Chapter Nineteen.The Sky Clears.Once more in the wagon, one ox a pair of despondent prisoners, hot in temper as well as in person with the excitement of what he had so lately gone through, West cast himself down upon the floor ready to groan, while his more experienced, harder comrade sat down cross-legged to think.“If I only knew where the coat was!” said West, with a groan.“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough. “I’m afraid it’s gone for ever! That Kaffir was one of the Boers’ slave-like servants, of course, or he wouldn’t have been in the camp; and after the attempt at theft, if he was not too badly wounded, he would bolt right off for his own people. It’s a sad business, old lad: but I don’t think you need fear that it will fall into the Boers’ hands.”“No, I don’t fear that!” replied West. “But it is the misery and shame of the failure that worries me! I did so mean to succeed!”“Hah! Yes,” sighed Ingleborough again; “but someone said—hang me if I know who!—‘’Tis not in mortals to command success.’ You’re only a mortal, old fellow, and you must make the best of it.”West groaned.“It’s horribly hard; just, too, as I had hatched out a way of escape,” continued Ingleborough.“I don’t want to escape now.”“What? You don’t mean to join the Boers as old Fat Face suggested?”“Why not?” said West dismally. “I dare not go back to Kimberley.”“You daren’t turn traitor to your country, and, though you feel right down in the dumps, you dare go back to Kimberley and walk straight to the Commandant and speak out like a man, saying: ‘I did my best, sir; but I failed dismally!’”“Ah!” sighed West.“And he would reply: ‘Well, it’s a bad job, my lad; but it’s the fortune of war.’”West held out his hand as he sat there tailor-fashion by his friend in the bottom of the wagon, and there was a warm grip exchanged.“Bravo, boy! You’re coming round! I knew it. You only wanted time.”“Thank you, Ingle! Now then, what was your idea of escaping?”“Oh, a very simple one, but as likely to succeed as to fail.”“Tell me at once! It will keep me from thinking about that miserable despatch.”“And the jacket! You and I will have to take turn and turn with mine when the cold nights come, unless we pretend to lovely Anson that we are going to stop, and ask him to get you a fresh covering for your chest and back.”“Oh, none of that, Ingle! I can’t bear lying subterfuges. I’d sooner bear the cold of the bitter nights.”“Don’t use big words, lad! Subterfuge, indeed! Saydodge—a war dodge. But about my plan! You have noticed that for some reason they have not taken our ponies away.”“Yes, they are still tethered to the wheel ox that wagon. What of that? It would be impossible to get to them and ride out unchallenged.”“Oh no: not my way!”“What is your way?” said West excitedly.“Last night was dark as pitch.”“Yes; but there are double lines of sentries about.”“With sharp eyes too; but there was a commando rode out, evidently to patrol the country and look out for our people.”“Yes; I heard them ride away.”“And I heard them come back at daybreak; but I was too lazy to get up.”“I don’t see what you are aiming at,” said West wearily; “but I suppose you have some good idea—I hope a plausible one.”“I think it is, old lad,” said Ingleborough, speaking now in a low whisper. “Suppose when that commando musters after dark—I am supposing that one will go out again to-night—suppose, I say, when it musters we had crept out of the wagon and crawled as far as that one where our ponies are tethered?”West’s hand stole forward to grip his comrade’s knee.“Ah, you’re beginning to grasp it!” said Ingleborough. “Then, as I still have my knife, suppose I cut the reins and we mounted.”“And joined the muster?” said West, in a hoarse whisper.“It isn’t a dragoon troop, with men answering the roll-call and telling off in fours from the right.”“No, just a crowd!” said West excitedly.“Exactly! There’s only one reason why we shouldn’t succeed.”“What’s that?”“We don’t look rough and blackguardly enough.”“Oh, Ingle, I quite grasp it now!”“I’ve been quite aware of that, old lad, for the last minute—that and something else. I don’t know what will have happened when the war is over, but at present I don’t wear a wooden leg. Oh, my knee! I didn’t think your fingers were made of bone.”“I beg your pardon, old fellow!”“Don’t name it, lad! I’m very glad you have so much energy in you, and proud of my powers of enduring such a vice-like—or say vicious—grip without holloaing out. Next time try your strength on Anson! Why, your fingers would almost go through his fat.”“Ingle, we must try it to-night.”“Or the first opportunity.”“Why didn’t you think of that before we lost the despatch?”“Hah! Why didn’t I? Suppose it didn’t come!”West rose and crept to the end of the wagon and looked out.“The ponies are still there,” he whispered, and then he started violently, for a voice at the other end of the wagon cried: “Hallo, you two!”West turned, with his heart sinking, convinced that the man must have heard.“I’m just off sentry!” the Boer said good-humouredly. “I must have shaved that Kaffir somewhere and not hurt him much. As soon as I was relieved I went and had a good look for him; but there wasn’t so much as a drop of blood.”“Poor wretch!” thought West.“Lucky for him!” said Ingleborough, in Dutch.“But I made the beggar drop the jacket,” said the Boer, laughing; and, to the delight of the prisoners, he sent it flying into the wagon.That was all, and the sentry strode away, just as West bounded upon the recovered garment like a tiger upon its prey.“Say bless him!” whispered Ingleborough.“Oh, Ingle!” groaned his companion, in a choking voice: “I can feel the despatch quite safe.”“Hah!” ejaculated Ingleborough.“And such a little while ago I was ready to curse fate and the very hour I was born!”“And very wrong of you too, my son!” said Ingleborough, in tones which betrayed some emotion. “Cursing’s a very bad habit, and only belongs to times when wicked old men lived in old-fashioned plays and indulged in it upon all kinds of occasions, especially when they had sons and daughters who wanted to marry somebody else.”“Oh, Ingle! Oh, Ingle! The sky doesn’t look so covered with black clouds now.”“By no means, my lad! I can see enough blue sky to make a Dutchman a pair of breeches—for Dutchman let’s say Boer. I say, what do you say to going out on patrol to-night?”“Yes, yes, of course! But we have no guns!”“Nor bandoliers, and that’s a fact! Well, it’s of no use to think of getting our own back again, even if we said we repented and meant to join the Boers at once.”“They wouldn’t trust us!”“Too slim! Fools if they did!”“Then it is hopeless!” said West. “Someone would notice it at once!”“Yes,” said Ingleborough, “and those were beautiful rifles too. But look here: I could see a way out of the difficulty, only you are so scrupulous. One mustn’t tell a diplomatic fib.”“I can’t stand telling an outrageous lie, even under stern necessity!” said West, pulling down his jacket after putting it on.“And you are so horribly honest!”“Yes,” said West bitterly. “I have not, as Anson declared, been busy buying illicit-diamonds. But why do you say this—what do you mean?”“I meant that I’d have risked it as soon as it was dark, and crept away to steal a couple of the Boers’ Mausers—just like a cat—mouser after Mauser—I say, what a horrible joke!”West was silent.“They say they’re splendid pieces; but it would be a terrible theft, because I should take the bandoliers too.”West was still silent.“I say, lad,” whispered Ingleborough, laughing gently: “you couldn’t object to my stealing the rifles that would be used to kill our men.”“How would you manage?” whispered West.“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough, relieving his breast of a long pent-up breath, as he looked up at the arched-in wagon-tilt: “this fellow’s very nearly as wicked as I am.”“Don’t—don’t joke!” said West: “the matter is too serious. How would you manage?”“Never you mind, old Very Particular! Leave that to me! By the way, though, before I lie down and have a good nap, in case I should be out all night, I don’t think there is the slightest probability of our joining the Boer forces, do you?”“Not the slightest!” answered West drily. “There’ll be plenty of traitors to their country without us!”Five minutes later Ingleborough, whose head troubled him more than he owned to, was sleeping soundly, leaving West thinking deeply over the prospects of a daring escape, and every now and then glancing out and across the laager to make sure that the ponies had not been moved, as well as to fix the position of every wagon well in his mind ready for the time when his comrade and he would be stealing across in the dark, and thinking at times that the Boers must be mad to leave their prisoners’ mounts tethered in sight of their temporary prison.“But they’re altogether mad!” he mused, “or they would never have dared to defy the power of England in the way they have done!”This thought had hardly passed through his mind when he saw a group of the laager’s occupants come by the prison wagon, each with a couple of well-filled bandoliers crossbelt-fashion over his breast, and rifle slung, making for the range forming one side of the laager. They broke up into twos and threes, and as they approached they unslung their weapons and took off their cartridge-belts to place them beneath the wagon-tilts, while they settled down to prepare a meal before having a rest.“Just come off duty!” thought the prisoner, and, with his heart beating fast, he sat watching two of the men and then gazing hard at the nearest wagon, piercing in imagination the thick canvas covering spread over the arching-in hoops, and seeing, as he believed, exactly where two Mauser rifles and the Boers’ bandoliers had been laid.“Why, if it were dark,” he thought, “I could creep out and secure those two rifles as easily as possible—if they were not taken away!”West’s face turned scarlet, and it was not from the heat of the sun upon the wagon-tilt, nor from the sultry air which passed in from one end and out at the other.He drew a deep breath and moved towards Ingleborough to tell him of the burning thoughts within him; but his comrade was sleeping so peacefully that he shrank from awakening him.“He’ll want all his strength!” thought West, and then he fell to wondering whether or not they would succeed.The plan was so wonderfully simple that it seemed very possible, but—Yes, there were so many “buts” rising up in the way. The slightest hitch would spoil all, and they would be detected and subjected to the roughest of usage, even if they were not shot. But it was worth the risk, and the thinker’s heart began to beat faster, and his hand stole to the part of his jacket where he had hidden the despatch, and as he did so he mentally saw himself and his companion riding through the darkness with the Boers, and waiting for an opportunity to dash off, taking the enemy so by surprise that they would be off and away and well into the gloom before they could be followed.Once well mounted, with the open veldt before them, and the darkness for their friend, he felt that it would go hard if they did not escape.He had come to this point, and was full of a wild exhilaration, feeling at heart that the venture only wanted the dash with which they would infuse it, when his attention was taken up by seeing the Boer leader with about half-a-dozen of his field-cornets pass by the open end of the tent and cross the laager.He watched them with some anxiety, and then all at once his heart began to sink with a sudden attack of despair, for two of the party went off in front, unfastened the reins by which the two Basuto ponies were tethered to the wagon-wheels, and led them to where the Boer leader and the rest had halted, prior to putting the little animals through their paces as if to test their powers in connection with some object in view.A castle in the air dashed down into nothingness, and he uttered a low groan, which made Ingleborough start up with a wondering look in his eyes.
