I believe its a young crocodile, said Lennox. My word, how it tugs!
Play it play it, man! Dont pull, or youll drag the hook out of its jaws. Give it line.
Cant; he has it all out.
Then youll have to follow it down-stream.
What! go into the water? No, thanks.
What! shrink from wading when youve got on a fish like that at the end of your line? Here, let me come.
No; Ill play the brute and land him myself. But, I say, its a fine one of some kind; pulls like an eel. Look how its wagging its head from side to side.
Better let me come, said Dickenson, whose face was scarlet from excitement.
Get out!
Ill never forgive you if you lose that fish, Lennox, old man.
Not going to lose him. Look; he has turned, and is coming up-stream; for the line, which a few moments before was being violently jerked, suddenly grew slack.
Gone! gone! gone! cried Dickenson, with something of a sob in his throat.
You be quiet! said Drew. I thought, it was only a bit of wood a few minutes ago.
Fish, of course, and the hooks broken away.
Think so? was the cool reply, as foot after foot of the line was drawn in. I was beginning to be of the opinion that he had given it up as a bad job and was swimming right in to surrender.
No; I told you so. Youve dragged the hook right out the fishs jaws, and Oh, Im blessed!
With a good opinion of yourself, Bobby, said Drew, laughing; for after softly hauling in about eight or ten yards of the stout water-cord he felt the fish again, when it gave one smart tug at the line and dashed up past the stone, running out all that had been recovered in a very few seconds.
Directly after there was a check and a jerk at the officers hand, while a cry escaped his lips as he let the line go and stooped to pick up his rifle.
Thats no good, began Dickenson.
Quick, man! Down with you! Ah! youve left your rifle. Cover!
Oh! ejaculated Dickenson; and his jaw dropped, and he stood motionless, staring across the river at the sight before him on the other bank.
Hands up! Surrender! Youre surrounded! shouted a rough voice. Drop that rifle, or we fire.
Drew Lennox was bent nearly double in the act of raising it as these words were uttered, and he saw before him some twenty or thirty barrels, whose holders had covered him, and apparently only awaited another movement
on the young officers part to shoot him down as they would have done a springbok.
Oh dear! groaned Dickenson; to come to this! And he was in the act of raising his hands in token of surrender when his comrades head caught him full in the chest and drove him back among the bushes which grew densely at the mouth of the gully.
Crack! crack! crack! crack ! rang out half-a-dozen rifles, and Lennox, who as the consequence of his spring was lying right across his comrade, rolled off him.
Hurt? panted the latter in agonised tones.
No. Now then, crawl after me.
What are you going to do?
Creep up level with your rifle, and cover you while you get it.
Is it any use, old fellow? Theres about fifty of them over yonder.
I dont care if there are five hundred, growled Lennox through his teeth. Come along; we must keep it up till help comes from the laager.
Then you mean to fight? panted Dickenson as he crawled after his leader; while the Boers from the other side kept up a dropping fire right into and up the gully, evidently under the impression that the two officers were making that their line of retreat instead of creeping under cover of the bushes at the foot of the cliff-like bank, till Drew stopped opposite where the abandoned rifle lay upon the stone Dickenson had left, so far unseen.
Where they stopped the bushes were shorter and thinner, and they had a good view of the enemy, who had taken cover close to the edge of their bank and were keeping up a steady fire, sending their bullets searching the dense growth of the ravine, while about a dozen mounted men now appeared, cantering along towards where there was a ford about a mile lower down.
Thats to surround us, old man, said Dickenson. The miserable liars! There isnt a man this side. But oh, my chest! Youve knocked in some of my ribs.
Hang your ribs! We must get that rifle.
Wait till I get my wind back, panted Dickenson. Oh, what a fool I was to lay it down!
You were, Bobby; you were, said Drew quietly. Here, hold mine, and Ill dash out and bring it back.
No, you dont! cried the young officer; and as he crouched there on all fours he bounded out like a bear, seized the rifle from where it lay, and rushed back, followed by the shouts and bullets of four or five Boers, who saw him, but not quickly enough to get an effective aim.
Now call me a fool again, panted Dickenson, shuffling himself behind a stone.
It was Drew Lennoxs rifle that spoke, not he, as in reply to the fire they had brought upon them he took careful aim and drew trigger, when one of the Boers sprang up fully into sight, turned half-round, threw up his rifle, and fell back over the edge of the cliff among the bushes similar to those which sheltered the young Englishmen.