less than half hour.They no catch us."
When the Fingoes had been gone about ten minutes, Ronald, assured thatthe Kaffirs would be gathered at the far side of the kloof, went forwardat a walk. Presently he heard six shots fired in rapid succession. Thiswas followed by an outburst of yells and cries in front, and he setspurs to his horse and dashed forward at a gallop. He was nearly throughthe kloof when a body of Kaffirs, who were running through the wood fromthe right, burst suddenly from the bushes into the path. So astonishedwere they at seeing a white man within a few yards of them that for amoment they did not think of using their weapons, and Ronald dashedthrough them, scattering them to right and left. But others sprang fromthe bushes. Ronald shot down two men who sprang at the horse's bridle,and he heard Mary Armstrong's pistol on the other side. He had drawn hissword before setting off at a gallop. "Hold tight, Mary," he said, as herelaxed his hold of her and cut down a native who was springing upon himfrom the bushes. Another fell from a bullet from her pistol, and then hewas through them. "Stoop down, Mary," he said, pressing her forward onthe horse's neck and bending down over her. He felt his horse give asudden s
pring, and knew that it was hit with an assegai; while almost atthe same instant he felt a sensation as of a hot iron running from hisbelt to his shoulder, as a spear ripped up cloth and flesh and thenglanced along over him.
A moment later and they were out of the kloof, and riding at full speedacross the open. Looking over his shoulder he saw that the Kaffirs gaveup pursuit after following for a hundred yards. Over on the left heheard dropping shots, and presently caught a glimpse in that directionof the Fingoes running in a close body, pursued at the distance of ahundred yards or so by a large number of Kaffirs. But others had heardthe sound of firing, for in a minute or two he saw a body of horsemenriding at full speed from Williamstown in the direction of the firing.He at once checked the speed of his horse.
"We are safe now, Mary; that is a troop of our corps. Are you hit?"
"No, I am not touched. Are you hurt, Ronald? I thought I felt youstart."
"I have got a bit of a scratch on the back, but it's nothing serious. Iwill get off in a moment, Mary; the horse has an assegai in hisquarters, and I must get it out."
"Take me down, too, please; I feel giddy now it is all over."
Ronald lifted her down, and then pulled the assegai from the horse'sback.
"I don't think much harm is done," he said; "a fortnight in the stableand he will be all right again."
"You are bleeding dreadfully," the girl exclaimed, as she caught sightof his back. "It's a terrible wound to look at."
"Then it looks worse than it is," he laughed. "The spear only glancedalong on the ribs. It's lucky I was stooping so much. After goingthrough what we have we may think ourselves well off indeed that we haveescaped with such a scratch as this between us."
"It's not a scratch at all," the girl said, indignantly; "it's a verydeep bad cut."
"Perhaps it is a bad cut," Ronald smiled, "but a cut is of noconsequence one way or the other. Now let us join the others. Ah, herethey come, with Kreta showing them the way."
The troopers had chased the Kaffirs back to the bush, and, led by theFingo, were now coming up at a gallop to the spot where Ronald and MaryArmstrong were standing by the horse.
"Ah, it is you, sergeant," Lieutenant Daniels exclaimed, for it was aportion of Ronald's own troop that had ridden up. "I never expected tosee you again, for we heard the day before yesterday from the officerwho came in with the ammunition waggons that you had gone off to try torescue three ladies who had been carried off by the Kaffirs. It was amad business, but you have partly succeeded, I am glad to see," and helifted his cap to Mary Armstrong.
"Partly, sir," Ronald said. "The wretches killed the other two the daythey carried them off. This is Miss Armstrong. I think you stopped ather father's house one day when we were out on the Kabousie."
"Yes, of course," the lieutenant said, alighting. "Excuse me for notrecognising you, Miss Armstrong; but, in fact----"
"In fact, I look very pale, and ragged, and tattered."
"I am not surprised at that, Miss Armstrong. You must have gone througha terrible time, and I heartily congratulate Sergeant Blunt on thesuccess of his gallant attempt to rescue you."
"Have you heard from my father? How is he?"
"Your father, Miss Armstrong! I have heard nothing about him since Iheard from Sergeant Blunt that you had all got safely away after thatattack."
"He was in the waggon, sir," Ronald explained; "he was hurt in the fightwith the Kaffirs, and Mr. Nolan brought him back in the waggons."
"Oh, I heard he had brought a wounded man with him; but I did not hearthe name. Nolan said he had been badly wounded, but the surgeon told mehe thought he might get round. I have no doubt that the sight of MissArmstrong will do him good."
"Perhaps, sir," Ronald said, faintly, "you will let one of the troopride on with Miss Armstrong at once. I think I must wait for a bit."
"Why, what is it, sergeant?" the lieutenant asked, catching him by thearm, for he saw that he was on the point of falling. "You are wounded, Isee; and here am I talking about other things and not thinking of you."
Two of the troop leapt from their horses and laid Ronald down, for hehad fainted, overcome partly by the pain and loss of blood, but more bythe sudden termination of the heavy strain of the last four days.
"It is only a flesh wound, Miss Armstrong. There is no occasion forfear. He has fainted from loss of blood, and I have no doubt but he willsoon be all right again. Johnson, hand your horse over to MissArmstrong, and do you, Williams, ride over with her to the hospital. Wewill have Sergeant Blunt in the hospital half an hour after you getthere, Miss Armstrong."
"It seems very unkind to leave him," the girl said, "after all he hasdone for me."
"He will understand it, my dear young lady, and you can see him in thehospital directly you get there."
Mary reluctantly allowed herself to be lifted into the saddle, and rodeoff with the trooper.
"Now take his jacket and shirt off," the lieutenant said, "it's a nastyrip that he has got. I suppose he was leaning forward in the saddle whenthe spear touched him. It's lucky it glanced up instead of going throughhim."
The soldiers removed Ronald's coat. There was no shirt underneath, forhe had not waited to put one on when he mounted. The troopers had heardfrom their comrades, on the return of the escort, that the sergeant had,before starting, got himself up as a native; and they were not thereforesurprised, as they otherwise would have been, at his black skin.
"Put your hand into the left holster of my saddle," the lieutenant said."You will find two or three bandages and some lint there; they arethings that come in handy for this work. Lay the lint in the gash.That's right. Press it down a little, and put some more in. Now lift himup a bit, while I pass these bandages round his body. There; I think hewill do now; but there's no doubt it is a nasty wound. It has cut rightthrough the muscles of the back. Now turn him over, and give me my flaskfrom the holster."
Some brandy and water was poured between Ronald's lips, and he soonopened his eyes.
"Don't move, sergeant, or you will set your wound off bleeding again. Wewill soon get you comfortably into hospital. Ah, that is the very thing;good men," he broke off, as Kreta and the Fingoes brought up a litterwhich they had been busy in constructing. "Miss Armstrong has ridden onto the hospital to see her father. She wanted to stop, but I sent heron, so that we could bandage you comfortably."
"I think I can sit a horse now," Ronald said, trying to rise.
"I don't know whether you can or not, sergeant; but you are not going totry. Now, lads, lift him on to the litter."
Kreta and the two troopers lifted him carefully on to the litter; thenfour of the Fingoes raised it to their shoulders. Another took Ronald'shorse, which now limped stiffly, and led it along behind the litter; andwith the troop bringing up the rear, the party started for KingWilliamstown.