Once more in the wagon, one ox a pair of despondent prisoners, hot in temper as well as in person with the excitement of what he had so lately gone through, West cast himself down upon the floor ready to groan, while his more experienced, harder comrade sat down cross-legged to think.
“If I only knew where the coat was!” said West, with a groan.
“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough. “I’m afraid it’s gone for ever! That Kaffir was one of the Boers’ slave-like servants, of course, or he wouldn’t have been in the camp; and after the attempt at theft, if he was not too badly wounded, he would bolt right off for his own people. It’s a sad business, old lad: but I don’t think you need fear that it will fall into the Boers’ hands.”
“No, I don’t fear that!” replied West. “But it is the misery and shame of the failure that worries me! I did so mean to succeed!”
“Hah! Yes,” sighed Ingleborough again; “but someone said—hang me if I know who!—‘’Tis not in mortals to command success.’ You’re only a mortal, old fellow, and you must make the best of it.”
West groaned.
“It’s horribly hard; just, too, as I had hatched out a way of escape,” continued Ingleborough.
“I don’t want to escape now.”
“What? You don’t mean to join the Boers as old Fat Face suggested?”
“Why not?” said West dismally. “I dare not go back to Kimberley.”
“You daren’t turn traitor to your country, and, though you feel right down in the dumps, you dare go back to Kimberley and walk straight to the Commandant and speak out like a man, saying: ‘I did my best, sir; but I failed dismally!’”
“Ah!” sighed West.
“And he would reply: ‘Well, it’s a bad job, my lad; but it’s the fortune of war.’”
West held out his hand as he sat there tailor-fashion by his friend in the bottom of the wagon, and there was a warm grip exchanged.
“Bravo, boy! You’re coming round! I knew it. You only wanted time.”
“Thank you, Ingle! Now then, what was your idea of escaping?”
“Oh, a very simple one, but as likely to succeed as to fail.”
“Tell me at once! It will keep me from thinking about that miserable despatch.”
“And the jacket! You and I will have to take turn and turn with mine when the cold nights come, unless we pretend to lovely Anson that we are going to stop, and ask him to get you a fresh covering for your chest and back.”
“Oh, none of that, Ingle! I can’t bear lying subterfuges. I’d sooner bear the cold of the bitter nights.”
“Don’t use big words, lad! Subterfuge, indeed! Saydodge—a war dodge. But about my plan! You have noticed that for some reason they have not taken our ponies away.”
“Yes, they are still tethered to the wheel ox that wagon. What of that? It would be impossible to get to them and ride out unchallenged.”
“Oh no: not my way!”
“What is your way?” said West excitedly.
“Last night was dark as pitch.”
“Yes; but there are double lines of sentries about.”
“With sharp eyes too; but there was a commando rode out, evidently to patrol the country and look out for our people.”
“Yes; I heard them ride away.”
“And I heard them come back at daybreak; but I was too lazy to get up.”
“I don’t see what you are aiming at,” said West wearily; “but I suppose you have some good idea—I hope a plausible one.”
“I think it is, old lad,” said Ingleborough, speaking now in a low whisper. “Suppose when that commando musters after dark—I am supposing that one will go out again to-night—suppose, I say, when it musters we had crept out of the wagon and crawled as far as that one where our ponies are tethered?”
West’s hand stole forward to grip his comrade’s knee.
“Ah, you’re beginning to grasp it!” said Ingleborough. “Then, as I still have my knife, suppose I cut the reins and we mounted.”
“And joined the muster?” said West, in a hoarse whisper.
“It isn’t a dragoon troop, with men answering the roll-call and telling off in fours from the right.”
“No, just a crowd!” said West excitedly.
“Exactly! There’s only one reason why we shouldn’t succeed.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t look rough and blackguardly enough.”
“Oh, Ingle, I quite grasp it now!”
“I’ve been quite aware of that, old lad, for the last minute—that and something else. I don’t know what will have happened when the war is over, but at present I don’t wear a wooden leg. Oh, my knee! I didn’t think your fingers were made of bone.”
“I beg your pardon, old fellow!”
“Don’t name it, lad! I’m very glad you have so much energy in you, and proud of my powers of enduring such a vice-like—or say vicious—grip without holloaing out. Next time try your strength on Anson! Why, your fingers would almost go through his fat.”
“Ingle, we must try it to-night.”
“Or the first opportunity.”
“Why didn’t you think of that before we lost the despatch?”
“Hah! Why didn’t I? Suppose it didn’t come!”
West rose and crept to the end of the wagon and looked out.
“The ponies are still there,” he whispered, and then he started violently, for a voice at the other end of the wagon cried: “Hallo, you two!”
West turned, with his heart sinking, convinced that the man must have heard.
“I’m just off sentry!” the Boer said good-humouredly. “I must have shaved that Kaffir somewhere and not hurt him much. As soon as I was relieved I went and had a good look for him; but there wasn’t so much as a drop of blood.”
“Poor wretch!” thought West.
“Lucky for him!” said Ingleborough, in Dutch.
“But I made the beggar drop the jacket,” said the Boer, laughing; and, to the delight of the prisoners, he sent it flying into the wagon.
That was all, and the sentry strode away, just as West bounded upon the recovered garment like a tiger upon its prey.
“Say bless him!” whispered Ingleborough.
“Oh, Ingle!” groaned his companion, in a choking voice: “I can feel the despatch quite safe.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Ingleborough.
“And such a little while ago I was ready to curse fate and the very hour I was born!”
“And very wrong of you too, my son!” said Ingleborough, in tones which betrayed some emotion. “Cursing’s a very bad habit, and only belongs to times when wicked old men lived in old-fashioned plays and indulged in it upon all kinds of occasions, especially when they had sons and daughters who wanted to marry somebody else.”
“Oh, Ingle! Oh, Ingle! The sky doesn’t look so covered with black clouds now.”
“By no means, my lad! I can see enough blue sky to make a Dutchman a pair of breeches—for Dutchman let’s say Boer. I say, what do you say to going out on patrol to-night?”
“Yes, yes, of course! But we have no guns!”
“Nor bandoliers, and that’s a fact! Well, it’s of no use to think of getting our own back again, even if we said we repented and meant to join the Boers at once.”
“They wouldn’t trust us!”
“Too slim! Fools if they did!”
“Then it is hopeless!” said West. “Someone would notice it at once!”
“Yes,” said Ingleborough, “and those were beautiful rifles too. But look here: I could see a way out of the difficulty, only you are so scrupulous. One mustn’t tell a diplomatic fib.”
“I can’t stand telling an outrageous lie, even under stern necessity!” said West, pulling down his jacket after putting it on.
“And you are so horribly honest!”
“Yes,” said West bitterly. “I have not, as Anson declared, been busy buying illicit-diamonds. But why do you say this—what do you mean?”
“I meant that I’d have risked it as soon as it was dark, and crept away to steal a couple of the Boers’ Mausers—just like a cat—mouser after Mauser—I say, what a horrible joke!”
West was silent.
“They say they’re splendid pieces; but it would be a terrible theft, because I should take the bandoliers too.”
West was still silent.
“I say, lad,” whispered Ingleborough, laughing gently: “you couldn’t object to my stealing the rifles that would be used to kill our men.”
“How would you manage?” whispered West.
“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough, relieving his breast of a long pent-up breath, as he looked up at the arched-in wagon-tilt: “this fellow’s very nearly as wicked as I am.”
“Don’t—don’t joke!” said West: “the matter is too serious. How would you manage?”
“Never you mind, old Very Particular! Leave that to me! By the way, though, before I lie down and have a good nap, in case I should be out all night, I don’t think there is the slightest probability of our joining the Boer forces, do you?”
“Not the slightest!” answered West drily. “There’ll be plenty of traitors to their country without us!”
Five minutes later Ingleborough, whose head troubled him more than he owned to, was sleeping soundly, leaving West thinking deeply over the prospects of a daring escape, and every now and then glancing out and across the laager to make sure that the ponies had not been moved, as well as to fix the position of every wagon well in his mind ready for the time when his comrade and he would be stealing across in the dark, and thinking at times that the Boers must be mad to leave their prisoners’ mounts tethered in sight of their temporary prison.
“But they’re altogether mad!” he mused, “or they would never have dared to defy the power of England in the way they have done!”
This thought had hardly passed through his mind when he saw a group of the laager’s occupants come by the prison wagon, each with a couple of well-filled bandoliers crossbelt-fashion over his breast, and rifle slung, making for the range forming one side of the laager. They broke up into twos and threes, and as they approached they unslung their weapons and took off their cartridge-belts to place them beneath the wagon-tilts, while they settled down to prepare a meal before having a rest.
“Just come off duty!” thought the prisoner, and, with his heart beating fast, he sat watching two of the men and then gazing hard at the nearest wagon, piercing in imagination the thick canvas covering spread over the arching-in hoops, and seeing, as he believed, exactly where two Mauser rifles and the Boers’ bandoliers had been laid.
“Why, if it were dark,” he thought, “I could creep out and secure those two rifles as easily as possible—if they were not taken away!”
West’s face turned scarlet, and it was not from the heat of the sun upon the wagon-tilt, nor from the sultry air which passed in from one end and out at the other.
He drew a deep breath and moved towards Ingleborough to tell him of the burning thoughts within him; but his comrade was sleeping so peacefully that he shrank from awakening him.
“He’ll want all his strength!” thought West, and then he fell to wondering whether or not they would succeed.
The plan was so wonderfully simple that it seemed very possible, but—
Yes, there were so many “buts” rising up in the way. The slightest hitch would spoil all, and they would be detected and subjected to the roughest of usage, even if they were not shot. But it was worth the risk, and the thinker’s heart began to beat faster, and his hand stole to the part of his jacket where he had hidden the despatch, and as he did so he mentally saw himself and his companion riding through the darkness with the Boers, and waiting for an opportunity to dash off, taking the enemy so by surprise that they would be off and away and well into the gloom before they could be followed.
Once well mounted, with the open veldt before them, and the darkness for their friend, he felt that it would go hard if they did not escape.
