Chapter Ten.Anson’s Blessing.“Bless ’em!” said Anson to himself that same evening, “I don’t wish ’em any harm. I only hope that before they’ve gone far the Boers will challenge them.“I can almost see it now: getting dark, and an outpost challenges. ‘Come on, gallop!’ says old Ingle, and they stick their spurs into their nags and are off over the veldt. Thencrack, cracky crack, go the rifles till the saddles are emptied and two gallant defenders of Kimberley and brave despatch-riders lie kicking in the dust.“Ugh! How. I should like to be there with my flute. I’d stand and look on till they’d given their last kick and stretched themselves out straight, and then I’d play the ‘Dead March’ in ‘Saul’ all over ’em both. Don’t suppose they’d know; but if they could hear it they wouldn’t sneer at my ‘tootling old flute’—as Ingle called it—any more.“Urrrr! I hated the pair of ’em. Ingle was a hound—a regular sniffing, smelling-out hound, and Noll West a miserable, sneaking cur. Beasts! So very good and nice and straightforward. Hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth—yes, millions’ worth of diamonds being scraped together by the company, and a poor fellow not allowed to have a handful. I don’t say it’s the thing to steal ’em; but who would steal? Just a bit of nice honest trade—buy in the cheapest market and sell in the dearest. It’s what the company does, but nobody else ought to, of course. Who’s going to ask every Kaffir who comes to you and says: ‘Buy a few stones, baas?’ ‘Where do you get ’em from?’ Not me. They’ve as good a right to ’em as the company, and if I like to do a bit of honest trade I will, in spite of the miserable laws they make. Hang their laws! What are they to me? Illicit-diamond-buying! Police force, eh? A snap of the fingers for it!“A bit sooner than I expected,” mused the flute-player. “A few months more, and I should have made a very big thing if the Boers hadn’t upset it all and Master Ingle hadn’t been so precious clever! Never mind: it isn’t so very bad now! I’ll be off while my shoes are good. I don’t believe the Boers have got round to the south yet, and, if they have, I don’t believe it’ll matter. Say they do stop me, it’ll only be: ‘Who are you—and where are you going?’ Down south or west or anywhere, to do a bit of trade. I’m sloping off—that’s what I’m doing—because the British are trying to force me to volunteer to fight against my old friends the Boers. I’ll soft-soap and butter ’em all over, and play ’em a tune or two upon the flute, and offer ’em some good tobacco. They won’t stop me.”The quiet, plump, thoughtful-looking muser was on his way to a farm just beyond the outskirts of Kimberley, as he walked slowly through the darkness, hardly passing a soul; and he rubbed his hands softly at last as he came in sight of a dim gleaming lantern some distance ahead.“All ready and waiting,” he said softly, and now he increased his pace a little in his excitement, but only to stop short and look back once or twice as if to make sure that he was not followed. But, neither seeing nor hearing anything, he rubbed his hands again, muttered to himself something about wiping his shoes of the whole place, and went on quickly.“Das you, baas?” said a thick guttural voice just above the lantern.“Yes, this is me,” replied Anson. “Team in-spanned?”“Yaas, baas: big long time ago. Not tink baas come.”“But I said I would,” replied Anson. “Got the water-barrel slung underneath?”The man grunted, Anson gave an order or two in a low tone, and in response to a shout a dimly-seen team of great bullocks roughly harnessed to the dissel boom and trek tow of a long covered-in wagon began to trudge slowly along over the rough track which led to the main road leading south. A second man led the way, while the Kaffir with the light swung himself up onto the great box in front of the wagon and drew out an unusually long whip, after hanging his horn lantern to a hook in the middle of the arched tilt over his head.“Baas come alon’ heah?” said the man.“No, go on, and I’ll walk behind for a bit,” said Anson, in a low tone of voice. “Go on quietly, and keep off the track. Go straight away till I tell you to turn off.”The Kaffir grunted, and the oxen plodded on at their slow two-mile-an-hour rate, leaving the last sign of occupation far behind, Anson twice over giving instructions to the man who was leading which way to steer, the result being that the creaking wagon was driven right away south and west over the open veldt, avoiding the various farms and places till Kimberley was left far behind.It was a bright starlit night, and the long procession of big bullocks looked weird and strange in the gloom, for at times they seemed to be drawing nothing, so closely did the tilt of the great lightly-loaded wagon assimilate with the drab dusty tint of the parched earth and the dusky-coloured scrub which the great wheels crushed down.The driver sat on the box with his huge whip, his shoulders well up and his head down, driving mechanically, and seeming to be asleep, while the voorlooper kept pace with the leading oxen, and hour after hour passed away without a word being spoken.So the night wore on, the only watchful eyes being those of Anson, who kept on straining them forward right and left, while his ears twitched as he listened for the sounds which he knew would be uttered by a Boer vedette.But no challenge came, and the fugitive breathed more freely as the stars paled, a long, low, sickly streak began to spread in the east, and the distance of the wide-spreading desolate veldt grew more clear.“I knew they wouldn’t be on the look-out,” said Anson to himself, in an exulting fashion. “Hah! I’m all right, and I wonder how West and Ingle have got on.”It was growing broad daylight when the thoughtful-looking ex-clerk climbed up to the side of the driver.“How far to the fontein?” he said.“One hour, baas,” was the reply.“Is there plenty of grass?”“Plenty, baas. Bullock much eat and drink.”The information proved quite correct, for within the specified time—the team having stepped out more readily, guided as they were by their instinct to where water, grass, and rest awaited them—and soon after the great orange globe had risen above what looked like the rim of the world, the wagon was pulled up at the edge of a broad crack in the dusty plain, where the bottom of the spruit could be seen full of rich green grass besprinkled with flowers, through which ran the clear waters of an abundant stream.A fire was soon lighted, a billy hung over it to boil, and Anson, after watching the team, which had dragged their load so well and so far, munching away at the juicy grass, began to get out the necessaries connected with his own meal.“Hah!” he said softly, as he rubbed his hands; “sorry I haven’t got my two fellow-clerks to breakfast: it would have been so nice and Ugh!” he growled, shading his eyes to give a final look round, for there in the distance, evidently following the track by which he had come through the night, there was a little knot of horsemen cantering along, and from time to time there came a flash of light caused by the horizontal beams of the sun striking upon rifle-barrel or sword.Anson’s hands dropped to his sides, and he looked to right, left, and behind him as if meditating flight. Then his eyes went in the direction of his oxen, freshly outspanned, but he turned frowningly away as he felt that even with the team already in their places, the lumbering bullocks could not have been forced into a speed which the horses could not have overtaken in a few yards at a canter.Then he shaded his eyes again to have a good look at the party of horsemen.“Police,” he said, in a hiss. “Yes, and that’s Norton.Hfff!”He drew in his breath, making a peculiar sound, and then, as if satisfied with the course he meant to pursue, he went back to the fire and continued his preparations for his meal, apparently paying no heed to the party of mounted police till they cantered up and came to a halt by the wagon.“Hallo, constables!” cried Anson boisterously; “who’d have thought of seeing—Why, it’s you, Mr Norton!”“Yes,” said the superintendent. “You seem surprised!”“Why, of course I am. Got something on the way? Anyone been smuggling stones?”“Yes,” said the officer shortly.“Sorry for them then, for I suppose you mean to catch ’em.”“I do,” said the officer warningly.“That’s right; I’m just going to have some breakfast: will you have a snack with me?”“No, thank you. I’m on business.”“Ah, you are a busy man, Mr Norton; but let bygones be bygones. Have a snack with me! You’re welcome.”“I told you I was on business, Master Anson. Now, if you please, where are you going?”“Where am I going?” said Anson warmly. “Why, down south. What’s the good of my staying in Kimberley?”“I can’t answer that question, sir. Where’s your pass?”“Pass? What pass?”“Your permit from the magistrate to leave the town.”“Permit? Nonsense!” cried Anson. “I’m turned out of the mine offices, and I’m not going to sit and starve. No one will give me work without a character. You know that.”The superintendent nodded.“Perhaps not,” he said; “but you are still a suspect, and you have no right to leave the town.”“I’m not a prisoner,” said Anson defiantly, “and I’m going on my lawful way. What have you to say to that?”“In plain English, that I believe you are going off to escape arrest and to carry off your plunder.”“My what? Plunder? Why, it’s sickening! Didn’t you come to my place and thoroughly search it?”“I did search your room, but found nothing, because I believe you had everything too well hidden. Now then, if you please, what have you got in your wagon?”“Nothing but provisions and my clothes! Why?”“Because of your sudden flight.”“My sudden what?” said Anson, laughing.“You know what I said, sir. Your sudden flight!”“My sudden nonsense!” cried Anson angrily. “I have told you why I came away.”“Yes,” said the superintendent; “but I’m not satisfied that this move does not mean that you have smuggled diamonds here with you to carry to where you can dispose of them.”“Well, it’s of no use to argue with a policeman,” said Anson coolly. “You had better make another search.”
