THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
46 
Furleigh laughed at him, and Copeland 
struck out with his fist and missed. 
Once again Furleigh laughed, but he 
loosed the rein, and hit the mule a resound- 
ing wallop with his open palm. In went 
Copeland’s heels, and off went the mule at an 
awkward gallop. Furleigh stood where he 
was, with a grim smile on his face, watching. 
He saw that Copeland never once looked 
round. 
The mule plunged into the river under 
Copeland’s urging, and began to wallow and 
plunge across the ford. It was not until that 
moment that the Boers caught sight of him ; 
then ten men opened fire, and the men who 
were clustered round the helio stopped what 
they were doing to watch. 
The mule was by no means a steady target, 
and he was half-way over before the} 7 hit him ; 
he fell then, though, in a heap, head under, 
and Copeland slipped off his back and began 
to wade. Never once looking back, he 
plunged, pushing, wallowing forward, diving 
head and shoulders under for so long as he 
could hold his breath, bobbing up again for 
an instant, to be greeted with a volley that 
spattered round him, and then diving again 
and struggling forward. 
He reached the bank, unhit apparently, 
and he lay low there in the shallow water 
for five minutes. Then Furleigh saw him 
make a spring for it and climb the bank ; a 
long-range volley greeted him the moment 
that he showed himself, and as he reached 
the top he fell forward into the long grass 
and lay there. It was difficult to judge at 
that long distance, but it seemed to Furleigh 
that he had not been hit ; the Boers, though, 
thought otherwise, for they left off firing. 
Furleigh watched for a little while, but 
saw no sign of movement on the far bank, 
so he turned his attention to the signalling 
again. The flashes had resumed, and there 
was another man on the helio now, who 
seemed more of an adept at it. Furleigh 
crawled down towards the river, and lay 
still between two ant-hills ; from that angle 
he could read the flashes better. 
Flick-flick! went the Boer helio. “General 
Commanding,” read Furleigh from where he 
lay, and back came the answering flash : — 
Flick- flick-flick ! u Enemy retired some 
hours ago. Ford easy and undefended. 
Have reconnoitred all positions on far side. 
No signs of enemy except litter along line of 
their retreat.” 
“ Press forward and report,” came back 
the answer. 
From where Furleigh lay he could see the 
heads of more than a thousand Boer marks- 
men, peeping above a ridge to stare at a 
heavy dust-cloud that began to show on the 
far horizon. And from where the dust-cloud 
was there came the angry rumble of an army. 
A lumbering, blundering, bull-plucky British 
column was advancing with its eyes shut into 
planned, marked-out, calculated, ambus- 
caded death ! 
Flick-flick ! went the helio. Flash- flash ! 
came the answer. And the Boer heads dis- 
appeared again, and the Boer signallers un- 
shipped their instrument and hid it behind 
the ridge. 
Back crawled Furleigh to his hollow where 
the helio stood. If ever a man faced certain 
death, he did then ; but he faced it laughing. 
When he reached the hollow he drew out his 
pipe and filled and lit it. He was out of sight, 
he knew, and he could take his time about 
beginning ; but once he started he would have 
to hurry, for there were Boers in plenty 
within three hundred yards of him. So he 
smoked for five full minutes, while he thought ; 
there was going to be no room for mistakes. 
Then quietly, and almost casually, he stood 
up behind his instrument, and his fingers 
clutched the key. 
“ General Commanding,” he signalled, quite 
steadily and without a tremor ; “ General 
Commanding ” — “ General Commanding ” — 
“ Gen ” 
It seemed like an hour to him before the 
answer came ; and there were not even seconds 
to lose ! 
“ Last messages false ! ” he signalled. 
“ Enemy ambuscaded far side of ford in force. 
Scouts surprised and killed. Enemy using 
their helio to draw you into trap. Do you 
understand ? ” 
Another hour followed, that was really 
sixty seconds. Then : — 
“ Repeat ! ” came the answering signal. 
Furleigh heard sounds behind him — nailed 
boots hurrying over rocks, and a gruff com- 
mand in Dutch. The Boers had seen his 
signals ! But he kept his eyes fixed steadily 
on the sky in front of him, and repeated his 
signal word for word. 
“ To draw you into a trap,” he signalled. 
“ Do you under ” And a man peered 
over the edge of the kopje behind him and a 
rifle-barrel flashed for a second in the sun- 
light. There came a sharp report and another 
flash — and Furleigh dropped down in a heap 
where he had stood. Another Boer leaned 
over then and put another bullet into him, to 
make quite sure. 
The British column signalled and signalled, 