He had come to this point, and was full of a wild exhilaration, feeling at heart that the venture only wanted the dash with which they would infuse it, when his attention was taken up by seeing the Boer leader with about half-a-dozen of his field-cornets pass by the open end of the tent and cross the laager.
He watched them with some anxiety, and then all at once his heart began to sink with a sudden attack of despair, for two of the party went off in front, unfastened the reins by which the two Basuto ponies were tethered to the wagon-wheels, and led them to where the Boer leader and the rest had halted, prior to putting the little animals through their paces as if to test their powers in connection with some object in view.
A castle in the air dashed down into nothingness, and he uttered a low groan, which made Ingleborough start up with a wondering look in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty.How to Escape.“What’s wrong?” said Ingleborough, in a whisper.“Look out at the bottom of the wagon,” was West’s reply.Ingleborough rose to his knees, and at a glance grasped the meaning of his companion’s troubled look.“Going to adopt our little Basutos for their own use, eh?” he said coolly. “Well, I wonder they haven’t done it before! Bah! There are plenty more horses about! What worries me is how I’m to get a couple of rifles and the ammunition. I was rather too cock-a-hoop about that when I talked to you, for these beloved Dutch cuddle up their pieces as if they loved them with all their hearts.”West smiled.“Oh, don’t do that because I said cuddled.”“I smiled because I see the way to get a couple of rifles as soon as it’s dark,” said West, and he told what he had noted.“Then there’s no reason for you to look glum. I’ll get a couple of horses somehow if you’ll get the guns. Here, I’d whistle or sing if I were not afraid of taking the sentry’s attention. We’re all right, lad, and that bit of sleep has taken away the miserable pain in my head which I keep on having since my fall. Now then, what are they going to do with those ponies?”Sitting well back, the prisoners watched all that went on, and saw the ponies mounted and put through their paces by a couple of big Boers of the regular heavy, squat, Dutch build.“Bah! What a shame!” whispered Ingleborough; “it’s murdering the poor little nags. A regular case for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Those fellows want a couple of dray-horses to carry them.”“Yes, and they’ve found it out,” said West softly.For as they looked on they saw the two Boers pull up after a canter up and down the full length of the laager, and then drop clumsily off, with the result that the ponies spread out their legs and indulged in a good shake which nearly dislodged their saddles.Then a couple more of the onlookers tried the little mounts, but stopped after one trot up and down, and a general conversation ensued, resulting in the ponies being led off and tied up again in the same place, making West’s heart beat as fast as if he had been running hard, while all the time he tried to crush down a feeling of elation, lest he should be premature in his hopefulness and be met with a fresh disappointment, for, though he saw the reins fastened in the same places, there was plenty of time before dark for the ponies to be removed.Just then their examination of the Boers’ proceedings was brought to an end by one of their captors bringing the roughly-prepared portion of food that was served out to them every day.It was rough, but good of its kind, for the Boers seemed to like to live well, and they did not stint their prisoners, who, at a word from Ingleborough, fell to at once.“Appetite or no appetite, eat all you can,” he said. “We may have to work very hard to-night, and shall need all our strength.”There was a fair amount left after they had done, and this was carefully tied up ready for taking with them if they were successful that night. After this there was nothing more to be done but to wait till darkness fell, and they sat back watching while the sentry was again changed, when the fresh man visited the wagon, to climb in, look carefully round, and eye them suspiciously before returning to his post.“Does that fellow suspect anything?” whispered West.“Of course; but nothing fresh. He comes on duty under the full impression that we mean to escape if we can, and he feels that if we attempt it his duty is to send a bullet through each of us.”“Then you don’t think he suspects that we are going to make an attempt to-night?”“Pooh! How could he? But look! There goes Anson! Not coming here, is he?”“No: going to his own wagon! I say, Ingle, do you think he has any illicit-diamonds with him?”“I’m sure of it! He could not, according to his nature, have come away without robbing the company somehow. I only wish I had the searching of his wagon! I suppose Norton did not have a chance!”“Yes, look! He has gone to his wagon. Where should you search if you had the chance?”“Not quite sure yet!” said Ingleborough gruffly. “But don’t talk to me. I want to think of something better than diamonds.”“You mean liberty?”“That’s right. And now, once for all, we don’t want to make any more plans: each knows what he has to do, and as soon as it is dark he has to do it.”“No,” said West gravely; “your part must wait until I have managed to get the rifles.”“Well, yes; I must not be in too great a hurry. But I say, wouldn’t it be better for us to go together to the horses, and hide by them or under them till the Boers muster?”“But suppose the sentry takes it into his head to come and examine the wagon, and gives the alarm?”“Oh, don’t suppose anything!” said Ingleborough impatiently. “We must chance a good deal and leave the rest to luck.”West nodded, and fixed his eyes upon the wagon he had previously singled out, noticing that the Boers who occupied it were lying right beneath, sleeping, each with a rolled-up blanket for a rug.A little later he saw a big heavy-looking Kaffir come up, look underneath at the sleepers, and then go off for a short distance, to lie down upon his chest, doubling his arms before him so as to make a resting-place for his forehead, and lying so perfectly motionless that it became evident that he also was asleep.The evening was closing in fast now, and the men began to move about more as if making preparations for some excursion which they had in view.“That looks well!” said Ingleborough. “There’s going to be some movement to-night. All was so still half-an-hour ago that I began to think we should have to put off our attempt.”“Oh, don’t say that!” said West. “Wemustgo!”Further conversation was checked by the coming of the sentry to look in upon them, scowling heavily before he slouched away.Ten minutes or so later the darkness began to fall, increasing so fast that within half-an-hour the laager would have been quite black if it had not been for a lantern inside a wagon here and there; but, in spite of the darkness, the camp began to grow more animated, a buzz of conversation seeming to rise from the wagons like the busy hum of the insects outside.All at once, as Ingleborough was going to draw his companion’s attention to this fact, he felt a hand steal along his arm to grip his hand. Then it was withdrawn, a very faint rustling followed, and the listener felt that he was alone.“Good luck go with him!” he muttered. “I wonder whether he’ll succeed?”Leaning a little forward, he seemed to strain his ears to listen, though he felt that this was absurd, till all at once it struck him that he heard the soft sound of stealthy steps approaching from the other end of the wagon, and, creeping towards the sounds, he felt more than heard two men approaching, and as he got his head over the wagon-box he heard a whisper.“Anson and the sentry!” he said to himself. “The spy, come to find out whether we’re safe. Yes, that was Anson’s whisper! Then we’re done if he brings a lantern and finds me alone.”He paused for a moment or two, asking himself what he should do; and then the idea came.Subsiding into a reclining position, he suddenly gave his thigh a sharp slap and started as if the blow had roused him up.“Don’t go to sleep, stupid!” he said aloud. “One can’t sleep all these awful long nights! Oh dear me, this is precious dull work. I wish we had a lantern and a box of dominoes! I wonder whether there is a box in the laager?”“Bother!” he said, in a low smothered tone, with his hands covering his face. “I wish you wouldn’t! I was dreaming about old Anson and that he’d got ten thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds in a bag aboard his wagon.”“Like enough!” continued Ingleborough, in his natural voice. “Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed. “I should like to serve the beggar out!”“How?” he said, in the smothered sleepy voice.“How? I’ll tell you how it might be done if he had got them. Find out where his wagon is in the laager, and then wait till the sentry’s asleep, and crawl out of this thing, and nobble the lot.”“Rubbish!”“Not it! We could get them easily enough and bring them back here. Nobody would suspect us! But there would be no getting them away! I say, are you asleep again?”“No,” said West quietly. “What’s the matter with you? Are you talking in your sleep? I was afraid to come in, thinking someone was with—”He got no farther, for Ingleborough clapped a hand over his mouth and continued.“Heigho! What bosh one does talk! I wish there wasn’t a blessed diamond in the world!”He removed his hand, and feeling that there was some reason for all this, West said quietly: “Why?”“Why? See what a lot of trouble they cause! This fighting is as much about the diamond-fields as anything, and— Hullo! how you startled me?”It was quite true: he was horribly startled, feeling that their plan was spoiled, for there was a faint sound at the end of the wagon and the door of a lantern was suddenly opened, throwing the light within, and giving the prisoners a glance of the sentry’s and Anson’s faces looking in.“All right?” said the sentry, in his own tongue.“Oh yes, all right!” replied Ingleborough; “but look here: you might as well leave us that lantern! We won’t set fire to the bed-curtains, I promise you!”“No,” said the Boer, and with a chuckle he closed the door of the lantern and walked whistling away to his companion.“Anson!” said West, with his lips close to Ingleborough’s ear.“Yes: the fox! How you startled me! I didn’t hear you come! I was keeping up a sham conversation, for they were stealing down upon us to catch us on the hop! You failed, then, or were you obliged to turn back?”“Neither: I succeeded!”“What? You got the rifles?”“Yes.”“Then they must have seen them when the light was thrown in!”“No,” said West quietly; “they are outside, leaning against the near hind wheel.”“West, lad, this seems too good to be true. How did you manage?”“Easily enough. I had marked down one wagon—the one I pointed out to you while it was light—and as soon as I dropped down from here I went on my hands and knees to crawl towards it. You know what a short distance it was, and by going very slowly I passed two others where the Boers were sitting outside talking. This was easy enough, for they were so much interested in their conversation that they took no notice of any noise I made.”“And they couldn’t see you?”“I couldn’t see them,” replied West; “so, of course, they did not see me.”“Go on.”“I did,” said West, “and then I thought it was all over, for the next wagon faced in another direction, and I saw what I had not seen before—a lantern was hanging in front over the driver’s box, and it sent a dull path of light forward on the ground, and I stopped, for I had to cross that path, and I felt that I must be seen.”“Tut-tut-tut!” clicked Ingleborough.“But after a few moments I recollected how much my drab brown jacket was like the soil, and I determined to risk it.”“And crawled on?”“Yes, but not on my hands and knees. I lay flat on my chest and worked myself along upon my hands and toes. It was only about a dozen yards where it was light, but it seemed like a mile.”“Never mind that!” said Ingleborough impatiently. “You did it unheard?”“Yes; but a man sitting in the wagon suddenly moved when I was half across, and I was about to spring up, thinking that he was searching for his rifle.”