“Bless ’em!” said Anson to himself that same evening, “I don’t wish ’em any harm. I only hope that before they’ve gone far the Boers will challenge them.
“I can almost see it now: getting dark, and an outpost challenges. ‘Come on, gallop!’ says old Ingle, and they stick their spurs into their nags and are off over the veldt. Thencrack, cracky crack, go the rifles till the saddles are emptied and two gallant defenders of Kimberley and brave despatch-riders lie kicking in the dust.
“Ugh! How. I should like to be there with my flute. I’d stand and look on till they’d given their last kick and stretched themselves out straight, and then I’d play the ‘Dead March’ in ‘Saul’ all over ’em both. Don’t suppose they’d know; but if they could hear it they wouldn’t sneer at my ‘tootling old flute’—as Ingle called it—any more.
“Urrrr! I hated the pair of ’em. Ingle was a hound—a regular sniffing, smelling-out hound, and Noll West a miserable, sneaking cur. Beasts! So very good and nice and straightforward. Hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth—yes, millions’ worth of diamonds being scraped together by the company, and a poor fellow not allowed to have a handful. I don’t say it’s the thing to steal ’em; but who would steal? Just a bit of nice honest trade—buy in the cheapest market and sell in the dearest. It’s what the company does, but nobody else ought to, of course. Who’s going to ask every Kaffir who comes to you and says: ‘Buy a few stones, baas?’ ‘Where do you get ’em from?’ Not me. They’ve as good a right to ’em as the company, and if I like to do a bit of honest trade I will, in spite of the miserable laws they make. Hang their laws! What are they to me? Illicit-diamond-buying! Police force, eh? A snap of the fingers for it!
“A bit sooner than I expected,” mused the flute-player. “A few months more, and I should have made a very big thing if the Boers hadn’t upset it all and Master Ingle hadn’t been so precious clever! Never mind: it isn’t so very bad now! I’ll be off while my shoes are good. I don’t believe the Boers have got round to the south yet, and, if they have, I don’t believe it’ll matter. Say they do stop me, it’ll only be: ‘Who are you—and where are you going?’ Down south or west or anywhere, to do a bit of trade. I’m sloping off—that’s what I’m doing—because the British are trying to force me to volunteer to fight against my old friends the Boers. I’ll soft-soap and butter ’em all over, and play ’em a tune or two upon the flute, and offer ’em some good tobacco. They won’t stop me.”
The quiet, plump, thoughtful-looking muser was on his way to a farm just beyond the outskirts of Kimberley, as he walked slowly through the darkness, hardly passing a soul; and he rubbed his hands softly at last as he came in sight of a dim gleaming lantern some distance ahead.
“All ready and waiting,” he said softly, and now he increased his pace a little in his excitement, but only to stop short and look back once or twice as if to make sure that he was not followed. But, neither seeing nor hearing anything, he rubbed his hands again, muttered to himself something about wiping his shoes of the whole place, and went on quickly.
“Das you, baas?” said a thick guttural voice just above the lantern.
“Yes, this is me,” replied Anson. “Team in-spanned?”
“Yaas, baas: big long time ago. Not tink baas come.”
“But I said I would,” replied Anson. “Got the water-barrel slung underneath?”
The man grunted, Anson gave an order or two in a low tone, and in response to a shout a dimly-seen team of great bullocks roughly harnessed to the dissel boom and trek tow of a long covered-in wagon began to trudge slowly along over the rough track which led to the main road leading south. A second man led the way, while the Kaffir with the light swung himself up onto the great box in front of the wagon and drew out an unusually long whip, after hanging his horn lantern to a hook in the middle of the arched tilt over his head.
“Baas come alon’ heah?” said the man.
“No, go on, and I’ll walk behind for a bit,” said Anson, in a low tone of voice. “Go on quietly, and keep off the track. Go straight away till I tell you to turn off.”
The Kaffir grunted, and the oxen plodded on at their slow two-mile-an-hour rate, leaving the last sign of occupation far behind, Anson twice over giving instructions to the man who was leading which way to steer, the result being that the creaking wagon was driven right away south and west over the open veldt, avoiding the various farms and places till Kimberley was left far behind.
It was a bright starlit night, and the long procession of big bullocks looked weird and strange in the gloom, for at times they seemed to be drawing nothing, so closely did the tilt of the great lightly-loaded wagon assimilate with the drab dusty tint of the parched earth and the dusky-coloured scrub which the great wheels crushed down.
The driver sat on the box with his huge whip, his shoulders well up and his head down, driving mechanically, and seeming to be asleep, while the voorlooper kept pace with the leading oxen, and hour after hour passed away without a word being spoken.
So the night wore on, the only watchful eyes being those of Anson, who kept on straining them forward right and left, while his ears twitched as he listened for the sounds which he knew would be uttered by a Boer vedette.
But no challenge came, and the fugitive breathed more freely as the stars paled, a long, low, sickly streak began to spread in the east, and the distance of the wide-spreading desolate veldt grew more clear.
“I knew they wouldn’t be on the look-out,” said Anson to himself, in an exulting fashion. “Hah! I’m all right, and I wonder how West and Ingle have got on.”
It was growing broad daylight when the thoughtful-looking ex-clerk climbed up to the side of the driver.
“How far to the fontein?” he said.
“One hour, baas,” was the reply.
“Is there plenty of grass?”
“Plenty, baas. Bullock much eat and drink.”
The information proved quite correct, for within the specified time—the team having stepped out more readily, guided as they were by their instinct to where water, grass, and rest awaited them—and soon after the great orange globe had risen above what looked like the rim of the world, the wagon was pulled up at the edge of a broad crack in the dusty plain, where the bottom of the spruit could be seen full of rich green grass besprinkled with flowers, through which ran the clear waters of an abundant stream.
A fire was soon lighted, a billy hung over it to boil, and Anson, after watching the team, which had dragged their load so well and so far, munching away at the juicy grass, began to get out the necessaries connected with his own meal.
“Hah!” he said softly, as he rubbed his hands; “sorry I haven’t got my two fellow-clerks to breakfast: it would have been so nice and Ugh!” he growled, shading his eyes to give a final look round, for there in the distance, evidently following the track by which he had come through the night, there was a little knot of horsemen cantering along, and from time to time there came a flash of light caused by the horizontal beams of the sun striking upon rifle-barrel or sword.
Anson’s hands dropped to his sides, and he looked to right, left, and behind him as if meditating flight. Then his eyes went in the direction of his oxen, freshly outspanned, but he turned frowningly away as he felt that even with the team already in their places, the lumbering bullocks could not have been forced into a speed which the horses could not have overtaken in a few yards at a canter.
Then he shaded his eyes again to have a good look at the party of horsemen.
