DRISCOLL THE SCOUT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVII, Issue 11538, 24 November 1900, Page 5 (Supplement)

DRISCOLL THE SCOUT.

THRILLING STORY OP A MORNING'S k WORK. . ~ ...... Mr. Hales, the special correspondent of the Daily News, writes an amusing and, interesting account of a day's scouting with the celebrated scout, Driscoll. Bundle, he says, never blunders, because he does not play eithsr to the gallery or the glitter. He is a soldier, not an actor; a fighter, not a mountebank; and the day will surely come when all the world will know him for what he really isa disciple of the stern, unyielding, undemonstrative Wellington. So to my story. The morning was beautiful. I did not growl when Driscoll, General Rundle's chief scout, dragged me from between my blankets with the scant ceremony of the wildest of wild Irishmen and told me werw-going for a morning ride." So I went, for the man who kept close to Driscoll was sure to know pretty well all that occurred during the day. I knew that General Sir Leslie Bundle trusted him implicitly, and I olso knew that no matter from whom he obtained information, he would not attempt to attack until the Irish scout had examined the ground. So out we went, the scout riding his great grey blood stallion, I astride a clinking Basuto galloway, lent me by Captain Davis. As we rode, the little track brought us hard up on one side against the bosom of a mountain, on the other there was a ravine, deep, black, covered with loose boulders and dark-green bushes. A nice place to be shot in. Driscoll, who rode rifle on thigh, had no such thoughts, for as he rode he sang once more his eternal refrain: — Upon my life, said the silly old wife, There's a malm .... Suddenly, without any warning of any kind, the. hills rang, with the echoes of a dozen rifles, and the lead spit-spatted on the cliff-sides all round us. " Come on!" yelled Driscoll, and driving the spurs home in the big grey he dashed along that narrow goat-path as if he had been on an open racetrack. I got as close to my horse as I could. On we went, and in the midst of the echoes from the rifles I caught his voice howling: — Upon my life, said (ping, ping) the silly old wife, (Ping, ping, pash) there's a mahn (ping, ping, ping, pash). We rounded a turn in the track, and my heart nearly fell over my horse's head, for I saw that we were in a blind alley; a mountain rose in front of us like a wall. "We are nailed, Driscoll," I shouted ; " trapped like rats." " Not yet, sonny ; we've got a good chance yet." His Irish voice was steady and calm now. Out of his saddle he slipped, and, running to the cave in the track, he dropped on one knee and began to shoot. I saw a man in a tweed suit leap half-way over a boulder, then sprawl down on top of it on his belly and lie where he sprawled. Another darted from a rock towards a clump of bushes, but he never reached them. He stopped suddenly, dropped his rifle and tumbled backwards towards the spot he had started from. Then the rest took cover like a lot of rock rabbits. They knew by this time that there was a man behind the rifle, in the top end of the gully, and they knew too well what a man and a rifle c<Suld do in such a position to dare to take any liberties. Then the scout gave me my order, sharp and clear: " Take your horse by the head," he said, " and climb up the side of this kopje. Keep your horse between you and those fellows down there. I'll drop the first man who shows himself. When you reach the top put your horse over the brow of the hill and then take cover. Don't expose yourself, but make them think you are there to shoot; then I'll follow you." I did not waste any time in argument. There was no time for folly of that kind. But just lugging my clever little Basuto by the bridle, we made the climb. It was a terribly stiff place for a horse to go, but that eddy was as tricky as a cat on his feet. Once or twice I heard the bullets whizzing overhead, but DriscolPs rifle cracked at the same time, and I knew there was little danger for me, for men can't shoot without showing, themselves, and I knew no man down in that ravine would pop his head above a rock for many seconds with the grim scout watching from above. As soon as I reached the top I was out of all danger. Grabbing a few loose rocks, I rapidly built a scbanze, such as the Boers use when they are going to lie down and wait for a shot at a passing enemy, and there I ensconced myself." The ruse was successful. The Boers, thinking I had a rifle and meant to use it, lay quiet until Driscoll clambered up the same way he had sent me, and neither of us had a scratch. As we galloped homewards I said, " Well, do you think you will ever coax me out on such a fool's errand again?" " Yow'se a hard mahn to plaze," he said, dropping into his native brogue. " A rael hard mahn to plaze. You growl about the monotony of camp life, 'nd phin Oi give ye a good day's outin' ye grumble the more, ve onthankful lump ov quill-dhrivin' sin." " But what blessed good did it all do? Tell me that, you black Irishman?" " Only this," he said. "That gully looked like a pass which would lead into the enemy's stronghold, but I know now that it was not. Had a strong patrol gone into that blind alley, how many men do you think would have come out alive? Mighty few, my friend. And let me tell you that there have been" enough saddles emptied in that fool's fashion already in the British Army. A good morning's work I call it!" And so did the general when he heard of it.