“Phew!” whistled Ingleborough softly.“It was well I did not; for directly after, to save getting up and opening his lantern, the Boer struck a match, and as I lay perfectly still, fully expecting to be shot, the whole place seemed to be lit up, and instead of hearing a rifle cocked I smelt a whiff of strong coarse tobacco, and I felt that I was safe.”“Go on and get it over!” whispered Ingleborough. “You are making my hands feel wet.”“I lay some time before I dared to move.”“That you didn’t, for you weren’t gone long.”“Well, it seemed an hour to me: and then I crept on and out of the light into the black darkness again, rose to my hands and knees, wondering whether I was going right, and the next minute my hand rubbed softly against a wagon-wheel, and I knew I was right.”“Bravo!” whispered Ingleborough.“I rose up directly, and began to feel about carefully for the tilt, and once more my heart seemed to rise to my mouth, for from under the wagon there came a dull deep snoring, and I felt it was impossible to do more for fear of being heard.”“But you made a dash for it?”“No: I waited to get my breath, for I was just as if I had been running. But as soon as I could I went on feeling along the edge of the tilt, and then my heart gave a jump, for my hand touched the barrel of a rifle and directly after that of another.”“Hurrah!” panted out Ingleborough, and West went on.“I began to draw the first towards me, but, as soon as I did, to my horror the other began to move, and I felt that if I kept on the second one would fall and wake the sleeping Boers. So I reached up with my other hand, got well hold, and drew both together. But it was terrible work, for they would not come readily, because the bandoliers were hanging to them, and as I pulled I fully expected that something would catch and discharge one of the pieces, to alarm the whole laager for certain, even if it did not kill me. But by lifting and easing and turning the rifles over I at last got the two pieces nearly out, when they suddenly seemed to be held fast, and I stood there gradually getting drenched with perspiration.”“Why, the edge of the tilt must have caught them!” said Ingleborough excitedly.“Yes, that’s what I found to be the case, and by turning them over again they came free, and I was standing by the wheel with what we wanted.”“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough.“But even then I had a chill, for the snoring ceased and the sleeper began to mutter, taking all the strength out of me, till I felt that even if he or they beneath the wagon should rouse up I could escape through the darkness if I was quick.”“So you slung the rifles and bandoliers over your shoulders, went down on your hands and knees, and crept back?”“No, I did not. I felt that there was not time, and that I had better trust to the darkness to escape, so I just shouldered the pieces and stepped out boldly walking across the broad path of light.”“Good; but you should have struck off to your right, so as to get where it would be more feeble.”“I thought of that,” said West quickly; “but I dared not, for fear of missing our wagon. So I walked boldly on, and almost ran against a Boer.”“Tut-tut-tut! Did he stop you?”“No: he just said: ‘Mind where you are coming!’ and passed on.”“Well?” said Ingleborough.“That’s all. I marched along to the wagon here and stood the rifles up before venturing to get in, for I fancied that you were talking in your sleep and would bring the sentry upon us. There, I’ve got the arms, and I don’t want such another job as that.”“Pooh! Nonsense, lad! The game has only just begun! You ought to feel encouraged, for you have learned and taught me how easy the rest of our job will be! Just a little cool pluck, and we shall succeed!”“Very well!” said West. “I’m ready! What next?”“We must lie down and wait till we hear the commando on the stir, and then—”“Yes,” said West softly; “and then?”“Let’s wait and see!”
“What’s wrong?” said Ingleborough, in a whisper.
“Look out at the bottom of the wagon,” was West’s reply.
Ingleborough rose to his knees, and at a glance grasped the meaning of his companion’s troubled look.
“Going to adopt our little Basutos for their own use, eh?” he said coolly. “Well, I wonder they haven’t done it before! Bah! There are plenty more horses about! What worries me is how I’m to get a couple of rifles and the ammunition. I was rather too cock-a-hoop about that when I talked to you, for these beloved Dutch cuddle up their pieces as if they loved them with all their hearts.”
West smiled.
“Oh, don’t do that because I said cuddled.”
“I smiled because I see the way to get a couple of rifles as soon as it’s dark,” said West, and he told what he had noted.
“Then there’s no reason for you to look glum. I’ll get a couple of horses somehow if you’ll get the guns. Here, I’d whistle or sing if I were not afraid of taking the sentry’s attention. We’re all right, lad, and that bit of sleep has taken away the miserable pain in my head which I keep on having since my fall. Now then, what are they going to do with those ponies?”
Sitting well back, the prisoners watched all that went on, and saw the ponies mounted and put through their paces by a couple of big Boers of the regular heavy, squat, Dutch build.
“Bah! What a shame!” whispered Ingleborough; “it’s murdering the poor little nags. A regular case for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Those fellows want a couple of dray-horses to carry them.”
“Yes, and they’ve found it out,” said West softly.
For as they looked on they saw the two Boers pull up after a canter up and down the full length of the laager, and then drop clumsily off, with the result that the ponies spread out their legs and indulged in a good shake which nearly dislodged their saddles.
Then a couple more of the onlookers tried the little mounts, but stopped after one trot up and down, and a general conversation ensued, resulting in the ponies being led off and tied up again in the same place, making West’s heart beat as fast as if he had been running hard, while all the time he tried to crush down a feeling of elation, lest he should be premature in his hopefulness and be met with a fresh disappointment, for, though he saw the reins fastened in the same places, there was plenty of time before dark for the ponies to be removed.
Just then their examination of the Boers’ proceedings was brought to an end by one of their captors bringing the roughly-prepared portion of food that was served out to them every day.
It was rough, but good of its kind, for the Boers seemed to like to live well, and they did not stint their prisoners, who, at a word from Ingleborough, fell to at once.
“Appetite or no appetite, eat all you can,” he said. “We may have to work very hard to-night, and shall need all our strength.”
There was a fair amount left after they had done, and this was carefully tied up ready for taking with them if they were successful that night. After this there was nothing more to be done but to wait till darkness fell, and they sat back watching while the sentry was again changed, when the fresh man visited the wagon, to climb in, look carefully round, and eye them suspiciously before returning to his post.
“Does that fellow suspect anything?” whispered West.
“Of course; but nothing fresh. He comes on duty under the full impression that we mean to escape if we can, and he feels that if we attempt it his duty is to send a bullet through each of us.”
“Then you don’t think he suspects that we are going to make an attempt to-night?”
“Pooh! How could he? But look! There goes Anson! Not coming here, is he?”
“No: going to his own wagon! I say, Ingle, do you think he has any illicit-diamonds with him?”
“I’m sure of it! He could not, according to his nature, have come away without robbing the company somehow. I only wish I had the searching of his wagon! I suppose Norton did not have a chance!”
“Yes, look! He has gone to his wagon. Where should you search if you had the chance?”
“Not quite sure yet!” said Ingleborough gruffly. “But don’t talk to me. I want to think of something better than diamonds.”
“You mean liberty?”
“That’s right. And now, once for all, we don’t want to make any more plans: each knows what he has to do, and as soon as it is dark he has to do it.”
“No,” said West gravely; “your part must wait until I have managed to get the rifles.”
“Well, yes; I must not be in too great a hurry. But I say, wouldn’t it be better for us to go together to the horses, and hide by them or under them till the Boers muster?”
“But suppose the sentry takes it into his head to come and examine the wagon, and gives the alarm?”
“Oh, don’t suppose anything!” said Ingleborough impatiently. “We must chance a good deal and leave the rest to luck.”
West nodded, and fixed his eyes upon the wagon he had previously singled out, noticing that the Boers who occupied it were lying right beneath, sleeping, each with a rolled-up blanket for a rug.
A little later he saw a big heavy-looking Kaffir come up, look underneath at the sleepers, and then go off for a short distance, to lie down upon his chest, doubling his arms before him so as to make a resting-place for his forehead, and lying so perfectly motionless that it became evident that he also was asleep.
The evening was closing in fast now, and the men began to move about more as if making preparations for some excursion which they had in view.
“That looks well!” said Ingleborough. “There’s going to be some movement to-night. All was so still half-an-hour ago that I began to think we should have to put off our attempt.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” said West. “Wemustgo!”
Further conversation was checked by the coming of the sentry to look in upon them, scowling heavily before he slouched away.
Ten minutes or so later the darkness began to fall, increasing so fast that within half-an-hour the laager would have been quite black if it had not been for a lantern inside a wagon here and there; but, in spite of the darkness, the camp began to grow more animated, a buzz of conversation seeming to rise from the wagons like the busy hum of the insects outside.
All at once, as Ingleborough was going to draw his companion’s attention to this fact, he felt a hand steal along his arm to grip his hand. Then it was withdrawn, a very faint rustling followed, and the listener felt that he was alone.
“Good luck go with him!” he muttered. “I wonder whether he’ll succeed?”
Leaning a little forward, he seemed to strain his ears to listen, though he felt that this was absurd, till all at once it struck him that he heard the soft sound of stealthy steps approaching from the other end of the wagon, and, creeping towards the sounds, he felt more than heard two men approaching, and as he got his head over the wagon-box he heard a whisper.
“Anson and the sentry!” he said to himself. “The spy, come to find out whether we’re safe. Yes, that was Anson’s whisper! Then we’re done if he brings a lantern and finds me alone.”
He paused for a moment or two, asking himself what he should do; and then the idea came.
Subsiding into a reclining position, he suddenly gave his thigh a sharp slap and started as if the blow had roused him up.
“Don’t go to sleep, stupid!” he said aloud. “One can’t sleep all these awful long nights! Oh dear me, this is precious dull work. I wish we had a lantern and a box of dominoes! I wonder whether there is a box in the laager?”
“Bother!” he said, in a low smothered tone, with his hands covering his face. “I wish you wouldn’t! I was dreaming about old Anson and that he’d got ten thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds in a bag aboard his wagon.”
“Like enough!” continued Ingleborough, in his natural voice. “Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed. “I should like to serve the beggar out!”
“How?” he said, in the smothered sleepy voice.
“How? I’ll tell you how it might be done if he had got them. Find out where his wagon is in the laager, and then wait till the sentry’s asleep, and crawl out of this thing, and nobble the lot.”
“Rubbish!”
“Not it! We could get them easily enough and bring them back here. Nobody would suspect us! But there would be no getting them away! I say, are you asleep again?”