“Police,” he said, in a hiss. “Yes, and that’s Norton.Hfff!”
He drew in his breath, making a peculiar sound, and then, as if satisfied with the course he meant to pursue, he went back to the fire and continued his preparations for his meal, apparently paying no heed to the party of mounted police till they cantered up and came to a halt by the wagon.
“Hallo, constables!” cried Anson boisterously; “who’d have thought of seeing—Why, it’s you, Mr Norton!”
“Yes,” said the superintendent. “You seem surprised!”
“Why, of course I am. Got something on the way? Anyone been smuggling stones?”
“Yes,” said the officer shortly.
“Sorry for them then, for I suppose you mean to catch ’em.”
“I do,” said the officer warningly.
“That’s right; I’m just going to have some breakfast: will you have a snack with me?”
“No, thank you. I’m on business.”
“Ah, you are a busy man, Mr Norton; but let bygones be bygones. Have a snack with me! You’re welcome.”
“I told you I was on business, Master Anson. Now, if you please, where are you going?”
“Where am I going?” said Anson warmly. “Why, down south. What’s the good of my staying in Kimberley?”
“I can’t answer that question, sir. Where’s your pass?”
“Pass? What pass?”
“Your permit from the magistrate to leave the town.”
“Permit? Nonsense!” cried Anson. “I’m turned out of the mine offices, and I’m not going to sit and starve. No one will give me work without a character. You know that.”
The superintendent nodded.
“Perhaps not,” he said; “but you are still a suspect, and you have no right to leave the town.”
“I’m not a prisoner,” said Anson defiantly, “and I’m going on my lawful way. What have you to say to that?”
“In plain English, that I believe you are going off to escape arrest and to carry off your plunder.”
“My what? Plunder? Why, it’s sickening! Didn’t you come to my place and thoroughly search it?”
“I did search your room, but found nothing, because I believe you had everything too well hidden. Now then, if you please, what have you got in your wagon?”
“Nothing but provisions and my clothes! Why?”
“Because of your sudden flight.”
“My sudden what?” said Anson, laughing.
“You know what I said, sir. Your sudden flight!”
“My sudden nonsense!” cried Anson angrily. “I have told you why I came away.”
“Yes,” said the superintendent; “but I’m not satisfied that this move does not mean that you have smuggled diamonds here with you to carry to where you can dispose of them.”
“Well, it’s of no use to argue with a policeman,” said Anson coolly. “You had better make another search.”
Chapter Eleven.Another Search.“That’s just what I’m going to do, Master Anson,” was the reply, given sternly.“All right,” said Anson nonchalantly. “Search away; but, if I was in the police and had a good tip given me as to where the plunder I was after had been planted, I don’t think I should waste time hunting blind leads, and letting the real culprits have plenty of time to get away.”“But then you are not in the police, sir,” said the superintendent, with a nod. “So first of all I’ll let my men run over you and your Kaffirs.”“Wait till I’ve lit a cigar first,” said Anson, taking out a case, and then laughing, for the police officer was watching him keenly. “That’s right; there are three or four diamonds in every one of these cigars, and as I smoke you’ll notice that I don’t burn much of the end I light, but that I keep on biting off bits of the leaf till I get to the diamonds, and then I swallow them.”He held out his cigar-case, and the superintendent took it and began to feel the cigars, till Anson burst out laughing.“Don’t pinch them too hard,” he cried, “or you’ll break them, and then they won’t draw.”The officer returned the cigar-case with an angry ejaculation, and glanced round as if hesitating where to begin, while the horses of his men began to imitate the action of the oxen, nibbling away at the rich grass surrounding the pleasant spring.“I say, Robert,” said Anson, and the superintendent started at the familiar nickname: “I’d look smart over the business, for the Boers have been here lately to water their horses, and if they should by any chance come back it might mean a journey for you and your men to Pretoria.”“And you too, if they did come,” said the officer surlily.“Oh, I don’t know,” said Anson airily. “I don’t believe they would stop a man with an empty wagon going south on a peaceful journey.”“They’d take you and your wagon and span, sir,” said the officer sternly.“Look here, I don’t believe the Boers would behave half so badly to me as my own people have done. But aren’t you going to search?”“Yes,” said the superintendent sharply. “Your rifle, please.”Anson unslung it from where it hung in the wagon, and the officer took it, examined the stock and the plate at the end of the butt, to be sure that there were no secret places scooped out of the wood, before he opened the breech and withdrew the ball cartridges, holding the empty barrels up to his eyes.“That’s right,” cried Anson; “but have a good look round for squalls—I mean Boers. Gun-barrels don’t make half bad things to squint through when you haven’t got a binocular.”“Bah!” said the superintendent angrily, replacing the cartridges and closing the breech with a snap. “But you have a pair of glasses slung across your shoulder, sir. Have the goodness to pass the case here.”Anson obeyed willingly enough, giving his slung case up for the rifle that was returned.“There you are,” he said, “and when you’ve done I suppose you’d like to search my clothes and my skin. But I haven’t anything there, and I haven’t cut myself to slip diamonds inside my hide, and there are none in my ears or boots.”“It’s my duty to have you searched all the same,” said the superintendent. “Here, two of you go carefully over Mr Anson, while you three hitch up your horses there and make a close search throughout the wagon.”Anson chuckled as the men began promptly to pass their hands over his clothes, turn out his pockets, and haul off his boots, their chief, after satisfying himself that the binocular case had no false bottom or precious stones inside the instrument itself, looking searchingly on.Satisfied at last that his captive had nothing concealed about him, and frowning heavily at the malicious grin of contempt in which Anson indulged, the superintendent turned to the men examining the oxen so as to satisfy himself that none of the heavy dull brutes had been provided with false horns riveted over their own and of greater length so as to allow room for a few diamonds in each.Then the dissel boom was examined to see if it had been bored out somewhere and plugged to cover the illicitly-acquired diamonds thrust in.But no: the great pole of the wagon was perfectly solid; there were no stones stuck in the grease used to anoint the wheels; there was no sign anywhere outside the wagon of boring or plugging; and at last the superintendent, after carefully avoiding Anson’s supercilious grin, turned to give a final look round before giving up the search.Was there anywhere else likely?Yes; there were the bags of mealies and the water-cask slung beneath the wain, both nearly full, the cask to give forth a sound when it was shaken, and the sacks ready to be emptied out upon a wagon sheet and shed their deep buff-coloured grains, hard, clean, and sweet, in a great heap, which was spread out more and more till they were about two deep, but showed not a sign of a smuggled stone.“Fill the bags again, my lads,” said the police superintendent, “and let’s have a look at what’s inside the wagon.”“We’ve searched everything there,” said a sergeant gruffly.“I have not,” replied the superintendent sharply. “Let me see.”“But you haven’t looked in the water-cask,” said Anson mockingly; “turn the water out on to the wagon sheet. It won’t stay there, of course; but we can easily get some more. Do you think diamonds would melt in water?”“Try one and see,” cried the superintendent angrily, as he turned away, to stand looking on while every article that could by any possibility have been made to act as a vehicle to hide smuggled diamonds had been examined and replaced.“We’ve been sold, eh?” said the sergeant, looking up in his superintendent’s eyes at last.“It seems like it,” was the reply. “There’s nothing here.”Just then Anson, who had been lighting a fresh cigar, came up to him smilingly.“Haven’t done, have you?” he said.“Yes: quite,” was the gruff reply.“Oh, I am sorry you haven’t had better luck,” said Anson, in a mock sympathetic tone. “It must be terribly disappointing, after expecting to make a big capture.”“Very,” said the superintendent, looking the speaker searchingly in the eyes.“Well, I said something to you before, but you took no notice.”“Oh yes, I did.”“But you didn’t act on my tip. It seems like playing the sneak, but that’s what they did to me, so I don’t mind paying them back in their own coin.”