ir ponies
towards the entrance to the garden.

"Get your magazines ready!" whispered Jack. "We scarcely hoped for such
luck. Wait till they reach the opening, and then fire into them as fast
as you can."

His companions obeyed him silently, and then waited grimly for the word
which would send a death-dealing stream of lead into the Boers.

It seemed an hour before it was given, but Jack was not the lad to be
flurried, or to allow excitement to get the better of his judgment. He
waited calmly till some of the enemy had ridden through the opening,
while the remainder were in a close body outside.

Then he shouted, "Fire!" and instantly the four rifles spoke out,
spouting forth a continuous stream of bullets and angry puffs of flame.
Then they stopped as suddenly, as the magazines emptied.

"Now volley-firing!" shouted Jack; and each, slipping in a cartridge,
waited till he gave the word. Four times in rapid succession they
emptied their rifles, but on the last occasion only into flying men, for
the Boer slimness had for once been dormant, and neglect of ordinary
precautions had led them into a trap which proved a bitter lesson to
them. At such close quarters, and grouped together as they were, the
long Lee-Metford bullets, with their tremendous velocity and penetrating
power, had drilled through and through the mass, and had almost
annihilated the band. Had a Maxim been turned upon them for a minute
the slaughter could scarcely have been greater, and as it was, a pile of
dead and wounded Boers blocked the entrance to the homely English
flower-garden, while injured ponies struggled and lashed out madly with
their heels, adding to the ghastly picture.

It had been a sudden and terrible blow, and those of the enemy who yet
lived turned their animals, and, extricating themselves from the heap of
fallen comrades, galloped madly away in the desperate desire to escape
from the murderous rifles of the few dauntless "Rooineks" whom they had
hoped to find dead and mangled beneath the ruins of the farmhouse.

"That will teach them something, my lads!" exclaimed Frank Russel
hoarsely. "It's awful to have to kill so many of them, but it's their
lives or ours, and besides, we've a glorious cause to fight for."

"It is truly awful," murmured Eileen, sitting down on the floor and
suddenly turning deadly pale. "Oh, I cannot bear to hear their groans!"

"She's done up, and no wonder, poor girl!" cried Frank. "Slip below,