A SCOUT'S ROMANCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3031, 17 April 1912, Page 90

A SCOUT'S ROMANCE.

By Feed Whishaw.

Dawson had already made lour moie or less successful "sorties" from Mafeking. Dawson knew one or two things ■which few others understand quite as well. For instance, he was familiar with the art of the "Higher Scouting." No snake could get over the ground more quickly or invisibly than Dawson when "upon the job," or in dangerous neighbourhoods. Then he knew by instinct when he was best afoot and when he would gain by being mounted; and when jhat moment arrived he always knew >rhere to lay his hands upon the necessary jorse. On this occasion he had safely passed the creeping stage, and, having purloined a quadruped, was riding at his best pace northward for Plumer's camp near Gaberones, when he happened upon a sight that brought him to a standstill, though he was in a hurry. This was an elderlv man, apparently a Boer, who sat on the ground and spoke aloud to himself, so Dawson concluded, for he could perceive no second person present The man caught sight of Dawson almost at the same instant, and, picking up nis rifle, fired two shots at him, shooting wildly, and laughing boisterously as he pulled trigger. "What's that for?" cried Dawson, speaking Dutch, which, being a colonial, he knew fluently. "I am a friend." "Good!" said the Boer; "you look like a rooinek, but I was not sure you were not the devil. 1 have lain out here for two nights, wounded, and I began to think the Almighty had deserted me, and that I had fallen into worse hands. It's water I want more than anything." "All right," said Dawson. "I am not the devil, and you shall have a drink." He gave the old man water. "Your leg's broken, I see," he continued. "What are you doing here alone?" "Plumer's men shot me. I thought I could ride home —niy farm is close by,— but my horse stepped in a iuole and threw me, and here I am! Seven miles more and I should have been at home, and then this!" 'lt was bad luck," said Dawson, "and no wonder you took me for the devil. You are in a high fever; let's see whether I can lioist you into my saddle, and I'll take you to the farm ; there! it hurt a bit, I dare say, but you're on. Have another drink; now we may make a start." With many groans the wounded man permitted himself to be assisted on horseback. "Why, it is my own horse!" he exclaimed. "Did Frieda send you back with him?" "Who is she?" laughed Dawson. "I found the horse grazing on the veldt near by." "Frieda is my daughter. I thought perhaps Stay ; am I still raving, or are you an Englishman?" "I am on the English side, but colony born," said Dawson. "Yes, I have commandeered the horse; we are enemies, of course, though I am, as you perceive. a benevolent foe." "Frieda said I was an old fool to turn out; I suppose she was right. Well, I have lost a horse, and maybe one leg. Maybe I deserve it; I was not commandeered—l might have stayed at home." "Who knows?—you may recover both. Legs mend ; and when I have done with the horse you shall have it back." "You are engaged upon war business, then. I wish I had shot you, though you have treated mo well." "Come—one may be too patriotic • your conscience need not accuse you, for\ou did your best; for the rest, it is just as well for both of us that you missed." 'And where are ycu bound for:"" • "Oh, no, that is my secret. I have promised you shall have the horse when I have done with him. Is not that enough?" Presently the farm was reached, and Dawson obtained his first glimpse of Frieda. She was a big-framed girl, dark and handsome, and she stared at Dawson with keen eyes that saw more than the outside of matters. "You arc an Englishman," she said at on.ee, "and here we are uncompromising Boers. You are not safe in this place." "I have brought in a wounded man " said Dawson. "Surely, if the house was lull of armed enemies, I should have a free pass out." "I do not think it. Better not to stay I am grateful that you have bought my father in. but with us private feelings give way to the duties of patriotism." „Z\ am not afraid," laurrhed Dawson Whom am I to fear? You or your father? T*? 6 ft 1 J. 1 ? 8 her llead ancl nns » ed a little. T did not mean exactly that " she said "but it mijrht be my duty to speak of your presence here ' if others came This farm Ls a kind of centre for the fighters about this district." "Thank you for the warning," said Dawson. "As it happens, I did not intend to stav longer than to give the horse a rest." '<S' tllor ' S horse? " she said, surprised. Well, at present the horse is Pime • I commandeered it. The cjfrl flushed. "You are a bold one, she said. While Dawson ate the food that was presently placed before him. Frieda came in hurriedly, and reported that half' a doaen Boors approached. "Let them come." said Dawson. "I am under the red flag or the white- oa&, or both. They dare not touch m*.'"* "But I tel] you there is danger; either go ■ at once, keeping the house between