“Pay whom?”“The two who informed on me to save their own skins.”“I do not understand you.”“Oh dear, what fools you clever men are!”“What do you mean?”“Bah! And you call yourself a police officer. I’d make a better one out of a Dutch doll.”“Once more, what do you mean?”“Rub the dust out of your eyes, man.”“There’s none there.”“Tchah! Your eyes are full of the dust those two threw there. Can’t you see?”“No.”“Well, I am surprised at you,” cried Anson; “and after such a hint too! Can’t you see that they’ve been a-playing upon you—setting you off on a blind lead to keep your attention while they went off with a big parcel of diamonds?”“What! West and Ingleborough?”“To be sure! What should they want to volunteer for, and risk capture by the Boers, if they hadn’t something to gain by it?”“Well, they had something to gain—honour and promotion.”“Pish!” cried Anson; “they want something better than that! You’ve been had, squire. You’ve been set to catch poor innocent, lamb-like me, and all the while those two foxes have been stealing away with the plunder.”“What!” cried the superintendent.“I spoke plainly enough,” said Anson, smiling pleasantly.“Yes, you spoke plainly enough,” said the superintendent; “but it’s nothing to laugh at, sir.”“Why, it’s enough to make a cat laugh. Well, I wish you better luck,” said Anson, “and if you do catch up to Oliver West I hope you’ll slip the handcuffs on him at once and make him part with his smuggled swag.”“You may trust me for that,” said the superintendent grimly.“I shall,” said Anson, smiling broadly. “Glad you came after me, so that I could put you on the right track.”“So am I,” said the police officer, with a peculiar look.“And I’m sorry I cut up so rough,” continued Anson, smiling, as he apologised; “but you know, it isn’t nice to be stopped and overhauled as I have been.”“Of course it isn’t,” said the officer drily; “but in my profession one can’t afford to study people’s feelings.”“No, no, of course not. But don’t apologise.”“I was not going to,” said the superintendent; “I’m sorry, though, to find out that West is such a scamp. Why, Ingleborough must be as bad.”“Or worse,” said Anson, grinning.“Yes, because he’s older. Why, I quite trusted that fellow.”“Ah, you’re not the first man who has been deceived, sir.”“Of course not; but by the way, Mr Anson, why didn’t you say something of this kind in your defence when Ingleborough charged you before the directors?”“Why didn’t I say something about it? Why, because I didn’t know. It only came to me too late. But there, you know now; and, as I said before, I wish you luck and a good haul, only unfortunately they’ve got a good start and you’ll have your work cut out. Going? Goodbye then.”“Goodbye?” said the superintendent, using the word as a question.“Yes, of course. I’m going to chance it. I don’t suppose we shall meet any Boers.”“No; I don’t think you’ll meet any Boers,” said the officer, in so meaning a way that Anson grew uneasy.“Why do you speak like that?” he said sharply.“Only that it isn’t goodbye, Mr Anson.”“Not goodbye? Yes, it is. I’m off to the south at once.”“No, sir; you’re going north with me. You area suspected person, Mr Anson. I am not altogether satisfied with my search, nor yet with your very ingenious story.”“Then search again?” cried Anson excitedly.“Not here, sir. I’ll have a careful look over the wagon when we get back to Kimberley.”“You don’t mean to say you are going to drag me back to Kimberley?”“I do, sir, and you ought to be thankful, for you’d never pass through the Boers’ lines further south.”“But you have thoroughly searched me and my wagon.”“I have told you that I am not satisfied,” said the officer coldly; “and, even if I were, I should take you back with me all the same.”“Why? What for?”“To face this Mr West and his companion if we capture them and bring them back.”“But what’s that to me?”“Only this: you are the informer, and will have to give evidence against them when they are examined. Now, please, no more words, Mr Anson; you are my prisoner. Quick, boys! Get the team in-spanned and the wagon turned the other way.”“But breakfast,” said Anson, with a groan. “I must have something to eat.”“The billy is boiling,” said the sergeant to his chief, in a confidential tone, “and the bullocks would be all the better for an hour’s feed, sir.”The superintendent looked sharply towards the fire and the prisoner’s provisions, and shaded his eyes and gazed for some minutes south.“You’re right,” he said. “Send two men off a good mile forward as outposts, and let the oxen feed.—Now, Mr Anson, I’ll take breakfast with you if you’ll have me for a guest.”“Yes; I can’t help myself,” said the prisoner bitterly; “and suppose I shan’t have a chance given me to make your tea agreeable with something I have in the wagon.”“No; I don’t think you will, sir, thanks.”“But I can sit and wish you luck, my friend, and my wish is this—that a commando may swoop down upon you and your gang.”“Thanks once more,” said the superintendent grimly. “There, sit down, sir, and I’ll preside and send you your breakfast.”This was done, the repast made, and, as soon as two of the constables had finished, they were sent off to relieve their rear-guard, sending them on to have their meal, and with orders to fall back towards the wagon a quarter of an hour after the relief had been made.All this was duly carried out, the oxen in-spanned, and the wagon began its lumbering course back towards Kimberley, the black driver and voorlooper taking their places in the most unconcerned way, as if it were all in the day’s work, while Anson, after eating voraciously, had a fit of the sulks, watching narrowly the movements of the police. After a moment’s indecision he climbed upon the box in the front of the wagon and in doing so glanced at his rifle, which hung in its slings close to his head.“Six of them,” he said to himself, as he smiled pleasantly. “I could bring down the chief and one more easily; but that wouldn’t scare the rest away. Odds are too heavy, and one don’t want to be taken and hanged. They are so particular about a policeman being hurt! Never mind; I daresay my luck will turn—fool as I was to try that dodge on about those two going off with the smuggled loot. I’ll wait. Here goes to whistle for the Boers, as the sailors do for wind.”Saying this, he drew out the little mahogany case which held his flute, and coolly took the pieces and fitted them together, before crossing his legs upon the rough seat and beginning to blow, keeping up a series of the most doleful old Scotch and Irish laments, while the oxen plodded on and the police rode by the wagon side, listening and looking in vain for any sign tending to point out the fact that the flautist was a dishonest dealer in the coveted crystals which were so hard to get, but all the same keeping a keen look-out for danger in the shape of advancing Boers.
“That’s just what I’m going to do, Master Anson,” was the reply, given sternly.
“All right,” said Anson nonchalantly. “Search away; but, if I was in the police and had a good tip given me as to where the plunder I was after had been planted, I don’t think I should waste time hunting blind leads, and letting the real culprits have plenty of time to get away.”
“But then you are not in the police, sir,” said the superintendent, with a nod. “So first of all I’ll let my men run over you and your Kaffirs.”
“Wait till I’ve lit a cigar first,” said Anson, taking out a case, and then laughing, for the police officer was watching him keenly. “That’s right; there are three or four diamonds in every one of these cigars, and as I smoke you’ll notice that I don’t burn much of the end I light, but that I keep on biting off bits of the leaf till I get to the diamonds, and then I swallow them.”
He held out his cigar-case, and the superintendent took it and began to feel the cigars, till Anson burst out laughing.
“Don’t pinch them too hard,” he cried, “or you’ll break them, and then they won’t draw.”
The officer returned the cigar-case with an angry ejaculation, and glanced round as if hesitating where to begin, while the horses of his men began to imitate the action of the oxen, nibbling away at the rich grass surrounding the pleasant spring.
“I say, Robert,” said Anson, and the superintendent started at the familiar nickname: “I’d look smart over the business, for the Boers have been here lately to water their horses, and if they should by any chance come back it might mean a journey for you and your men to Pretoria.”
“And you too, if they did come,” said the officer surlily.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Anson airily. “I don’t believe they would stop a man with an empty wagon going south on a peaceful journey.”
“They’d take you and your wagon and span, sir,” said the officer sternly.
