Chris had learned at Estcourt, where the train stopped a few minutes,
that Captain Brookfield's troop formed part of the Colonial Horse that
had advanced with General Barton's brigade, and they soon discovered
their position. Leaving the horses with the natives, they went to his
tent.
"I am delighted to see you back," he exclaimed as they entered. "I heard
in confidence from one of your party, when they joined me a week back,
that you had gone on a mad-brained adventure to try and blow up the
Komati-poort bridge. I was horrified! I had, of course, given you leave
to act on your own responsibility, but I never dreamt of your
undertaking an expedition of that sort. Of course you found it
impossible to get there. A lad told me that you had reckoned on being
away six or seven weeks, and it is less than a month since the date on
which he told me you left. Anyhow, I heartily congratulate you on all
getting back."
"We got there, sir, but nothing could be done with the bridge, it was so
safely guarded. However, we did blow up two big cannon and a battery of
small ones, some ten thousand rifles, and an enormous quantity of
ammunition." "You don't say so, Chris? Then you had better luck than you
deserved. One of the correspondents told me this morning that there was
news in the town by a telegram from Lorenzo Marques that there had been
an accidental explosion at Komati-poort, but it did not seem to be
anything serious.
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