ound that he had been seen by
a number of hostile natives who were then running towards him, some
to climb the hill, others branching out to surround it. He knew that
those on the flat could cut him off before he could descend and that
his only chance lay in 'bluff.' Stepping on to the outermost ledge in
full view of the enemy he calmly laid down his rifle, drew off first
one and then the other of his velschoens (home-made hide shoes, in
those poorer days worn without socks) and after quietly knocking the
sand out of them drew them on again. By this time the natives had
stopped to observe him. He then picked up his rifle again, and
turning to an imaginary force behind the kopje waved to the right and
then to the left, as though directing them to charge round each end
of the hill. The next instant the Kaffirs were in full retreat.

CHAPTER VII.

AFTER DOORNKOP.

The news of Dr. Jameson's surrender was received in Johannesburg
towards mid-day, at first with derision, but as report after report
came in, each confirming and supplementing the other, no room for
doubt was left and a scene of the wildest excitement ensued. It is
not too much to say that not one person in a hundred, no matter what
his political leanings were, had doubted for a moment Dr. Jameson's
ability to force his way into Johannesburg. There is not the
slightest indication in the newspapers of the time, which without
doubt reflected every varying mood and repeated every rumour which it
was possible to catch from an excited people, that there was in any
man's mind a suspicion that the Boers would be able to stop the
invader. In the first place no one believed that they could mobilize
sufficiently quickly to oppose him, and in the second place, he was
understood to have a force of 800 men so admirably equipped and
trained that it would not be possible for 5,000 Boers hurriedly
called together to intercept him. All this, however, was forgotten
when it came to accounting for the disaster; or rather, the previous
convictions only added strength to the rage of disappointment. The
public by that time knew of the letter of invitation; it had been
taken on the battle-field and news of it was telegraphed in, and
apart from this the writers had made no secret of it. But what the
public did not know, and what, if they had known it, would not have
appealed with similar force, was the efforts made to stop Jameson and
the practical withdrawal of the letter be