“Look here, I don’t believe the Boers would behave half so badly to me as my own people have done. But aren’t you going to search?”
“Yes,” said the superintendent sharply. “Your rifle, please.”
Anson unslung it from where it hung in the wagon, and the officer took it, examined the stock and the plate at the end of the butt, to be sure that there were no secret places scooped out of the wood, before he opened the breech and withdrew the ball cartridges, holding the empty barrels up to his eyes.
“That’s right,” cried Anson; “but have a good look round for squalls—I mean Boers. Gun-barrels don’t make half bad things to squint through when you haven’t got a binocular.”
“Bah!” said the superintendent angrily, replacing the cartridges and closing the breech with a snap. “But you have a pair of glasses slung across your shoulder, sir. Have the goodness to pass the case here.”
Anson obeyed willingly enough, giving his slung case up for the rifle that was returned.
“There you are,” he said, “and when you’ve done I suppose you’d like to search my clothes and my skin. But I haven’t anything there, and I haven’t cut myself to slip diamonds inside my hide, and there are none in my ears or boots.”
“It’s my duty to have you searched all the same,” said the superintendent. “Here, two of you go carefully over Mr Anson, while you three hitch up your horses there and make a close search throughout the wagon.”
Anson chuckled as the men began promptly to pass their hands over his clothes, turn out his pockets, and haul off his boots, their chief, after satisfying himself that the binocular case had no false bottom or precious stones inside the instrument itself, looking searchingly on.
Satisfied at last that his captive had nothing concealed about him, and frowning heavily at the malicious grin of contempt in which Anson indulged, the superintendent turned to the men examining the oxen so as to satisfy himself that none of the heavy dull brutes had been provided with false horns riveted over their own and of greater length so as to allow room for a few diamonds in each.
Then the dissel boom was examined to see if it had been bored out somewhere and plugged to cover the illicitly-acquired diamonds thrust in.
But no: the great pole of the wagon was perfectly solid; there were no stones stuck in the grease used to anoint the wheels; there was no sign anywhere outside the wagon of boring or plugging; and at last the superintendent, after carefully avoiding Anson’s supercilious grin, turned to give a final look round before giving up the search.
Was there anywhere else likely?
Yes; there were the bags of mealies and the water-cask slung beneath the wain, both nearly full, the cask to give forth a sound when it was shaken, and the sacks ready to be emptied out upon a wagon sheet and shed their deep buff-coloured grains, hard, clean, and sweet, in a great heap, which was spread out more and more till they were about two deep, but showed not a sign of a smuggled stone.
“Fill the bags again, my lads,” said the police superintendent, “and let’s have a look at what’s inside the wagon.”
“We’ve searched everything there,” said a sergeant gruffly.
“I have not,” replied the superintendent sharply. “Let me see.”
“But you haven’t looked in the water-cask,” said Anson mockingly; “turn the water out on to the wagon sheet. It won’t stay there, of course; but we can easily get some more. Do you think diamonds would melt in water?”
“Try one and see,” cried the superintendent angrily, as he turned away, to stand looking on while every article that could by any possibility have been made to act as a vehicle to hide smuggled diamonds had been examined and replaced.
“We’ve been sold, eh?” said the sergeant, looking up in his superintendent’s eyes at last.
“It seems like it,” was the reply. “There’s nothing here.”
Just then Anson, who had been lighting a fresh cigar, came up to him smilingly.
“Haven’t done, have you?” he said.
“Yes: quite,” was the gruff reply.
“Oh, I am sorry you haven’t had better luck,” said Anson, in a mock sympathetic tone. “It must be terribly disappointing, after expecting to make a big capture.”
“Very,” said the superintendent, looking the speaker searchingly in the eyes.
“Well, I said something to you before, but you took no notice.”
“Oh yes, I did.”
“But you didn’t act on my tip. It seems like playing the sneak, but that’s what they did to me, so I don’t mind paying them back in their own coin.”
“Pay whom?”
“The two who informed on me to save their own skins.”
“I do not understand you.”
“Oh dear, what fools you clever men are!”
“What do you mean?”
“Bah! And you call yourself a police officer. I’d make a better one out of a Dutch doll.”
“Once more, what do you mean?”
“Rub the dust out of your eyes, man.”
“There’s none there.”
“Tchah! Your eyes are full of the dust those two threw there. Can’t you see?”
“No.”
“Well, I am surprised at you,” cried Anson; “and after such a hint too! Can’t you see that they’ve been a-playing upon you—setting you off on a blind lead to keep your attention while they went off with a big parcel of diamonds?”
“What! West and Ingleborough?”
“To be sure! What should they want to volunteer for, and risk capture by the Boers, if they hadn’t something to gain by it?”
“Well, they had something to gain—honour and promotion.”
“Pish!” cried Anson; “they want something better than that! You’ve been had, squire. You’ve been set to catch poor innocent, lamb-like me, and all the while those two foxes have been stealing away with the plunder.”
“What!” cried the superintendent.
“I spoke plainly enough,” said Anson, smiling pleasantly.
“Yes, you spoke plainly enough,” said the superintendent; “but it’s nothing to laugh at, sir.”
“Why, it’s enough to make a cat laugh. Well, I wish you better luck,” said Anson, “and if you do catch up to Oliver West I hope you’ll slip the handcuffs on him at once and make him part with his smuggled swag.”
“You may trust me for that,” said the superintendent grimly.
“I shall,” said Anson, smiling broadly. “Glad you came after me, so that I could put you on the right track.”
“So am I,” said the police officer, with a peculiar look.
“And I’m sorry I cut up so rough,” continued Anson, smiling, as he apologised; “but you know, it isn’t nice to be stopped and overhauled as I have been.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said the officer drily; “but in my profession one can’t afford to study people’s feelings.”
“No, no, of course not. But don’t apologise.”
“I was not going to,” said the superintendent; “I’m sorry, though, to find out that West is such a scamp. Why, Ingleborough must be as bad.”
“Or worse,” said Anson, grinning.
“Yes, because he’s older. Why, I quite trusted that fellow.”
“Ah, you’re not the first man who has been deceived, sir.”
“Of course not; but by the way, Mr Anson, why didn’t you say something of this kind in your defence when Ingleborough charged you before the directors?”
“Why didn’t I say something about it? Why, because I didn’t know. It only came to me too late. But there, you know now; and, as I said before, I wish you luck and a good haul, only unfortunately they’ve got a good start and you’ll have your work cut out. Going? Goodbye then.”
“Goodbye?” said the superintendent, using the word as a question.
“Yes, of course. I’m going to chance it. I don’t suppose we shall meet any Boers.”
“No; I don’t think you’ll meet any Boers,” said the officer, in so meaning a way that Anson grew uneasy.
“Why do you speak like that?” he said sharply.
“Only that it isn’t goodbye, Mr Anson.”
“Not goodbye? Yes, it is. I’m off to the south at once.”
“No, sir; you’re going north with me. You area suspected person, Mr Anson. I am not altogether satisfied with my search, nor yet with your very ingenious story.”
“Then search again?” cried Anson excitedly.
“Not here, sir. I’ll have a careful look over the wagon when we get back to Kimberley.”
“You don’t mean to say you are going to drag me back to Kimberley?”
“I do, sir, and you ought to be thankful, for you’d never pass through the Boers’ lines further south.”
“But you have thoroughly searched me and my wagon.”
“I have told you that I am not satisfied,” said the officer coldly; “and, even if I were, I should take you back with me all the same.”
“Why? What for?”
“To face this Mr West and his companion if we capture them and bring them back.”
“But what’s that to me?”
“Only this: you are the informer, and will have to give evidence against them when they are examined. Now, please, no more words, Mr Anson; you are my prisoner. Quick, boys! Get the team in-spanned and the wagon turned the other way.”
“But breakfast,” said Anson, with a groan. “I must have something to eat.”