“No,” said West quietly. “What’s the matter with you? Are you talking in your sleep? I was afraid to come in, thinking someone was with—”
He got no farther, for Ingleborough clapped a hand over his mouth and continued.
“Heigho! What bosh one does talk! I wish there wasn’t a blessed diamond in the world!”
He removed his hand, and feeling that there was some reason for all this, West said quietly: “Why?”
“Why? See what a lot of trouble they cause! This fighting is as much about the diamond-fields as anything, and— Hullo! how you startled me?”
It was quite true: he was horribly startled, feeling that their plan was spoiled, for there was a faint sound at the end of the wagon and the door of a lantern was suddenly opened, throwing the light within, and giving the prisoners a glance of the sentry’s and Anson’s faces looking in.
“All right?” said the sentry, in his own tongue.
“Oh yes, all right!” replied Ingleborough; “but look here: you might as well leave us that lantern! We won’t set fire to the bed-curtains, I promise you!”
“No,” said the Boer, and with a chuckle he closed the door of the lantern and walked whistling away to his companion.
“Anson!” said West, with his lips close to Ingleborough’s ear.
“Yes: the fox! How you startled me! I didn’t hear you come! I was keeping up a sham conversation, for they were stealing down upon us to catch us on the hop! You failed, then, or were you obliged to turn back?”
“Neither: I succeeded!”
“What? You got the rifles?”
“Yes.”
“Then they must have seen them when the light was thrown in!”
“No,” said West quietly; “they are outside, leaning against the near hind wheel.”
“West, lad, this seems too good to be true. How did you manage?”
“Easily enough. I had marked down one wagon—the one I pointed out to you while it was light—and as soon as I dropped down from here I went on my hands and knees to crawl towards it. You know what a short distance it was, and by going very slowly I passed two others where the Boers were sitting outside talking. This was easy enough, for they were so much interested in their conversation that they took no notice of any noise I made.”
“And they couldn’t see you?”
“I couldn’t see them,” replied West; “so, of course, they did not see me.”
“Go on.”
“I did,” said West, “and then I thought it was all over, for the next wagon faced in another direction, and I saw what I had not seen before—a lantern was hanging in front over the driver’s box, and it sent a dull path of light forward on the ground, and I stopped, for I had to cross that path, and I felt that I must be seen.”
“Tut-tut-tut!” clicked Ingleborough.
“But after a few moments I recollected how much my drab brown jacket was like the soil, and I determined to risk it.”
“And crawled on?”
“Yes, but not on my hands and knees. I lay flat on my chest and worked myself along upon my hands and toes. It was only about a dozen yards where it was light, but it seemed like a mile.”
“Never mind that!” said Ingleborough impatiently. “You did it unheard?”
“Yes; but a man sitting in the wagon suddenly moved when I was half across, and I was about to spring up, thinking that he was searching for his rifle.”
“Phew!” whistled Ingleborough softly.
“It was well I did not; for directly after, to save getting up and opening his lantern, the Boer struck a match, and as I lay perfectly still, fully expecting to be shot, the whole place seemed to be lit up, and instead of hearing a rifle cocked I smelt a whiff of strong coarse tobacco, and I felt that I was safe.”
“Go on and get it over!” whispered Ingleborough. “You are making my hands feel wet.”
“I lay some time before I dared to move.”
“That you didn’t, for you weren’t gone long.”
“Well, it seemed an hour to me: and then I crept on and out of the light into the black darkness again, rose to my hands and knees, wondering whether I was going right, and the next minute my hand rubbed softly against a wagon-wheel, and I knew I was right.”
“Bravo!” whispered Ingleborough.
“I rose up directly, and began to feel about carefully for the tilt, and once more my heart seemed to rise to my mouth, for from under the wagon there came a dull deep snoring, and I felt it was impossible to do more for fear of being heard.”
“But you made a dash for it?”
“No: I waited to get my breath, for I was just as if I had been running. But as soon as I could I went on feeling along the edge of the tilt, and then my heart gave a jump, for my hand touched the barrel of a rifle and directly after that of another.”
“Hurrah!” panted out Ingleborough, and West went on.
“I began to draw the first towards me, but, as soon as I did, to my horror the other began to move, and I felt that if I kept on the second one would fall and wake the sleeping Boers. So I reached up with my other hand, got well hold, and drew both together. But it was terrible work, for they would not come readily, because the bandoliers were hanging to them, and as I pulled I fully expected that something would catch and discharge one of the pieces, to alarm the whole laager for certain, even if it did not kill me. But by lifting and easing and turning the rifles over I at last got the two pieces nearly out, when they suddenly seemed to be held fast, and I stood there gradually getting drenched with perspiration.”
“Why, the edge of the tilt must have caught them!” said Ingleborough excitedly.
“Yes, that’s what I found to be the case, and by turning them over again they came free, and I was standing by the wheel with what we wanted.”
“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough.
“But even then I had a chill, for the snoring ceased and the sleeper began to mutter, taking all the strength out of me, till I felt that even if he or they beneath the wagon should rouse up I could escape through the darkness if I was quick.”
“So you slung the rifles and bandoliers over your shoulders, went down on your hands and knees, and crept back?”
“No, I did not. I felt that there was not time, and that I had better trust to the darkness to escape, so I just shouldered the pieces and stepped out boldly walking across the broad path of light.”
“Good; but you should have struck off to your right, so as to get where it would be more feeble.”
“I thought of that,” said West quickly; “but I dared not, for fear of missing our wagon. So I walked boldly on, and almost ran against a Boer.”
“Tut-tut-tut! Did he stop you?”
“No: he just said: ‘Mind where you are coming!’ and passed on.”
“Well?” said Ingleborough.
“That’s all. I marched along to the wagon here and stood the rifles up before venturing to get in, for I fancied that you were talking in your sleep and would bring the sentry upon us. There, I’ve got the arms, and I don’t want such another job as that.”
“Pooh! Nonsense, lad! The game has only just begun! You ought to feel encouraged, for you have learned and taught me how easy the rest of our job will be! Just a little cool pluck, and we shall succeed!”
“Very well!” said West. “I’m ready! What next?”
“We must lie down and wait till we hear the commando on the stir, and then—”
“Yes,” said West softly; “and then?”
“Let’s wait and see!”
Chapter Twenty One.Everything comes to the man who waits.What seemed like a couple of the weariest hours they had ever passed went slowly by, with everything quite still in the laager; and at last West, who was lying on his back, side by side with his companion, whispered: “They’re not going on patrol to-night. We must creep out and escape on foot.”“Without knowing the way through the entrance among the rocks, and with dozens of sentries about? Can’t be done!”“Pst!” whispered West, for his quick hearing had detected the approach of someone, and directly after a light was flashed in under the tilt, a little whispering followed after the dull rays were shut off, and once more there was silence.The pair lay a good five minutes without attempting to move or speak, and then West whispered:“Two sentries.”“No: one and Fathead.”“How do you know? I daren’t look, for fear they should see the gleam of my eyes.”“I could smell him.”“Scented—out here?”“Yes; I believe he’d put some scent on his handkerchief and some pomatum on his hair even if he were going to be shot.”“Hist! Listen,” said West quickly; “they’re on the stir.”Ingleborough started up, for a voice was heard giving an order, and it was as if a stick had suddenly been thrust into a beehive and stirred round.“Right!” said Ingleborough, in a low tone. “Now’s our time! Take a long deep breath, and let’s make the plunge. It will be all right if you keep close to me!”West instinctively drew a long breath without thinking of his companion’s advice, for it was to him like a reflection of old boyish days when he summoned up his courage to take a plunge into deep water while wanting faith in his powers as a swimmer. But it was only the making of the plunge.Following Ingleborough, he dropped off the end of the wagon, boldly led him to the rifles, and together in the darkness they slipped on the bandoliers, two each, crossbelt-fashion, slung their rifles behind, put on their broad felt hats well down over their eyes, and then, imitating the Boer’s heavy slouching walk, they hurried on through the laager in the direction of the horses.It was, if possible, darker than ever, and they passed several Boers, quite half of whom were leading horses, and one of them startled and encouraged them by growling out in Dutch: “Now then—look sharp, my lads!”“We will!” whispered Ingleborough, as soon as they had passed on; “but oh, if the ponies are gone!”In another minute they knew that they were still safely tethered as they had seen them last, while a little search at the end of the empty wagon brought busy hands in contact with their saddles and bridles.“Oh, it’s mere child’s play!” whispered Ingleborough, as they hurried back to the ponies, which recognised their voices and readily yielded to being petted, standing firm while the saddles were clapped on and they were girthed.“Ready?” said West.“Yes. Shall we lead them to where the muster is being made?”“No; let’s mount and ride boldly up!” said West.The next minute they were in the saddle, and, stirred by the natural instinct to join a gathering of their own kind, both ponies neighed and ambled towards the spot where about fifty men were collected, some few mounted, others holding their bridles ready for the order to start.There was a startler for West, though, just as they were riding towards the gathering patrol, one which communicated itself to Ingleborough, for all at once out of the darkness on their left a voice exclaimed: “Here, Piet, have you moved my rifle?”“No,” came back.Then after a pause: “Here, what does this mean? Mine’s not where I left it! Come, no nonsense! We may want them at any time! You shouldn’t play tricks like this; it might mean a man’s life!”The intending fugitives heard no more, their horses hurrying them from the spot, expecting to hear an alarm raised at any moment; but this did not occur.It was too dark for the recognition of faces, and the men were for the most part sleepy and out of humour at being roused up, so that they were very silent, thinking more of themselves than of their fellows.There was one trifling episode, though, which was startling for the moment, for West’s pony, being skittish after days of inaction, began to make feints of biting its nearest neighbour, with the result that the latter’s rider struck at it fiercely and rapped out an angry oath on two in company with an enquiry delivered in a fierce tone as to who the something or another West was that he could not keep his pony still.Fortunately, and setting aside all necessity for a reply, a hoarse order was given, causing a little confusion, as every dismounted man climbed into his saddle, and the next moment there was a second order to advance, when the leading couple went forward and the rest followed, dropping naturally into pairs, fortunately without West and his companion being separated.Then began the loud clattering of hoofs upon the stony way, while they wound in and out amongst ponderous blocks of granite and ironstone, trusting to the leading horses, whose riders were warned of danger in the darkness by the sentries stationed here and there.Before they were half-way clear from the rocks of the kopje, both West and Ingleborough were fully convinced that to have attempted to escape on foot in the darkness must have resulted in failure, while minute by minute their confidence increased in the ultimate result of their ruse, for it was evident that the couple of Boers next to them in front and in rear could have no more idea of who they were than they could gain of their neighbours.For every man’s time was fully taken up in providing for his own and his mount’s safety—much more in seeking his own, for the sure-footed ponies were pretty well accustomed to looking after themselves in patches of country such as in their own half-wild state they were accustomed to seek for the sake of the lush growth to be found bordering upon the sources of the streams.There was not much conversation going on, only the exchange of a few hoarse grunts from time to time, sufficient, however, to encourage the two prisoners to think that they might venture upon an observation or two in Boer-Dutch, both imitating their captors’ tones and roughness as far as they could. But they did not venture upon much, and carefully avoided whispers as being likely to excite suspicion.