The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1901-09-06


notion of seeking the English. What
were English people to her now? Her
lover dead, all England was dream.
And that dream gone, the kissing re-
ality was before her eyes again. She
was the spy, the traitor, the outcast.
The thought of turning the pistol on
herself came again more than once,
but she was girl never given to NOR
bidness at any time, and now, in spite
of the stunning blows which that day
had confounded her, the reaction, more
physical than mental, began, and in
stinctively she commenced, though al
most unconsciously, to question what
might be done. Venable was dead, and
she needed comfort. To whom could
she go for that save to her mother, and
by what means could she reach again
old Tante's breast? How could she
turn aside her fathers wrath?
She had left the reins to the horse
and the beast was following a path
which did not lead to the frontier.
Suddenly a distant cracking of mus
kerry made the animal prick his ears
and start. The noise which thus broke
the gloomy silence of the veldt awoke
Martha to a clearer sense of where she
was. She sat more straightly in the
saddle and listened. They came again,
not in yolleys, but in the scattered re-
ports Of slxirmish firing, the sounds Of
many guns. There was her father,
there by now might be Peter, holding
back the invader. There, if she had
had the luck, she thought, to have been
born a boy, should she be. She halted
and her eyes shone in the darkness.
Why should she not be? Why not prove
to her people that she was, if trail
tress, not one with intended malice?
She could shoot almost as well as Pc
ter; she was more active than men of
older age For full five minutes she
remained at halt, and then, swinging
her horse off the trail, she galloped to
the right straight across country, fol-
lowing no path or trek, save the sure
guide Of her native knowledge Of the
land.
By dawn the veldt was alive with
strange noises and unwonted visitors.
Trumpets were calling across its grass
es. The clatter of steel scabbards
against spurs and stirrup irons rang
out in the quiet air. Drums were beat
ing. The loud and sharp commands
came swiftly from the mouths Of alert
sergeants. The English camp was
struck, and the first rays of the sun
glanced from the buttons and bayonets
of the invading army as it formed col
umn and marched into the heart Of the
coveted land. Swinging along with the
practiced, never faltering step Of long
drilled soldiers, the army passed, with
here and there bronzed horseman
darting from front to rear and rear to
front with orders, and flying above it
the proud banner that has been so in
frequently lowered.
So they passed, the gay group of gen.
eral and staff in front, chatting and
laughing. until of moment their talk
and laughter ceased, and swiftly the
chief sent his aids galloping back along
the column with sharp orders to close
up. Down the trek, with grim faces,
came slowly in retreat the advance
guard, the scouts, bearing with them
wounded men and dead.
'"The enemy is in force" they said,
"but they won't stand. They are here,
there and everywhere over the veldt,
behind anthills and trees, behind rocks
on the kopjes, always keeping at dis
tance and picking off our men every
shot at long range"
A stronger guard was sent to the
front. Scouts were sent out on either
flank, and the column again moved for
ward. Now the laughing and talking
ceased, and vexation and wrath were
on the face of the chief and were re-
fected on the faces of his aids, for the
number of soldiers being sent to the
surgeons in the rear was increasing, and
nothing could be seen of the Beers but
distant horsemen or rapidly moving
squads far off or occasional sharpshoot-
ers many yards away or perpetual
puffs of smoke above powders and be-
hind the scrubby trees. Little drilled
in battle line and hollow square, the
farmer soldiers were defending their
country in their own way. So the col
umn passed on. So the Beers retreat
ed, harassing front and flank, and the
English general growled and grumbled:
1.-THE beggars are in force. Why
don't they stand up and fight?"
And little boy, riding alongside his
father to see the fun, so sure were the
English that it would be little more
than a sham battle. looked up at the
officer and asked with surprise:
'Pa, isn't it time yet to begin to lick
them?"
Meanwhile the patriots had moving
among them their pastors, and before
the fight commenced their day had be-
gun with prayer to the Lord of Hosts.
Theirs was not the trim and soldierly
appearance of the invaders. Old men
were there In the clothes in which they
followed the plowJ boys were there in
the garb in which they herded the cat
tie or guided the long OK trains. Their
visage was grimly solemn - man and
boy. AS they retreated along the trek's
fianks, holding together in squads, un-
disciplined save by the force engen-
dered by each mans love of land, each
mans determination to follow to the
end a common purpose. officers gal
loped among them, cheerily and ear
nestly encouraging them. Among these
officers was old Dom Jan, and for all
his years his eye was as bright and his
form as erect in the saddle as those of
his people 80 years younger than he.