“The billy is boiling,” said the sergeant to his chief, in a confidential tone, “and the bullocks would be all the better for an hour’s feed, sir.”
The superintendent looked sharply towards the fire and the prisoner’s provisions, and shaded his eyes and gazed for some minutes south.
“You’re right,” he said. “Send two men off a good mile forward as outposts, and let the oxen feed.—Now, Mr Anson, I’ll take breakfast with you if you’ll have me for a guest.”
“Yes; I can’t help myself,” said the prisoner bitterly; “and suppose I shan’t have a chance given me to make your tea agreeable with something I have in the wagon.”
“No; I don’t think you will, sir, thanks.”
“But I can sit and wish you luck, my friend, and my wish is this—that a commando may swoop down upon you and your gang.”
“Thanks once more,” said the superintendent grimly. “There, sit down, sir, and I’ll preside and send you your breakfast.”
This was done, the repast made, and, as soon as two of the constables had finished, they were sent off to relieve their rear-guard, sending them on to have their meal, and with orders to fall back towards the wagon a quarter of an hour after the relief had been made.
All this was duly carried out, the oxen in-spanned, and the wagon began its lumbering course back towards Kimberley, the black driver and voorlooper taking their places in the most unconcerned way, as if it were all in the day’s work, while Anson, after eating voraciously, had a fit of the sulks, watching narrowly the movements of the police. After a moment’s indecision he climbed upon the box in the front of the wagon and in doing so glanced at his rifle, which hung in its slings close to his head.
“Six of them,” he said to himself, as he smiled pleasantly. “I could bring down the chief and one more easily; but that wouldn’t scare the rest away. Odds are too heavy, and one don’t want to be taken and hanged. They are so particular about a policeman being hurt! Never mind; I daresay my luck will turn—fool as I was to try that dodge on about those two going off with the smuggled loot. I’ll wait. Here goes to whistle for the Boers, as the sailors do for wind.”
Saying this, he drew out the little mahogany case which held his flute, and coolly took the pieces and fitted them together, before crossing his legs upon the rough seat and beginning to blow, keeping up a series of the most doleful old Scotch and Irish laments, while the oxen plodded on and the police rode by the wagon side, listening and looking in vain for any sign tending to point out the fact that the flautist was a dishonest dealer in the coveted crystals which were so hard to get, but all the same keeping a keen look-out for danger in the shape of advancing Boers.
Chapter Twelve.In the Thick of it.The report of the rifle was magical in its effect upon the Basuto ponies, each rearing up on its hind legs and striking out with its forefeet; but the same punishment was meted out by the riders—namely, a sharp tap between the ears with the barrels of the rifles—and the result was that beyond fidgeting they stood fairly still, whileflash, flash, flash, three more shots were fired. The bullets whizzed by with their peculiar noise, sounding quite close, but probably nowhere near the riders—those who fired judging in the darkness quite by sound.“Let’s keep on at a walk,” whispered West; but, low as his utterance was, the sound reached an enemy’s ears.“Mind what you’re about!” said someone close at hand, evidently mistaking the speaker for a friend; “one of those bullets went pretty close to my ear. Whereabouts are they?”“Away to the right,” whispered Ingleborough, in Dutch.“Come on then,” said the former speaker. “Ck!”The pony the man rode made a plunge as if spurs had been suddenly dug into its sides, and the dull beat of its hoofs on the dusty soil told of the course its rider was taking.West was about to speak when the rapid beating of hoofs came from his left, and he had hard work to restrain his own mount from joining a party of at least a dozen of the enemy as they swept by noisily in the darkness.“What do the fools think they are going to do by galloping about like that?” said Ingleborough gruffly.“If they had kept still they might have caught us. Hallo! Firing again!”Three or four shots rang out on the night air, and away in front of the pair the beating of hoofs was heard again.“Why, the country seems alive with them,” whispered West. “Hadn’t we better keep on?”“Yes, we must chance it,” was the reply. “No one can see us twenty yards away.”“And we ought to make the most of the darkness.”“Hist!” whispered Ingleborough, and his companion sat fast, listening to the movements of a mounted man who was evidently proceeding cautiously across their front from left to right. Then the dull sound of hoofs ceased—went on again—ceased once more for a time, so long that West felt that their inimical neighbour must have stolen away, leaving the coast quite clear.He was about to say so to Ingleborough, but fortunately waited a little longer, and then started, for there was the impatient stamp of a horse, followed by a sound that suggested the angry jerking of a rein, for the animal plunged and was checked again.As far as the listeners could make out, a mounted man was not forty yards away, and the perspiration stood out in great drops upon West’s brow as he waited for the discovery which he felt must be made. For a movement on the part of either of the ponies, or a check of the rein to keep them from stretching down their necks to graze, would have been enough. But they remained abnormally still, and at last, to the satisfaction and relief of both, the Boer vedette moved off at a trot, leaving the pair of listeners once more free to breathe.“That was a narrow escape!” said West, as soon as their late companion was fairly out of hearing.“Yes. I suppose we ought to have dismounted and crawled up to him and put a bullet through his body,” answered Ingleborough.“Ugh! Don’t talk about it!” replied West. “I suppose we shall have plenty of such escapes as this before we have done.”“You’re right! But we can move on now, and—Hist! There are some more on the left.”“I don’t hear anyone. Yes, I do. Sit fast; there’s a strong party coming along.”West was quite right, a body of what might have been a hundred going by them at a walk some eighty or ninety yards away, and at intervals a short sharp order was given in Boer-Dutch which suggested to West commands in connection with his own drill, “Right incline!” or “Left incline!” till the commando seemed to have passed right away out of hearing.“Now then,” said West softly, “let’s get on while we have the chance.”The words were hardly above his breath, but in the utter stillness of the night on the veldt they penetrated sufficiently far, and in an instant both the despatch-riders knew what the brief orders they had heard meant, namely that as the commando rode along a trooper was ordered to rein up at about every hundred yards and was left as a vedette.For no sooner had West spoken than there was a sharp challenge to left and right, running away along a line, and directly after the reports of rifles rang out and bullets whizzed like insects through the dark night air. Many flew around and over the heads of the fugitives; for the moment the discovery was made West and Ingleborough pressed their ponies’ sides and went forward at full gallop to pass through the fire in front of them.It was close work, for guided by the sounds ofthe ponies’ hoofs, the Boers kept on firing, one shot being from close at hand—so close that the flash seemed blinding, the report tremendous. This was followed by a sharp shock, the two companions, as they tore on, cannoning against the vedette, West’s pony striking the horse in his front full upon the shoulder and driving the poor beast right in the way of Ingleborough’s, with the consequence that there was a second collision which sent the Boer and his horse prostrate, Ingleborough’s pony making a bound which cleared the struggling pair, and then racing forward alongside of its stable companion, when they galloped on shoulder to shoulder. They were followed by a scattered fire of bullets, and when these ceased West turned in his saddle and listened, to hear the heavy beat of many hoofs, telling of pursuit; but the despatch-riders were well through the line, and galloped on at full speed for the next half-hour, when they slackened down and gradually drew rein and listened.“Can’t hear a sound!” said West.“Nor I,” replied Ingleborough, after a pause. “So now let’s breathe our nags and go steadily, for we may very likely come upon another of these lines of mounted men.”A short consultation was then held respecting the line of route to be followed as likely to be the most clear of the enemy.“I’ve been thinking,” said Ingleborough, “that our best way will be to strike off west, and after we are over the river to make a good long détour.”West said nothing, but rode on by his companion’s side, letting his pony have a loose rein so that the sure-footed little beast could pick its way and avoid stones.“I think that will be the best plan,” said Ingleborough, after a long pause.Still West was silent.“What is it?” said his companion impatiently.“I was thinking,” was the reply.“Well, you might say something,” continued Ingleborough, in an ill-used tone. “It would be more lively if you only gave a grunt.”“Humph!”It was as near an imitation as the utterer could give, and Ingleborough laughed.“Thanks,” he said. “That’s a little more cheering. I’ve been thinking, too, that if we make this détour to the west we shall get into some rougher country, where we can lie up among the rocks of some kopje when it gets broad daylight.”“And not go on during the day?”“Certainly not; for two reasons: our horses could not keep on without rest, and we should certainly be seen by the Boers who are crowding over the Vaal.” West was silent again.“Hang it all!” cried Ingleborough. “Not so much as a grunt now! Look here, can you propose a better plan?”“I don’t know about better, but I was thinking quite differently from you.”“Let’s have your way then.”