A DESPERATE PROJECT
Scarcely had the band taken cover in the gorge than
the Boers appeared some five hundred yards away.
“Open fire at once!” Chris shouted, “the
farther they have to come under fire the less they
will like it.”
The rifles at once spoke out. The lads had all
used the boulders behind which they crouched as rests
for their rifles, and confident of their shooting
and their position, their aim was deadly. Five
or six of the leading Boers fell and several horses,
the rest came to an abrupt pause, galloped back some
little distance and then dismounted, and leaving their
horses in shelter, disappeared from sight. In
a short time a dropping fire was opened from both
sides of the valley.
“Don’t fire unless you see a man,”
Chris ordered, “there are gaps on the hillside
that they can’t pass without giving you a chance.
Fire in rotation, it is no use wasting a dozen bullets
on one man; if the first misses, let the next shoot
instantly, and so on. When they learn that it
is death to leave shelter, they will soon get sick
of it. Keep yourselves well under cover.”
The rifle duel continued for an hour. As Chris
had said would be the case, after seven or eight had
fallen, as they were trying to make rushes across
pieces of ground where boulders afforded no cover,
the rest became very cautious, and at last only an
occasional shot was heard.
“We will fall back now,” Chris said, “for
aught we know a party of them may be working round
somewhere to take us in rear. We know that they
have not got their horses with them, for we can see
the spot where they hid them. Still, we do not
want to be caught between two fires. Let four
on each flank crawl back; keep well among the rocks,
and don’t let them catch sight of you.
We will fire occasionally to let them know that we
are still here. When you have got the horses up
and everything is ready, whistle, and we will come
back to you. It will be a long time before they
venture to crawl up and discover that we have gone,
an hour most likely, and by that time the cattle will
be a dozen miles on their way to Estcourt, and the
Boers are not likely to follow them.”
Ten minutes later all were in their saddles.
They had left the horses at a spot where there was
a sharp elbow in the gorge, and their retreat could
not be seen from the valley below. They cantered
along in high glee; not one had received a scratch,
while some twelve of the first party of Boers had
fallen, and fully fifteen of the second, and it was
certain that at least as many more must have been wounded.
