on the firing line- 第8部分

Meanwhile；　half　of　the　men　inside　the　church　were　volunteering　for　the　party　of　twenty　guards　demanded　by　the　Captain。　It　was　a　surly　night；　cold　and　raw　with　a　drizzling　rain。　Nevertheless；　this　was　their　first　approach　to　anything　even　remotely　resembling　active　service；　and　the　men　sought　it　eagerly。

By　dint　of　attaching　himself　to　the　Captain's　elbow　and　assuming　that　his　going　was　an　understood　thing；　Weldon　accomplished　his　aim。　Eleven　o'clock　found　him；　wet　to　his　skin；　sneaking　on　the　points　of　his　toes　through　the　thick　grass　beyond　the　river；　with　nineteen　other　men　sneaking　at　his　heels。　There　had　been　no　especial　pretext　of　Boers　in　the　neighborhood；　tactical　thoroughness　merely　demanded　a　guard　on　the　farther　side　of　the　river。　Nevertheless；　the　enthusiastic　fellows　threw　themselves　into　the　game　with　the　same　spirit　with　which；　twenty　years　before；　they　had　faced　the　danger　of　a　runaway　by　the　tandem　of　rampant　hall　chairs。　A　stray　Boer　or　two　would　have　made　an　interesting　diversion；　but；　even　without　the　Boers；　a　night　guard　in　the　open　possessed　its　own　interest。

By　four　in　the　morning；　the　interest　had　waned　perceptibly。　The　establishment　of　their　force　in　a　convenient　hut　and　the　placing　of　pickets　had　served　to　occupy　an　hour　or　so。　After　that；　nothing　happened。　The　storm　was　increasing。　The　rain　beat　ceaselessly　on　the　corrugated　iron　roof　of　their　shelter　and　made　a　dreary　bass　accompaniment　to　the　strident　tenor　of　the　rising　wind。　Inside　the　but　the　men　yawned　and　whispered　together　by　turns。　Carew's　best　jokes　began　to　fall　a　little　flat；　and　Weldon　held　his　watch　to　his　ear；　to　assure　himself　that　it　was　still　in　active　service。　Then　hastily　he　thrust　the　watch　into　his　pocket；　gathered　up　his　sleeping…bag　and　removed　himself　to　a　remote　corner　of　the　hut；　with　Carew　and　a　dozen　more　after　him。

Not　even　the　most　enthusiastic　champion　of　South　African　rights　can　affirm　that　the　South　African　citizen　is　heedful　of　the　condition　of　his　lesser　buildings。　The　rising　wind　had　proved　too　much　for　the　hut。　Its　joints　writhed　a　little；　seesawed　up　and　down　a　little；　then　yawned　like　a　weary　old　man。　From　a　dozen　points　above；　the　rain　came　pattering　down；　seeking　with　unerring　instinct　that　precise　spot　on　each　man's　back　where　skin　and　collar　meet。

〃Whither？〃　Carew　queried；　as　Weldon　made　his　fifth　move。

〃Outside；　to　see　what　the　pickets　are　about。〃

〃But　it　rains；〃　Carew　protested　lazily。

〃So　I　observe。　Still；　I'd　rather　take　it　outside　as　it　comes；　instead　of　having　a　gutter　empty　itself　on　me；　when　I　am　supposed　to　be　under　cover。〃

〃Better　stay　in；〃　Carew　advised　him。

〃No　use。　Sleep　is　out　of　the　question；　and　I'd　rather　be　moving；　it　is　less　monotonous。〃

〃Go　along；　then；　and　look　out　for　Boers。　Can　I　have　your　bag？〃

〃You're　too　wet；　you'd　soak　up　all　the　inside　of　it。　If　I　am　to　get　a　chill；　I'd　rather　do　it　from　my　dampness　than　your　own。〃　Carew　laid　hands　on　the　bag。

〃What　a　selfish　beast　you　are；　Weldon！〃　he　observed　tranquilly。　〃This　is　no　sack…race；　you　can't　go　out　to　walk　in　your　bag。　In　fact；　it　takes　two　to　make　a　navigable　pair。　Then　why　not　let　me　have　it？〃