“Perhaps you had better not. You have had some experience in your rides out on excursions with Mr Norton, and I daresay your plan is a better one than mine.”“I don’t know,” said Ingleborough shortly. “Let’s hear yours.”“But—”“Let’s—hear—yours,” cried the other imperatively, and his voice sounded so harsh that West felt annoyed, and he began:“Well, I thought of doing what you propose at first.”“Naturally: it seems the likeliest way.”“But after turning it over in my mind it seemed to me that the Boers would all be hurrying across the border and scouring our country, looking in all directions as they descended towards Kimberley.”“Yes, that’s right enough. But go on; don’t hesitate. It’s your expedition, and I’m only second.”“So I thought that we should have a far better chance and be less likely to meet with interruption if we kept on the east side of the Vaal till it turned eastward, and then, if we could get across, go on north through the enemy’s country.”“Invade the Transvaal with an army consisting of one officer and one man?”“There!” cried West pettishly. “I felt sure that you would ridicule my plans.”“Then you were all wrong, lad,” cried Ingleborough warmly, “for, so far from ridiculing your plans, I think them capital. There’s success in them from the very cheek of the idea—I beg your pardon: I ought to say audacity. Why, of course, if we can only keep clear of the wandering commandos—and I think we can if we travel only by night—we shall find that nearly everyone is over the border on the way to the siege of Kimberley, and when we stop at a farm, as we shall be obliged to for provisions, we shall only find women and children.”“But they’ll give warning of our having been there on our way to Mafeking.”“No, they will not. How will they know that we are going to Mafeking if we don’t tell them? I’m afraid we must make up a tale. Perhaps you’ll be best at that. I’m not clever at fibbing.”“I don’t see that we need tell the people lies,” said West shortly.“Then we will not,” said his companion. “Perhaps we shall not be asked; but if we are I shall say that we are going right away from the fighting because we neither of us want to kill any Boers.”“Humph!” grunted West.“What, doesn’t that suit you? It’s true enough. I don’t want to kill any Boers, and I’m sure you don’t. Why, when you come to think that we shall be telling this to women whose husbands, sons, or brothers have been commandoed, we are sure to be treated as friends.”“We had better act on your plan,” said West, “and then we need make up no tales.”“Wait a minute,” said Ingleborough. “Pull up.”West obeyed, and their ponies began to nibble the herbage.“Now listen: can you hear anything?”West was silent for nearly a minute, passed in straining his ears to catch the slightest sound.“Nothing,” he said at last.“Nothing,” said his companion. “Let’s jump down!”West followed his companion’s example, and swung himself out of the saddle.“Now get between the nags’ heads and hold them still. You and they will form three sides of a square: I’m going to be the fourth.”“What for?”“To light a match.”“Oh, don’t stop to smoke now,” said West reproachfully. “Let’s get on.”“Who’s going to smoke, old Jump-at-conclusions? I’m going to carry out our plan.”Scratch! and a match blazed up, revealing Ingleborough’s face as he bent down over it to examine something bright held in one hand—something he tried to keep steady till the match burned close to his fingers and was crushed out.“Horses’ heads are now pointing due north,” he said. “Keep where you are till I’m mounted. That’s right! Now then, up you get! That’s right! Now then! Right face—forward!”“But you’re going east.”“Yes,” said Ingleborough, with a little laugh, “and I’m going with West or by West all the same. We must keep on till we get to the railway, cross it, and then get over the border as soon as we can.”“What, follow out my plan?”“Of course! It’s ten times better than mine. Look here, my dear boy, you are a deal too modest. Recollect that you are in command, and that my duty is to obey.”“Nonsense!”“Sense, sir; sound sense. I’ve got enough in my head to know when a thing’s good, and you may depend upon my opposing you if I feel that you are going to act foolishly. Once for all, your idea’s capital, lad; so let’s get on as fast as we can till daybreak, and then we can lie up in safely in the enemy’s country.”In due course the railway was reached, a breeze springing up and sweeping the sky clear so that they had a better chance of avoiding obstacles in the way, and as soon as they were well over the line the ponies were kept at a canter, which was only checked here and there over broken ground. This, however, became more plentiful as the night glided away, but the rough land and low kopjes were the only difficulties that they encountered on the enemy’s side of the border, where they passed a farm or two, rousing barking dogs, which kept on baying till the fugitives were out of hearing.At last the pale streak right in front warned them that daylight was coming on fast, and they searched the country as they cantered on till away more to the north a rugged eminence clearly seen against the sky suggested itself as the sort of spot they required, and they now hurried their ponies on till they came to a rushing, bubbling stream running in the right direction.“Our guide, Noll,” said Ingleborough quietly; “that will lead us right up to the kopje, where we shall find a resting-place, a good spot for hiding, and plenty of water as well.”All proved as Ingleborough had so lightly stated; but before they reached the shelter amongst the piled-up masses of granite and ironstone, with shady trees growing in the cracks and crevices, their glasses showed them quite half-a-dozen farms dotted about the plain. They were in great doubt as to whether they were unseen when they had to dismount and lead their willing steeds into a snug little amphitheatre surrounded by rocks and trees, while the hollow itself was rich with pasturage such as the horses loved best, growing upon both sides of the clear stream whose sources were high up among the rocks.“You see to hobbling the ponies, Noll,” said Ingleborough, “while I get up as high as I can with my glass and give an eye to the farms. If we’ve been seen someone will soon be after us. We can’t rest till we know. But eat your breakfast, and I’ll nibble mine while I watch. Don’t take off the saddles and bridles.”West did as he was requested, and ate sparingly while he watched the horses browsing for quite an hour, before Ingleborough came down from the highest part of the kopje.“It’s all right,” he said. “Let’s have off the saddles and bridles now. Have you hobbled them well?”“Look,” said West.“Capital. I didn’t doubt you; but you might have made a mistake, and if we dropped asleep and woke up to find that the ponies were gone it would be fatal to your despatch.”“Yes; but one of us must keep watch while the other sleeps.”“It’s of no use to try, my lad. It isn’t to be done. If we’re going to get into Mafeking in a business-like condition we must have food and rest. Come, the horses will not straggle away from this beautiful moist grass, so let’s lie down in this shady cave with its soft sandy bottom and sleep hard till sunset. Then we must be up and away again.”“But anxiety won’t let me sleep,” said West. “I’ll sit down and watch till you wake, and then I’ll have a short sleep while you take my place.”“Very well,” said Ingleborough, smiling.“What are you laughing at?” said West, frowning.“I was only thinking that you had a very hard day yesterday and that you have had an arduous time riding through the night.”“Yes, of course.”“Well, nature is nature! Try and keep awake if you can! I’m going to lie flat on my back and sleep. You’ll follow my example in less than an hour.”“I—will—not!” said West emphatically.But he did, as he sat back resting his shoulders against the rock and gazing out from the mouth of the cave where they had made themselves comfortable at the beautiful sunlit veldt, till it all grew dark as if a veil had been drawn over his eyes.It was only the lids which had closed, and then, perfectly unconscious, he sank over sidewise till he lay prone on the soft sand, sleeping heavily, till a hand was laid upon his shoulder and he started into wakefulness, to see that the sun had set, that the shadows were gathering over the veldt, and then that Ingleborough was smiling in his face.“Rested, old man?” he said. “That’s right. The nags have had a splendid feed, and they are ready for their night’s work. I haven’t seen a soul stirring. Come on! Let’s have a good drink of water and a feed, and by that time we ought to be ready to start.”“We ought to cross the Vaal before morning,” said West.“I doubt it,” was the reply, “for it will be rather a job, as we shall find the enemy about there. If we get across to-morrow night we shall have done well.”“But we shall never get to Mafeking like this.”“It’s going to be a harder task than you thought for when you volunteered so lightly, my dear boy; but we’ve undertaken to do it, and do it we will. It isn’t a work of hours nor days. It may take us weeks. Come along! I’m hungry, and so are you.”“But tell me,” said West, “how long have you been awake?”“Not above a quarter of an hour. We must have sleep and rest as well as food. When we’ve had the last we shall be ready for anything through the night.”And so it proved as they rode on properly refreshed, meeting with no adventure, but being startled by the barking roars of lions twice during the night, which came to an end as they reached a very similar kopje offering just such accommodation as they had met with on the previous morning.“Hah!” said Ingleborough. “Just enough prog left for a rough breakfast. To-morrow we shall have to begin travelling by day, so as to pay a visit to some farm, for we can’t do as the nags do, eat grass when they can get it and nibble green shoots when they can’t. Now then, my dear Noll, the orders for to-day are: sleep beneath this projecting shelf.”“But I say,” said West, a minute or so later, “is your rifle charged? You were wiping the barrels as we rode along.”There was no reply, for Ingleborough was fast asleep, and West soon followed his example.
