They had been permitted to pass within a hundred yards of
thousands of Boers among the bushes on the river bank, and had even
crossed the bridge and returned without a rifle shot being fired or a
Boer showing his head. And it was on their report that there were
apparently no Boers in the neighbourhood that the batteries were pushed
forward into the fatal trap prepared for them. So Chris and his
companions, at the rear of the colonial cavalry, trotted along ready at
a moment's notice to swing round their rifles for instant action. They
watched every stone and clump of bushes on the slopes of the valley for
any foe that might be lurking there, and who at any moment might pour
out a rain of bullets into the column. Very few words were spoken on the
way, the tension was too great. They knew that Ladysmith had telegraphed
that the Boers appeared to be everywhere falling back. But a few
thousands of their best fighting men might have remained to strike one
terrible blow at the troops who in open fight had shown themselves their
superiors, and had driven them from position after position that they
believed impregnable. However, as one after another of the spots where
an ambuscade would be likely to be laid passed, and there were still no
signs of the enemy, the keenness of the watch began to abate, and the
set expression of the faces to relax.
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