〃Why　didn't　you　bring　your　own？〃

Already　Carew　was　arranging　himself　in　his　new　covering。

〃I　mislaid　mine　in　Cape　Town；〃　he　replied　sleepily。　〃Now　please　go　away。　I　need　my　beauty　nap。〃

An　hour　later；　he　was　roused　by　a　sharp　reversal　of　his　normal　position。　When　he　became　fully　awake；　he　was　lying　in　a　pool　of　water　in　the　middle　of　the　hut；　and　Weldon　was　in　possession　of　the　blankets　and　bag。

〃What's　the　row？〃　he　asked　thickly。　〃I'm　a　Canadian；　out　here　shooting　Boers。　Oh；　I　say！〃　And　he　was　on　his　feet；　saluting　the　man　at　Weldon's　side。

〃The　only　bag　in　the　squadron；　Captain　Frazer；〃　Weldon　was　explaining。　〃The　blankets　are　quite　dry。　Roll　yourself　up；　and　you　will　be　warm　in　a　few　minutes。〃

Carew　surveyed　the　transfer　with　merry；　impartial　eyes。

〃Well；　I　like　that；〃　he　said；　when　the　Captain's　yellow　head　was　all　that　was　visible　above　the　encircling　cocoon。　〃I　thought　you　said　that　you　preferred　to　catch　cold　from　your　own　wetness；　Weldon。　I　was　merely　damp；　this　man　is　a　sponge。〃

Before　Weldon　could　answer；　the　yellow　head　turned；　and　the　blue　eyes　looked　up　into　Carew's　eyes　laughingly。

〃Merely　one　of　the　privileges　of　rank；　Carew；〃　the　Captain　observed　as　dryly　as　if　he　had　not　risen　from　his　warm　bed　to　swim　the　river　and　walk　a　mile　in　the　darkness　and　the　downpour；　in　order　to　see　how　the　new　boys　were　getting　on。




CHAPTER　SIX


Captain　Leo　Frazer；　age　thirty　and　an　Englishman；　had　a　trick　of　looking　Fate　between　the　eyes　with　those　black…fringed　blue　eyes　of　his；　of　accepting　its　gifts　with　gratitude；　its　occasional　knocks　with　cheery　optimism。　At　Rugby　he　had　ultimately　been　captain　of　the　school；　at　Oxford　he　had　been　of　equal　prowess　in　rowing　and　football。　Since　taking　his　degree；　he　had　been　a　successful　doctor　in　the　intervals　of　time　allowed　him　by　his　membership　in　one　of　the　crack　regiments　at　home。　He　had　never　seriously　contemplated　the　possibility　of　active　service；　but　Colenso　had　been　too　strong　a　pull　upon　him。　Leaving　some　scores　of　sorrowing　patients　to　bemoan　him　as　already　dead；　he　had　promptly　shipped　for　Cape　Town。　The　year　of　grace　nineteen　hundred　had　found　him　on　the　scene　at　most　of　its　exciting　events。　Where　Fate　refused　to　take　him；　he　asserted　his　strong　hand　and　took　Fate；　until　that　weary　lady　was　forced　to　go　hopping　about　the　map　of　South　Africa　with　the　agility　of　a　sand　flea。

In　battle；　Frazer　was　always　in　the　thickest　spatter　of　bullets；　where　he　bowed　himself　to　the　inevitable　and　lay　prone；　though　with　his　face　turned　to　one　side　to　give　free　passage　to　the　chaff　which　carried　his　comrades　through　so　many　grim　hours。　In　the　presence　of　danger；　his　humor　never　failed　him。　In　those　sorrowful　hours　which　followed　the　cessation　of　firing；　no　man　was　in　greater　demand　than　he。　Many　a　brave　fellow　had　died　with　his　hand　shut　fast　over　Frazer's　long；　slim　fingers；　many　a　man's　first；　awful　moments　in　hospital　had　been　soothed　by　the　touch　of　those　same　firm；　slim　hands。　And　in　the　singsongs　around　the　camp　fire；　or　at　the　mess　table；　Frazer's　voice　was　always　heard；　no　matter　how　great　the　tumult　of　a　moment　before。