“Have you any plans as to the next start?” said West.“Only that we should go off north-west as soon as we are well on the open veldt, and gallop as hard as we can go.”“Which is north-west?”“Hang me if I have the slightest idea! Have you?”“No. But it does not matter. Let’s get clear away if we can, and shape our course afterwards when the sun rises.”“Capital plan! Anything more?”“I’ve been thinking,” answered West, “that if we turn off suddenly together the whole troop will go in pursuit at once, and then it will be the race to the swiftest.”“Of course! It always is!”“Oh no,” said West drily; “not always: the most cunning generally wins.”“Very well, then we shall win, for we are more cunning than these dunder-headed Boers.”They rode on in silence after this for a few minutes, gradually feeling that they were on level ground, over which the ponies ambled easily enough; but they could not see thirty yards in any direction.“Look here,” said Ingleborough gruffly: “you’ve some dodge up your sleeve! What is it?”“Only this,” replied West; “I’ve been thinking that if we can get a hundred yards’ clear start, and then strike off to right or left, we can laugh at pursuit, for they will have lost sight of us and will not know which way to pursue.”“Yes, that’s right enough, but how are you going to get your hundred yards’ start?”“I’ll tell you how I think it can be done,” and, bending over towards his companion, West mumbled out a few words in the darkness and Ingleborough listened and uttered a low grunt as soon as his friend had finished.Then there was utter silence, broken only by the dull clattering sound of the horses’ hoofs upon the soft dusty earth, West listening the while in the black darkness till he heard Ingleborough upon his left make a rustling noise caused by the bringing round and unslinging of his rifle, followed by the loading and then the softly cocking of the piece.“Ready?” said Ingleborough, at last.“Yes,” was the reply.“Then one—two—three—and away!” said Ingleborough softly.At the first word West began to bear upon his horse’s rein, drawing its head round to the right, and at the last he drove his heels sharply into the pony’s flanks and wrenched its head round so suddenly that the startled little beast made a tremendous bound off towards the open veldt, its sudden action having a stunning and confusing effect upon the line of Boers.“Hi! stop!” roared Ingleborough directly, shouting in the Boer-Dutch tongue, while as West tore on his companion stood up in his stirrups, fired two shots after him in succession, and then with another shout he set spurs to his pony and dashed off as fast as his mount would go.The fugitives plunged one after the other into the darkness on the little column’s flank, and the burghers saw them for a few moments ere they disappeared and their ponies’ hoofs began to sound dull before they recovered from the stupor of astonishment the suddenness of the incident had caused.Then a voice shouted fiercely: “A deserter! Fire and bring him down!”“No: stop!” shouted the leader, in a stentorian voice. “Do you want to shoot your faithful brother?”There was a murmur of agreement at this, and the rustle and rattle of rifles being unslung stopped at once.“Who is the burgher who followed the traitor?” continued the leader.There was no reply, only a low muttering of voices as the Boers questioned one another.“Wait,” continued the officer in command. “I daresay our brother has wounded him and will bring him back in a few minutes.”The Boers waited with their little force drawn up in line and facing the black far-stretching veldt, every man wondering which two of their party had been traitor and pursuer, and naturally waited in vain.
What seemed like a couple of the weariest hours they had ever passed went slowly by, with everything quite still in the laager; and at last West, who was lying on his back, side by side with his companion, whispered: “They’re not going on patrol to-night. We must creep out and escape on foot.”
“Without knowing the way through the entrance among the rocks, and with dozens of sentries about? Can’t be done!”
“Pst!” whispered West, for his quick hearing had detected the approach of someone, and directly after a light was flashed in under the tilt, a little whispering followed after the dull rays were shut off, and once more there was silence.
The pair lay a good five minutes without attempting to move or speak, and then West whispered:
“Two sentries.”
“No: one and Fathead.”
“How do you know? I daren’t look, for fear they should see the gleam of my eyes.”
“I could smell him.”
“Scented—out here?”
“Yes; I believe he’d put some scent on his handkerchief and some pomatum on his hair even if he were going to be shot.”
“Hist! Listen,” said West quickly; “they’re on the stir.”
Ingleborough started up, for a voice was heard giving an order, and it was as if a stick had suddenly been thrust into a beehive and stirred round.
“Right!” said Ingleborough, in a low tone. “Now’s our time! Take a long deep breath, and let’s make the plunge. It will be all right if you keep close to me!”
West instinctively drew a long breath without thinking of his companion’s advice, for it was to him like a reflection of old boyish days when he summoned up his courage to take a plunge into deep water while wanting faith in his powers as a swimmer. But it was only the making of the plunge.
Following Ingleborough, he dropped off the end of the wagon, boldly led him to the rifles, and together in the darkness they slipped on the bandoliers, two each, crossbelt-fashion, slung their rifles behind, put on their broad felt hats well down over their eyes, and then, imitating the Boer’s heavy slouching walk, they hurried on through the laager in the direction of the horses.
It was, if possible, darker than ever, and they passed several Boers, quite half of whom were leading horses, and one of them startled and encouraged them by growling out in Dutch: “Now then—look sharp, my lads!”
“We will!” whispered Ingleborough, as soon as they had passed on; “but oh, if the ponies are gone!”
In another minute they knew that they were still safely tethered as they had seen them last, while a little search at the end of the empty wagon brought busy hands in contact with their saddles and bridles.
“Oh, it’s mere child’s play!” whispered Ingleborough, as they hurried back to the ponies, which recognised their voices and readily yielded to being petted, standing firm while the saddles were clapped on and they were girthed.
“Ready?” said West.
“Yes. Shall we lead them to where the muster is being made?”
“No; let’s mount and ride boldly up!” said West.
The next minute they were in the saddle, and, stirred by the natural instinct to join a gathering of their own kind, both ponies neighed and ambled towards the spot where about fifty men were collected, some few mounted, others holding their bridles ready for the order to start.
There was a startler for West, though, just as they were riding towards the gathering patrol, one which communicated itself to Ingleborough, for all at once out of the darkness on their left a voice exclaimed: “Here, Piet, have you moved my rifle?”
“No,” came back.
Then after a pause: “Here, what does this mean? Mine’s not where I left it! Come, no nonsense! We may want them at any time! You shouldn’t play tricks like this; it might mean a man’s life!”
The intending fugitives heard no more, their horses hurrying them from the spot, expecting to hear an alarm raised at any moment; but this did not occur.
It was too dark for the recognition of faces, and the men were for the most part sleepy and out of humour at being roused up, so that they were very silent, thinking more of themselves than of their fellows.
There was one trifling episode, though, which was startling for the moment, for West’s pony, being skittish after days of inaction, began to make feints of biting its nearest neighbour, with the result that the latter’s rider struck at it fiercely and rapped out an angry oath on two in company with an enquiry delivered in a fierce tone as to who the something or another West was that he could not keep his pony still.
Fortunately, and setting aside all necessity for a reply, a hoarse order was given, causing a little confusion, as every dismounted man climbed into his saddle, and the next moment there was a second order to advance, when the leading couple went forward and the rest followed, dropping naturally into pairs, fortunately without West and his companion being separated.
Then began the loud clattering of hoofs upon the stony way, while they wound in and out amongst ponderous blocks of granite and ironstone, trusting to the leading horses, whose riders were warned of danger in the darkness by the sentries stationed here and there.
Before they were half-way clear from the rocks of the kopje, both West and Ingleborough were fully convinced that to have attempted to escape on foot in the darkness must have resulted in failure, while minute by minute their confidence increased in the ultimate result of their ruse, for it was evident that the couple of Boers next to them in front and in rear could have no more idea of who they were than they could gain of their neighbours.
For every man’s time was fully taken up in providing for his own and his mount’s safety—much more in seeking his own, for the sure-footed ponies were pretty well accustomed to looking after themselves in patches of country such as in their own half-wild state they were accustomed to seek for the sake of the lush growth to be found bordering upon the sources of the streams.
There was not much conversation going on, only the exchange of a few hoarse grunts from time to time, sufficient, however, to encourage the two prisoners to think that they might venture upon an observation or two in Boer-Dutch, both imitating their captors’ tones and roughness as far as they could. But they did not venture upon much, and carefully avoided whispers as being likely to excite suspicion.
“Have you any plans as to the next start?” said West.
“Only that we should go off north-west as soon as we are well on the open veldt, and gallop as hard as we can go.”
“Which is north-west?”
“Hang me if I have the slightest idea! Have you?”
“No. But it does not matter. Let’s get clear away if we can, and shape our course afterwards when the sun rises.”
“Capital plan! Anything more?”
“I’ve been thinking,” answered West, “that if we turn off suddenly together the whole troop will go in pursuit at once, and then it will be the race to the swiftest.”
“Of course! It always is!”
“Oh no,” said West drily; “not always: the most cunning generally wins.”
“Very well, then we shall win, for we are more cunning than these dunder-headed Boers.”
They rode on in silence after this for a few minutes, gradually feeling that they were on level ground, over which the ponies ambled easily enough; but they could not see thirty yards in any direction.
“Look here,” said Ingleborough gruffly: “you’ve some dodge up your sleeve! What is it?”
“Only this,” replied West; “I’ve been thinking that if we can get a hundred yards’ clear start, and then strike off to right or left, we can laugh at pursuit, for they will have lost sight of us and will not know which way to pursue.”
“Yes, that’s right enough, but how are you going to get your hundred yards’ start?”
