"Keeping their gregarious home tidy for their tribe to come back to when we are gone." "Well, plenty do live in these kopjes. Remember about that one up in the Matabele country that was full of cracks and passages, and had four or five caves one above another?" "Oh yes, I remember it." "This might be the same some day, but I believe it's all a reservoir of water inside." "Or else solid, for there seems to be no door. We may find a way in yet; I shouldn't wonder." "I should," said Dickenson; "and I believe after all now that the chirping I heard was made by some rat-like creature." "The more I think about it," continued Lennox, "the more I feel ready to believe that two or three of the Kaffirs are here, and in communication with the Boers." "What! acting as spies?" Lennox nodded; he was still too short of breath to talk much. "Well, now you come to talk like that, it does appear possible, for the Boers do seem to have known pretty well how and when to attack us." "Exactly." "Of course! Why, there was the night when they were bringing up the big gun. They must have had guides." "Oh, if you come to that, they may have people with them who used to live here." "Yes, they may have," said Dickenson; "but it isn't likely. Depend upon it, there are two or three Kaffirs somewhere about here, and we have them to thank for some of our misfortunes. If we do catch them they'll have it pretty sharp." "Not they," said Lennox. "We shall treat them as prisoners of war." "As spies," said Dickenson, "and you know their lot." "Psh! The colonel would not shoot a set of poor ignorant blacks." "Browns--browns, browns." "For a reward they'd fight for us just as they may have been fighting for the Boers." "But we don't want them to fight for us. If they'd try and feed us they'd be doing some good.--Yes, all right. Ahoy there!" shouted the speaker, for a hail came from higher up. "Forward, my lads; forward!" This last to the men on either side, who had snapped at the chance of a few minutes' rest, after the fashion displayed by their officers. The climbing advance went on again till the level patch at the top, which had been turned into a gun-platform, was reached, and the men halted in the bright sunshine, to group about the huge gun after they had been ordered to break off. They rested, enjoying the cool breeze and gazing eagerly about in search of enemies, seeing, however, nothing but the surrounding prospect all looking bright and peaceful in the morning sun. "`Brayvo! Werry pretty!' as Sam Weller would have said," cried Dickenson as Captain Roby closed the field-glass he had been using and joined his junior officers, frowning and looking impatient.