Like　many　another　of　his　countrymen；　Captain　Frazer　had　learned　lessons　since　he　had　left　the　ship　at　Cape　Town；　just　a　year　before。　He　had　come　out　from　England；　trained　to　the　inflexibly　formal　tactics　of　the　British　army。　Again　and　again　he　had　seen　those　tactics　proved　of　no　avail　in　the　face　of　an　invisible　enemy　and　an　almost　inexpugnable　country。　He　had　learned　the　nerve…racking　tension　of　being　exposed　to　a　storm　of　bullets　that　came　apparently　from　nowhere　to　cut　down　the　British　lines　as　the　hail　cuts　down　the　standing　grain；　he　had　learned　the　shock　of　seeing　the　level　veldt；　over　which　he　was　marching；　burst　into　a　line　of　fire　at　his　very　feet　from　a　spot　where　it　seemed　that　scarce　a　dozen　men　could　lie　in　hiding；　to　say　nothing　of　a　dozen　scores。　He　had　learned　that；　under　such　fire；　a　man's　first　duty　was　to　drop　flat　on　his　face；　to　push　up　a　tiny　breastwork　of　earth　and　to　fire　from　behind　that　slender　shelter。　England　could　not　afford　to　send　her　sons　over　seas　for　the　sake　of　having　them　slaughtered　by　needless　obedience　to　the　laws　of　martial　good　form。　Fighting　a　nation　of　hunters；　they　too　must　adopt　the　methods　of　the　hunt。　And；　most　of　all；　Captain　Frazer　had　learned　the　imperative　need　of　mounted　riflemen。　Two　months　before；　while　lying　up　at　Durban　until　his　wrist　had　healed　from　a　Mauser　bullet；　he　had　come　into　close　contact　with　the　Marquis　of　Tullibardine。　As　a　result　of　that　contact；　January　had　found　Captain　Frazer　in　Cape　Town；　ready　to　take　command　of　the　newly　enlisted　Scottish　Horse。

Now；　as　he　looked　over　his　force　at　Piquetberg　Road；　he　was　congratulating　himself　that　his　men　were　fit　for　service；　very　fit。　Frazer　knew　something　of　men。　Experience　had　assured　him　that　these　men　were　worth　training　and　his　months　of　service　under　the　great　Field　Marshal　had　taught　him　that　an　officer　could　be　a　man　among　his　men；　yet　lose　not　one　jot　of　his　dignity。　Accordingly；　Frazer　set　himself　to　the　task　in　band。　By　the　time　he　had　been　at　Piquetberg　Road　for　two　days；　he　knew　the　name　and　face　of　every　man　in　his　squadron。　A　week　later　he　could　tell　to　a　nicety　which　of　his　men　were　engaged　to　girls　at　home；　which　of　them　had　heard　of　one　Rudyard　Kipling；　and　which　of　them　could　be　counted　upon　in　an　emergency。　The　two　latter　counts　Weldon　filled　absolutely。　In　regard　to　the　first；　Frazer　permitted　himself　a　moment　of　acute　uneasiness。　It　had　been　in　a　spirit　of　unmitigated　joy　that　Frazer　had　met　Ethel　Dent　in　Cape　Town；　on　the　morning　of　New　Year's　day。　In　London　he　had　known　the　girl　just　well　enough　to　admire　her　intensely；　not　well　enough；　however；　to　have　found　out　that　she　had　any　permanent　connection　with　South　Africa。　His　joy　had　lasted　until　the　hour　of　his　calling　upon　her；　three　days　later；　then　it　had　received　a　sudden　check。　Ethel　had　been　as　cordial　as　ever；　nevertheless；　her　talk　had　been　full　of　the　young　Canadian　whom　he　had　met　in　the　drive。　Frazer　was　intensely　huma