you and them, or let me hide you till they are gone." "Well done, you that spoke so sternly a few minutes since, and threatened me with I know not what! Hide me, then, if it is necessary. But it is shameful that I should be in danger." , "Out people are specially bitter against Africander Englishmen," she said. "That's why I say there is danger." When the girl had gone, leaving Dawson Ln the dairy, he crept back after a while, hearing voices raised somewhat highly, and stood ehind the door of the living room to listen. It appeared that the wounded man had made no secret of how he had returned to the farm in company with an English scout, and that the new arrivals, five in number, were insisting upon being informed as to what had become of him. Frieda was protesting that 'since the Englishman had befriended her wounded father, and brought him in, he was entitled to go scot free. "Xonsense," said one of the men. "When we have wounded him we will befriend him in like manner, but until then he is the common enemy, and to be shot when found." "Then find him," said Frieda; "hut take care, Hans Ekvaal, for he is a better man than you, by appearance." Dawson, seeing that their rifles were stacked in the corner of the room, concluded that this would be the moment for an effective entry. "Here I am," he said, appearing suddenly. "Go out, Hans Ekvaal, you first—no, do not approach the rifles, but go out of that door at once." The Boers stampeded, thoroughly startled. Dawson stood with his rifle at his shoulder till all had scrambled out of the door. He followed them. "Mount y r our horses and ride quickly. I shall begin to fire when I have counted two hundred. Pvide straight over the veldt." "Almachtig ! you are a bold one!" said Frieda, her eyes flashing. "But they will catch you and shoot you for this when you depart." "At anyrate, they will have to find other rifles,' said Dawson, "for these five and your father's I must take away as spoils of war." "Not- my father's; he will not permit it," said Frieda, flushing; but Dawson took all six with him when he rode away presently, and dropped them into the river near the drift close to the farm. Frieda looked after him until he disappeared. She had seemed very angry, and had not bidden him farewell, but she sighed when his figure was no longer in sight. ''Almachtig!" she repeated, "he is a bold one indeed. It is a pity," she added presently, "that so brave a man should be shot." Then she went into another room where two more rifles—a Mauser and an old sporting weapon—hung upon the wall. These she took down, and, carrying them into an outhouse, concealed them among sacks and litter. Within half an hour the five disarmed Boers returned. They were furious, ancl abused Frieda for taking in this man and mxkingr fools of them. "Where are our rifles?' they asked. "Ask the Englishman," laughed Frieda. "You abandoned them." "And you allowed him to carry them away," said Hans Ekvaal. "Get us your father's rifles; he has several." Frieda made, a pretence of looking for them. "They have disappeared," she said; "it is not likely he would have left them for you." Dawson thought more than once of the fine Boer girl who had befriended him under a show of hostility. "When I see her again," he thought, "I will thank her. There is the horse to take back," lie reflected. "I shall see her then." It did not strike Dawson as remarkable, but it was nevertheless the case that ho looked forward to his return to the farm, and was glad he had promised to briifg back the horse. "He will not return," Frieda said to herself more than once, and, strange to say, she was not thinking of the home. "He will not return, and it is a pity. Yet if he did there would he much danger." "There are some that think very little of danger," she repeated later, "and certainly he is one. I wish " She broke off at this point, but presently she added. "If Hans Ekvaal were like this .man my father should have his wish." "Why doe? not Baden-Powell catch or shoot the idiot?" was her final reflection. This time she was.not thinking of Dawson. Hans Ekvaal cam* nearly every day. His farm was close by; he was a rich young Boer, and Frieda's father coveted him for a son-in law—a position which Hans would have been charmed to occupy had Frieda shared her father's ambition. Meanwhile lie contrived to .spare many days from his duties out-side Mafeking to worrying Frieda at her father's farm, which lay conveniently cicse at hand. Dawson carried his message in safety, saw Colonel Plumer, and duly returned with tho borrowsd horse. Frcida was both surprised and pleased to see him. She patted the horse. " I never thought to .see thee agjJn. old Jan," she said, bending over the animal, unable to conceal faer joy, yet anxious to disguise its cause. "Nor his rider either then?" said Dawson. "The hors« was fairly your.s," she murmured. "But 1 promised to return him ; and if I had not I should have come, maybe, in any case. Will you nut welcome me also, Frieda,?" "You that are the enemy of my country? Nevertheless, I am glad, yes, that you have returned safely. In a few minutes you shall have food ready." Frieda left the room to prepare food, but returned almost immediately. "Da you see yonder," she said, "peering from behind thefihed, the face of a man? "Oh; I saw him before," said Dawson, whose quick eyes seldom missed anything that moved within range of their vision.