“I’ll tell you how I think it can be done,” and, bending over towards his companion, West mumbled out a few words in the darkness and Ingleborough listened and uttered a low grunt as soon as his friend had finished.
Then there was utter silence, broken only by the dull clattering sound of the horses’ hoofs upon the soft dusty earth, West listening the while in the black darkness till he heard Ingleborough upon his left make a rustling noise caused by the bringing round and unslinging of his rifle, followed by the loading and then the softly cocking of the piece.
“Ready?” said Ingleborough, at last.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Then one—two—three—and away!” said Ingleborough softly.
At the first word West began to bear upon his horse’s rein, drawing its head round to the right, and at the last he drove his heels sharply into the pony’s flanks and wrenched its head round so suddenly that the startled little beast made a tremendous bound off towards the open veldt, its sudden action having a stunning and confusing effect upon the line of Boers.
“Hi! stop!” roared Ingleborough directly, shouting in the Boer-Dutch tongue, while as West tore on his companion stood up in his stirrups, fired two shots after him in succession, and then with another shout he set spurs to his pony and dashed off as fast as his mount would go.
The fugitives plunged one after the other into the darkness on the little column’s flank, and the burghers saw them for a few moments ere they disappeared and their ponies’ hoofs began to sound dull before they recovered from the stupor of astonishment the suddenness of the incident had caused.
Then a voice shouted fiercely: “A deserter! Fire and bring him down!”
“No: stop!” shouted the leader, in a stentorian voice. “Do you want to shoot your faithful brother?”
There was a murmur of agreement at this, and the rustle and rattle of rifles being unslung stopped at once.
“Who is the burgher who followed the traitor?” continued the leader.
There was no reply, only a low muttering of voices as the Boers questioned one another.
“Wait,” continued the officer in command. “I daresay our brother has wounded him and will bring him back in a few minutes.”
The Boers waited with their little force drawn up in line and facing the black far-stretching veldt, every man wondering which two of their party had been traitor and pursuer, and naturally waited in vain.
Chapter Twenty Two.Query: Freedom?The dash for liberty had been well carried out, West getting his sturdy pony into a swinging gallop before he had gone far, and keeping it up straight away till he could hear Ingleborough’s shout in close pursuit, when he drew rein a little, till in its efforts to rejoin its companion the second pony raced up alongside.“Bravo, West, lad!” panted Ingleborough, in a low tone that sounded terribly loud in their ears, which magnified everything in their excitement. “It’s a pity you are not in the regulars!”“Why?”“You’d soon be a general!”“Rubbish!” said West shortly. “Don’t talk or they’ll be on us! Can you hear them coming?”“No; and I don’t believe they will come! They’ll leave it to me to catch you. I say, I didn’t kill you when I fired, did I?”“No,” said West, with a little laugh, “but you made me jump each time! The sensation was rather queer.”“I took aim at an angle of forty-five degrees with the horizon or thereabouts, to be exact,” said Ingleborough pedantically; “and those two, my first shots with a Mauser rifle, no doubt have travelled a couple of miles at what they call a high trajectory. But what glorious luck!”“Yes; I never dared to hope that the plan would succeed so well.”“Talk about humbugging anyone—why, it was splendid!”“But oughtn’t we to go off at right angles now?” said West anxiously, as he turned himself in his saddle and listened.“Quite time enough to do that when we hear them tearing along in full pursuit, and that will not be to-night.”“Think not?”“I feel sure of it, lad! Of course they can’t hatch it out in their thick skulls that their two prisoners were the actors in this little drama: they can’t know till they get back that we have escaped.”“Of course not.”“And you may depend upon it that they’ll stand fast for about a quarter of an hour waiting for me to come back, either with my prisoner alive or with his scalp—I mean his rifle, ammunition, and pony.”“And when they find that you don’t come back?” said West, laughing to himself.“Then they’ll say that you’ve taken my scalp and gone on home with it: think it is just the fortune of war, and promise themselves that they’ll ride out by daylight to save my body from the Aasvogels and bury it out of sight.”“And by degrees they will put that and that together,” said West, “and find that they have been thoroughly tricked.”“Yes, and poor Anson will distil pearly tears from those beautiful eyes of his, and we shall not be there to see them rolling down his fat cheeks. West, lad, I never yet wanted to kill a man.”“Of course not, and you don’t now!”“That’s quite correct, lad; but I should like to be a grand inquisitor sitting on Master Anson for his renegade ways and superintending in the torture-chamber. My word, shouldn’t he have the question of the water; no, the rack; or better still, the extraction of his nails. Stop a minute: I think hanging from the ceiling by his wrists with a weight attached to his ankles, and a grand finish-off with the question of fire would be more fitting. Bless him for a walking tallow sausage, wouldn’t he burn!”“Ugh! Don’t be such a savage!” cried West angrily. “You wouldn’t do anything of the kind. I should be far more hard-hearted and cruel than you’d be, for I would have him tied up to the wheel of a wagon and set a Kaffir to flog him with a sjambok on his bare back.”“Oh!” exclaimed Ingleborough sharply.“What’s the matter?”“And I’ve come away without having the oily rascal stripped of his plunder.”“What! His diamonds?”“Yes. I know he has a regular pile hidden in that wagon of his, and, what’s more, I know where to look and find them.”“Where?”“Never you mind till the time comes! I have a sort of prescient idea that some day we shall face that fellow again with the circumstances reversed; and then I’m going to have his loot cleared out.”And this and much more as the fugitives cantered easily along through the darkness, giving their ponies their heads and letting them increase the distance more and more, till all at once West broke the silence by exclaiming: “I say, Ingle, is it really true?”“Is what really true—that Master Anson’s a fat beast?”“No, no; that we have escaped and are riding away at full liberty to go where we please? It seems to me like a dream, and that in the morning we shall awake and find ourselves once again in that dreary wagon.”“Partly true, partly imaginary,” said Ingleborough bluntly.“What do you mean?” said West, in a startled tone.“It’s true that we’ve made a jolly clever escape, thanks to you; but it isn’t true that we’re at liberty to go where we like.”“Why not?” said West wonderingly.“Because you’ve got that despatch in your jacket somewhere, I hope.”“Yes,” said West, after running his hand down a seam. “It’s safe enough!”“Well, that despatch says we must go to Mafeking; so we’re prisoners to duty still.”“Of course!” said West cheerily. “But look here: it’s of no use to tire our ponies. We’re far enough off now to let them walk, or dismount and let them graze till we know which way to steer.”“It’s all right; keep on, lad! We’re steering as straight as if we had a compass. I believe the ponies know where we want to go, and took the right line at once.”“Nonsense! You don’t believe anything of the kind. What makes you think we’re going in the right direction?”“Because the clouds yonder thinned out a bit half-an-hour ago, and I saw three dim stars in a sort of arch, and continuing the line there was another brighter one just in the place where it ought to be. I know them as well as can be of old: the big one sets just in the north-west.”“Are you sure of that?” cried West eagerly.“As sure as that I bore off a little to the right as soon as I saw that star, so as to turn more to the north and straight for Mafeking. I don’t guarantee that we are keeping straight for it now the stars are shut out; but we shall know as soon as it’s day by the compass.”“Why don’t we strike a light and examine it now?” said West eagerly.“Because we haven’t a match!” replied Ingleborough. “Didn’t our sturdy honest captors take everything away but my knife, which was luckily in my inner belt along with my money?”“To be sure!” sighed West.“And if we had matches we dare not strike them for fear of the light being seen by one of the Boer patrols.”“Yes,” said West, with another sigh. “I suppose they are everywhere now!”At that moment the ponies stopped short, spun round, almost unseating their riders, and went off at full speed back along the way they had come; and it was some minutes before they could be checked and soothed and patted back into a walk.“The country isn’t quite civilised yet,” said West; “fancy lions being so near the line of a railway. Hark; there he goes again!”For once more the peculiar barking roar of a lion came from a distance, making the air seem to quiver and the ponies turn restless again and begin to snort with dread.“Steady, boys, steady!” said Ingleborough soothingly to the two steeds. “Don’t you know that we’ve got a couple of patent foreign rifles, and that they would be more than a match for any lion that ever lived?”“If we shot straight!” said West banteringly. “There he goes again! How near do you think that fellow is?”“Quiet, boy!” cried Ingleborough, leaning forward and patting his pony on the neck, with satisfactory results. “How far? It’s impossible to say! I’ve heard performers who called themselves ventriloquists, but their tricks are nothing to the roaring of a lion. It’s about the most deceptive sound I know. One time it’s like thunder, and another it’s like Bottom the Weaver.”“Like what?” cried West.“The gentleman I named who played lion, and for fear of frightening the ladies said he would roar him as gently as a sucking dove. Now then, what’s to be done?”“I don’t know,” said West. “We did not calculate upon having lions to act as sentries on behalf of the Boers.”“Let’s bear off more to the north and try to outflank the great cat.”Changing their course, they started to make a half-circle of a couple of miles’ radius, riding steadily on, but only to have their shivering mounts startled again and again till they were ready to give up in despair.“We’d better wait till daybreak,” said West.“There’s no occasion to,” said Ingleborough, “for there it is, coming right behind us, and we’re going too much to the west. Bear off, and let’s ride on. I don’t suppose we shall be troubled any more. What we want now is another kopje—one which hasn’t been turned into a trap.”“There’s what we want!” said West, half-an-hour later, as one of the many clumps of rock and trees loomed up in the fast lightening front.“Yes,” said Ingleborough sharply, “and there’s what we don’t want, far nearer to us than I like.”“Where?” asked West sharply.“Straight behind us!”“Why, Ingle,” cried West, in despair, “they’ve been following us all through the night!”“No,” said Ingleborough, shading his eyes with his hand; “that’s a different patrol, I feel sure, coming from another direction.”“What shall we do?”“Ride straight for that kopje; we’re between it and the patrol, and perhaps they won’t see us. If they do we must gallop away.”“But suppose this kopje proves to be occupied?” said West. “We don’t want to be taken prisoners again.”“That’s the truest speech you’ve made for twenty-four hours, my lad,” said Ingleborough coolly, “but, all the same, that seems to be the wisest thing to do.”“Make for the kopje?”“Yes, for we want water, shelter, and rest.”“But if the Boers are there too?”“Hang it, lad, there aren’t enough of the brutes to occupy every kopje in the country; some of them must be left for poor fellows in such a mess as we are.”“Ride on and chance it then?”“To be sure!” was the reply; and they went on at a steady canter straight for the clump in front, a mile or so away, turning every now and then to watch the line of horsemen which seemed to be going at right angles to their track. Just as they reached the outskirts of the eminence the leading files of the patrol bore off a little and the fugitives had the misery of seeing that the enemy they wished to avoid seemed to be aiming straight for the place they had intended for a refuge, while to have ridden out to right or left meant going full in sight of the patrol.To make matters worse, the sun was beginning to light up the stony tops of the kopje, and in a very few minutes the lower portions would be glowing in the morning rays.“Cheer up!” said Ingleborough; “it’s a big one! Now then, dismount and lead horses! Here’s cover enough to hide in now, and we may be able to get round to the other side without being seen.”“And then?”“Oh, we won’t intrude our company upon the enemy; let’s ride off as fast as we can.”
