Poeskop, after a night’s rest, was again dispatched on a journey of investigation. The little Bushman was now thoroughly in his element. He craved excitement, of which hunting and warfare represented to him the highest forms; and he craved, and saw with prophetic eyes, revenge--a final revenge--upon Karl Engelbrecht. He returned the same night with serious news. The Boers had quitted their camp that afternoon, and, leaving a sufficient guard to look after the wagons, had ridden into the mountain. With them were six native servants, carrying rifles. They were now resting in some thick bush at the commencement of the first valley, about six miles away. "That means," said Mr. Blakeney, "that they will attack us to-night or at early morning. Well, we shall have a sleepless night; but we’ll be ready for them, anyway." Night came; and after supper each man settled himself in his blanket by the post assigned to him, behind the breastwork of stones. Twenty yards beyond this extended the long and thick hedge of thorn bush which ran right up the edge of the cliff. Beyond that, the declivity that led up to their camp was bare for nearly two hundred yards. They had cut away the last patches of bush on this open glacis, over which their enemies would have to advance. They could only be outflanked by their foes breaking through the thorn fence on the side near the precipice and getting round that way. To guard against this contingency, Mr. Blakeney and Tom took positions which covered that corner. Guy came next. Next to him would be Poeskop; and on their right, again, Jan Kokerboom, September, Seleti, and Mangwalaan. These two last, being somewhat excitable Bechuanas, were warned against letting off their rifles too rapidly, and were enjoined to fire slowly and take careful aim. Jan Kokerboom, himself a cool and excellent shot, had the task of looking after these two and September the Zulu. It seemed an interminably long night. There was no moon, but the stars burned overhead with a wonderful brilliancy. In their camp all was as quiet as the grave. A low fire burned. It was Mr. Blakeney’s plan to let their assailants believe that they were all sleeping, quite unaware of any attack to be made against them. Poeskop, at his own special request, was abroad, away in front of their defences, creeping about in the darkness, listening intently for any sound that should herald the Boers’ approach.