return a contemptuous reply to the demands made from time to time for
his surrender.

The first time this demand was made was when the enemy had him in front
and rear. The envoys who came informed him that his position was
perfectly hopeless, for he could not cross the river in face of the
strong body the Boers had lining the banks; and that they had him in
front, and if his people did not give up their arms they would be shot
down to a man.

The colonel's answer to this was, "Very well, gentlemen; shoot away."

His officers were present, and Drew Lennox and Bob Dickenson exchanged
glances at the word "gentlemen," for the embassy looked like anything
but that; and they departed in an insolent, braggart way, and very soon
after began to shoot, using up a great many cartridges, but doing very
little harm. Then, growing weary, they gave up, and the colonel set one
part of his men to work with the spade till dark, making rifle-pit and
trench; while as soon as it was dark he despatched fully half of his
force to occupy the precipitous mound at the back of the village, making
a natural stronghold which he intended to connect with the camp by means
of stone walls the next day, having a shrewd notion that if he did not
the Boers would, for the mound commanded the place, and would soon make
it untenable.

Captain Roby's company and another were sent to this duty, and the men
were carefully posted--Lennox and Dickenson on the highest part, which
was naturally the most windy and cold. Their orders, which they
conveyed to the men, were to keep the strictest lookout, though the
enemy had retired far enough away; for the Boers had at that early
period of the war already acquired the credit of being slim and clever
at ambush and night attack.

But the night was well advanced, and the two friends, after visiting
post after post, were sitting huddled up in their greatcoats, longing
for hot coffee or cigarettes, and feeling obliged to rub their sleepy
and tired eyes from time to time, weary as they were with straining to
see danger creeping up over the black, dark veldt, but straining in
vain.

"B-r-r-r! What humbug it is to call this Africa!" growled Dickenson.

"What do you mean?" replied Lennox.

"Mean? Why, it's so cold. Where's your blazing heat and your sand?
One might be at the North Pole. Ow! don't do that."

He started violently, for Lennox had suddenly stolen out a hand and
pinched his arm sharply.

"Quiet!