The dash for liberty had been well carried out, West getting his sturdy pony into a swinging gallop before he had gone far, and keeping it up straight away till he could hear Ingleborough’s shout in close pursuit, when he drew rein a little, till in its efforts to rejoin its companion the second pony raced up alongside.
“Bravo, West, lad!” panted Ingleborough, in a low tone that sounded terribly loud in their ears, which magnified everything in their excitement. “It’s a pity you are not in the regulars!”
“Why?”
“You’d soon be a general!”
“Rubbish!” said West shortly. “Don’t talk or they’ll be on us! Can you hear them coming?”
“No; and I don’t believe they will come! They’ll leave it to me to catch you. I say, I didn’t kill you when I fired, did I?”
“No,” said West, with a little laugh, “but you made me jump each time! The sensation was rather queer.”
“I took aim at an angle of forty-five degrees with the horizon or thereabouts, to be exact,” said Ingleborough pedantically; “and those two, my first shots with a Mauser rifle, no doubt have travelled a couple of miles at what they call a high trajectory. But what glorious luck!”
“Yes; I never dared to hope that the plan would succeed so well.”
“Talk about humbugging anyone—why, it was splendid!”
“But oughtn’t we to go off at right angles now?” said West anxiously, as he turned himself in his saddle and listened.
“Quite time enough to do that when we hear them tearing along in full pursuit, and that will not be to-night.”
“Think not?”
“I feel sure of it, lad! Of course they can’t hatch it out in their thick skulls that their two prisoners were the actors in this little drama: they can’t know till they get back that we have escaped.”
“Of course not.”
“And you may depend upon it that they’ll stand fast for about a quarter of an hour waiting for me to come back, either with my prisoner alive or with his scalp—I mean his rifle, ammunition, and pony.”
“And when they find that you don’t come back?” said West, laughing to himself.
“Then they’ll say that you’ve taken my scalp and gone on home with it: think it is just the fortune of war, and promise themselves that they’ll ride out by daylight to save my body from the Aasvogels and bury it out of sight.”
“And by degrees they will put that and that together,” said West, “and find that they have been thoroughly tricked.”
“Yes, and poor Anson will distil pearly tears from those beautiful eyes of his, and we shall not be there to see them rolling down his fat cheeks. West, lad, I never yet wanted to kill a man.”
“Of course not, and you don’t now!”
“That’s quite correct, lad; but I should like to be a grand inquisitor sitting on Master Anson for his renegade ways and superintending in the torture-chamber. My word, shouldn’t he have the question of the water; no, the rack; or better still, the extraction of his nails. Stop a minute: I think hanging from the ceiling by his wrists with a weight attached to his ankles, and a grand finish-off with the question of fire would be more fitting. Bless him for a walking tallow sausage, wouldn’t he burn!”
“Ugh! Don’t be such a savage!” cried West angrily. “You wouldn’t do anything of the kind. I should be far more hard-hearted and cruel than you’d be, for I would have him tied up to the wheel of a wagon and set a Kaffir to flog him with a sjambok on his bare back.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Ingleborough sharply.
“What’s the matter?”
“And I’ve come away without having the oily rascal stripped of his plunder.”
“What! His diamonds?”
“Yes. I know he has a regular pile hidden in that wagon of his, and, what’s more, I know where to look and find them.”
“Where?”
“Never you mind till the time comes! I have a sort of prescient idea that some day we shall face that fellow again with the circumstances reversed; and then I’m going to have his loot cleared out.”
And this and much more as the fugitives cantered easily along through the darkness, giving their ponies their heads and letting them increase the distance more and more, till all at once West broke the silence by exclaiming: “I say, Ingle, is it really true?”
“Is what really true—that Master Anson’s a fat beast?”
“No, no; that we have escaped and are riding away at full liberty to go where we please? It seems to me like a dream, and that in the morning we shall awake and find ourselves once again in that dreary wagon.”
“Partly true, partly imaginary,” said Ingleborough bluntly.
“What do you mean?” said West, in a startled tone.
“It’s true that we’ve made a jolly clever escape, thanks to you; but it isn’t true that we’re at liberty to go where we like.”
“Why not?” said West wonderingly.
“Because you’ve got that despatch in your jacket somewhere, I hope.”
“Yes,” said West, after running his hand down a seam. “It’s safe enough!”
“Well, that despatch says we must go to Mafeking; so we’re prisoners to duty still.”
“Of course!” said West cheerily. “But look here: it’s of no use to tire our ponies. We’re far enough off now to let them walk, or dismount and let them graze till we know which way to steer.”
“It’s all right; keep on, lad! We’re steering as straight as if we had a compass. I believe the ponies know where we want to go, and took the right line at once.”
“Nonsense! You don’t believe anything of the kind. What makes you think we’re going in the right direction?”
“Because the clouds yonder thinned out a bit half-an-hour ago, and I saw three dim stars in a sort of arch, and continuing the line there was another brighter one just in the place where it ought to be. I know them as well as can be of old: the big one sets just in the north-west.”
“Are you sure of that?” cried West eagerly.
“As sure as that I bore off a little to the right as soon as I saw that star, so as to turn more to the north and straight for Mafeking. I don’t guarantee that we are keeping straight for it now the stars are shut out; but we shall know as soon as it’s day by the compass.”
“Why don’t we strike a light and examine it now?” said West eagerly.
“Because we haven’t a match!” replied Ingleborough. “Didn’t our sturdy honest captors take everything away but my knife, which was luckily in my inner belt along with my money?”
“To be sure!” sighed West.
“And if we had matches we dare not strike them for fear of the light being seen by one of the Boer patrols.”
“Yes,” said West, with another sigh. “I suppose they are everywhere now!”
At that moment the ponies stopped short, spun round, almost unseating their riders, and went off at full speed back along the way they had come; and it was some minutes before they could be checked and soothed and patted back into a walk.
“The country isn’t quite civilised yet,” said West; “fancy lions being so near the line of a railway. Hark; there he goes again!”
For once more the peculiar barking roar of a lion came from a distance, making the air seem to quiver and the ponies turn restless again and begin to snort with dread.
“Steady, boys, steady!” said Ingleborough soothingly to the two steeds. “Don’t you know that we’ve got a couple of patent foreign rifles, and that they would be more than a match for any lion that ever lived?”
“If we shot straight!” said West banteringly. “There he goes again! How near do you think that fellow is?”
“Quiet, boy!” cried Ingleborough, leaning forward and patting his pony on the neck, with satisfactory results. “How far? It’s impossible to say! I’ve heard performers who called themselves ventriloquists, but their tricks are nothing to the roaring of a lion. It’s about the most deceptive sound I know. One time it’s like thunder, and another it’s like Bottom the Weaver.”
“Like what?” cried West.
“The gentleman I named who played lion, and for fear of frightening the ladies said he would roar him as gently as a sucking dove. Now then, what’s to be done?”
“I don’t know,” said West. “We did not calculate upon having lions to act as sentries on behalf of the Boers.”
“Let’s bear off more to the north and try to outflank the great cat.”
Changing their course, they started to make a half-circle of a couple of miles’ radius, riding steadily on, but only to have their shivering mounts startled again and again till they were ready to give up in despair.
“We’d better wait till daybreak,” said West.
“There’s no occasion to,” said Ingleborough, “for there it is, coming right behind us, and we’re going too much to the west. Bear off, and let’s ride on. I don’t suppose we shall be troubled any more. What we want now is another kopje—one which hasn’t been turned into a trap.”
“There’s what we want!” said West, half-an-hour later, as one of the many clumps of rock and trees loomed up in the fast lightening front.
“Yes,” said Ingleborough sharply, “and there’s what we don’t want, far nearer to us than I like.”
“Where?” asked West sharply.
“Straight behind us!”
“Why, Ingle,” cried West, in despair, “they’ve been following us all through the night!”
“No,” said Ingleborough, shading his eyes with his hand; “that’s a different patrol, I feel sure, coming from another direction.”
“What shall we do?”
“Ride straight for that kopje; we’re between it and the patrol, and perhaps they won’t see us. If they do we must gallop away.”
“But suppose this kopje proves to be occupied?” said West. “We don’t want to be taken prisoners again.”
“That’s the truest speech you’ve made for twenty-four hours, my lad,” said Ingleborough coolly, “but, all the same, that seems to be the wisest thing to do.”
“Make for the kopje?”
“Yes, for we want water, shelter, and rest.”
“But if the Boers are there too?”
“Hang it, lad, there aren’t enough of the brutes to occupy every kopje in the country; some of them must be left for poor fellows in such a mess as we are.”
“Ride on and chance it then?”
“To be sure!” was the reply; and they went on at a steady canter straight for the clump in front, a mile or so away, turning every now and then to watch the line of horsemen which seemed to be going at right angles to their track. Just as they reached the outskirts of the eminence the leading files of the patrol bore off a little and the fugitives had the misery of seeing that the enemy they wished to avoid seemed to be aiming straight for the place they had intended for a refuge, while to have ridden out to right or left meant going full in sight of the patrol.
To make matters worse, the sun was beginning to light up the stony tops of the kopje, and in a very few minutes the lower portions would be glowing in the morning rays.
“Cheer up!” said Ingleborough; “it’s a big one! Now then, dismount and lead horses! Here’s cover enough to hide in now, and we may be able to get round to the other side without being seen.”
“And then?”
“Oh, we won’t intrude our company upon the enemy; let’s ride off as fast as we can.”