"Be left his horse in the trees behind there, and crept in on foot. He must have seen me come." "You are quick at observing. Yes, he has seen you. He is dangerous; it is that Hans Ekvaal whom you saw and disarmed a week ago. I vill go out and speak with him when you have eaten, and while we converse you shall op sa'el and depart." "Not I," said Dawson. "Who is the fellow?" "My husband, if niv father had his will," said Frieda, flushing. "And you? Is your will the same:" 'My will does "not count for much; B*>me day I suppose it will end as my father desires." "It is as well vou warned me," said Dawson, "for I might have shot the fellow if iie liad interfered with me. Well," he added somewhat sullenly, "then do as you raid—converse with him, and while you converse I will ride away; it is better to run no risks since matters are as you say." ( "I did not say—that," Freida faltered. "I said that my father would have a cartain thing, not that I wished it." "You do not look like one that would do such a thing against her will,""said Dawson. "I sihouli not think much of the maid that did. Well, keep him employed, for I tell you straight that if he follows me and interferes with mx> I shall shoot my best." "I will warn him, but I warn you also; ho is slim, and shoots wonderfully. I have seen him knock in a nail at one hundred paces. May the Almighty keep you if he gets a clear shot!" "Thank you. Would you rather escaped, then, though an enemy?" "The Lord keep you," said Frieda; "you are no enemy of mine—you who were kind to my father. Now, op sa'el, while we converse." "Wait, Frieda. Shall I come to see you when the war is ever? I, too, have a farm between this and Rustenburg. Shall you by then have married this Hans?" Frieda flushed. "Yes, come, come!" she said. Then she went out and conversed with Ekvaal, who abused heir roundly for harbouring an enemy. "It is the same fellow who was here a week ago. What doe*; it mean, Frieda?" he said angrily. "He borrowed a horse and returned it,'' said Frieda. "You know very Avell he brought in my father, who was wounded. Hans continued angrily: "He would never have come back to bring a horse. There is some other reason, Frieda. What is this you are doing?" "You are a fool, Hans, and I shall speak with you no more," said Frieda, "only to say that this man is a better man than you, and that you had better keep out of his way. There—l have warned you." "Oh oh!" So you are covering his retreat while you talk. Very well, Frieda, I shah not forget this; meanwhile, think not that I have not observed his departure ; I have seen him mount and ride away. When I have shot him I will return, and we will continue this conversation. We shall see -whether I am to tell your father or no that you have proved yourself a traitor. That will depend." "Your returning will also depend," said Frieda solemnly. "I tell you he is a better man that you; may the Almighty help the better man." Hans did not like this speech. It made him feel creepy and uncomfortable, and presently, when he caught sight Of Dawson, on horseback, half a mile away, standing still, and apparently looking back in case he should be following, the young Boer's aim was affected by his nervousness, for he shot old Jan, the horse, instead of the rider, and poor Jan fell, throwing Dawson behind a rick and out of sight. Then Hans also scuttled quickly behind cover and remained there somewhat anxiously, cursing his bad shot, and wishing he had not undertaken this enterprise, and for 10 minutes nothing hauoened. Hans began to hope that after all the English rascal might have been knocked out of time bj r his fall, and was in the art of movi"- cautiously from behind his bush, in order to creep nearer and see what was going on, when a bullet sent his hat whizzing away behind him. Dawson had crept within a hundred yards, and tin's was the first intimation of his approach. Hans lay low, gathering nerve, and praying with all his soul that he might catch sight of the enemy and get a shot in before he should himself bo seen. Suddenly something caught his eye: it was the flash of Dawson's barrel from an unexpected quarter. Dawson had outflanked and sighted him. At the same instant a bullet pierced his left shoulder. Hans fired almost simultaneously, his bullet striking the fleshy part of Dawsons arm. Then Dawson fired, and dropped his man dead_, the Boer's second bullet at the same moment sending his wallet flying round his neck. "I am very sorry if this should cause you any regret," wrote Dawson in reporting the circumstance by letter to Frieda a few days later, "but the fool shot at me on the sly, and I really couldn't stand that. I will call and tell you all about it when the war is over." And perhaps Frieda thought less of the tragedy so shortly described than of the concluding sentences of the letter. Frieda was one of those who was prepared to surrender unconditionally to the English. All she cared about was that the war should soon come to an end. Dawson, too, had certain ideas for the time when the peace-pipe should warble once more in the pastures.