Between Snow and Fire — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘TWEEN SVOW AND Rhee ere the responsibility, whereas in a post of command he would have been let in for no end of bother. So he and Eustace chum up together, and share tent and supplies and danger and duty, like a pair of regulation foster-brothers, Our patrol rode steadily on, keeping a sharp look out on all sides. Its instructions were to ascertain the whereabouts of the enemy and his cattle, rather than to engage him in actual conflict. Should he, however, appear in such mod- erate force as to render an engagement feasible with a fair chance of success, then by all means let them teach him a lesson—and ardently did the men hope for such an oppor- tunity. They numbered but forty all told, all more or less experienced frontiersmen, who knew how to use their rifles —all well versed in the ways of bush fighting, and thor- oughly understanding how to meet the savage on his own ground and in his own way. In short, they reckoned them- selves well able to render account of at least six times that number of the enemy, their only misgiving being lest the -wily sons of Xosa should not afford them the chance. In spite of his predilection for the dark-skinned bar- barians aforesaid and his preference for the ways of peace, there was something wonderfully entrancing to Eustace Milne in this adventurous ride through the hostile country, as they held on over hill and valley, keeping a careful watch upon the long reaches of dark bush extending from the forest land which they were skirting, and which might conceal hundreds—nay thousands—of the savage foe lying in wait in his lurking place for this mere handful of whites— a something which sent a thrill through his veins and caused his eye to brighten as he rode along in the fresh morning air; for the clouds had dispersed now, and the sun, mounting into his sphere of unbroken blue, caused the wet earth to glisten like silver as the raindrops hung about the grass and bushes in clusters of flashing gems. “So! That’s better!” said one of the men, throwing open his waterproof coat. ‘“ More cheerful like!” “It is,” assented another. “We ought to have a brush with Jack Kafir to-day. It’s Sunday.” ‘‘Sunday is it? saida third. ‘ There ain’t no Sundays in the Transkei.” “But there are though, and its generally the day on which we have a fight.” Gomilchboo (E(0) m