The report of the rifle was magical in its effect upon the Basuto ponies, each rearing up on its hind legs and striking out with its forefeet; but the same punishment was meted out by the riders—namely, a sharp tap between the ears with the barrels of the rifles—and the result was that beyond fidgeting they stood fairly still, whileflash, flash, flash, three more shots were fired. The bullets whizzed by with their peculiar noise, sounding quite close, but probably nowhere near the riders—those who fired judging in the darkness quite by sound.
“Let’s keep on at a walk,” whispered West; but, low as his utterance was, the sound reached an enemy’s ears.
“Mind what you’re about!” said someone close at hand, evidently mistaking the speaker for a friend; “one of those bullets went pretty close to my ear. Whereabouts are they?”
“Away to the right,” whispered Ingleborough, in Dutch.
“Come on then,” said the former speaker. “Ck!”
The pony the man rode made a plunge as if spurs had been suddenly dug into its sides, and the dull beat of its hoofs on the dusty soil told of the course its rider was taking.
West was about to speak when the rapid beating of hoofs came from his left, and he had hard work to restrain his own mount from joining a party of at least a dozen of the enemy as they swept by noisily in the darkness.
“What do the fools think they are going to do by galloping about like that?” said Ingleborough gruffly.
“If they had kept still they might have caught us. Hallo! Firing again!”
Three or four shots rang out on the night air, and away in front of the pair the beating of hoofs was heard again.
“Why, the country seems alive with them,” whispered West. “Hadn’t we better keep on?”
“Yes, we must chance it,” was the reply. “No one can see us twenty yards away.”
“And we ought to make the most of the darkness.”
“Hist!” whispered Ingleborough, and his companion sat fast, listening to the movements of a mounted man who was evidently proceeding cautiously across their front from left to right. Then the dull sound of hoofs ceased—went on again—ceased once more for a time, so long that West felt that their inimical neighbour must have stolen away, leaving the coast quite clear.
He was about to say so to Ingleborough, but fortunately waited a little longer, and then started, for there was the impatient stamp of a horse, followed by a sound that suggested the angry jerking of a rein, for the animal plunged and was checked again.
As far as the listeners could make out, a mounted man was not forty yards away, and the perspiration stood out in great drops upon West’s brow as he waited for the discovery which he felt must be made. For a movement on the part of either of the ponies, or a check of the rein to keep them from stretching down their necks to graze, would have been enough. But they remained abnormally still, and at last, to the satisfaction and relief of both, the Boer vedette moved off at a trot, leaving the pair of listeners once more free to breathe.
“That was a narrow escape!” said West, as soon as their late companion was fairly out of hearing.
“Yes. I suppose we ought to have dismounted and crawled up to him and put a bullet through his body,” answered Ingleborough.
“Ugh! Don’t talk about it!” replied West. “I suppose we shall have plenty of such escapes as this before we have done.”
“You’re right! But we can move on now, and—Hist! There are some more on the left.”
“I don’t hear anyone. Yes, I do. Sit fast; there’s a strong party coming along.”
West was quite right, a body of what might have been a hundred going by them at a walk some eighty or ninety yards away, and at intervals a short sharp order was given in Boer-Dutch which suggested to West commands in connection with his own drill, “Right incline!” or “Left incline!” till the commando seemed to have passed right away out of hearing.
“Now then,” said West softly, “let’s get on while we have the chance.”
The words were hardly above his breath, but in the utter stillness of the night on the veldt they penetrated sufficiently far, and in an instant both the despatch-riders knew what the brief orders they had heard meant, namely that as the commando rode along a trooper was ordered to rein up at about every hundred yards and was left as a vedette.
For no sooner had West spoken than there was a sharp challenge to left and right, running away along a line, and directly after the reports of rifles rang out and bullets whizzed like insects through the dark night air. Many flew around and over the heads of the fugitives; for the moment the discovery was made West and Ingleborough pressed their ponies’ sides and went forward at full gallop to pass through the fire in front of them.
It was close work, for guided by the sounds ofthe ponies’ hoofs, the Boers kept on firing, one shot being from close at hand—so close that the flash seemed blinding, the report tremendous. This was followed by a sharp shock, the two companions, as they tore on, cannoning against the vedette, West’s pony striking the horse in his front full upon the shoulder and driving the poor beast right in the way of Ingleborough’s, with the consequence that there was a second collision which sent the Boer and his horse prostrate, Ingleborough’s pony making a bound which cleared the struggling pair, and then racing forward alongside of its stable companion, when they galloped on shoulder to shoulder. They were followed by a scattered fire of bullets, and when these ceased West turned in his saddle and listened, to hear the heavy beat of many hoofs, telling of pursuit; but the despatch-riders were well through the line, and galloped on at full speed for the next half-hour, when they slackened down and gradually drew rein and listened.
“Can’t hear a sound!” said West.
“Nor I,” replied Ingleborough, after a pause. “So now let’s breathe our nags and go steadily, for we may very likely come upon another of these lines of mounted men.”
A short consultation was then held respecting the line of route to be followed as likely to be the most clear of the enemy.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Ingleborough, “that our best way will be to strike off west, and after we are over the river to make a good long détour.”
West said nothing, but rode on by his companion’s side, letting his pony have a loose rein so that the sure-footed little beast could pick its way and avoid stones.
“I think that will be the best plan,” said Ingleborough, after a long pause.
Still West was silent.
“What is it?” said his companion impatiently.
“I was thinking,” was the reply.
“Well, you might say something,” continued Ingleborough, in an ill-used tone. “It would be more lively if you only gave a grunt.”
“Humph!”
It was as near an imitation as the utterer could give, and Ingleborough laughed.
“Thanks,” he said. “That’s a little more cheering. I’ve been thinking, too, that if we make this détour to the west we shall get into some rougher country, where we can lie up among the rocks of some kopje when it gets broad daylight.”
“And not go on during the day?”
“Certainly not; for two reasons: our horses could not keep on without rest, and we should certainly be seen by the Boers who are crowding over the Vaal.” West was silent again.
“Hang it all!” cried Ingleborough. “Not so much as a grunt now! Look here, can you propose a better plan?”
“I don’t know about better, but I was thinking quite differently from you.”
“Let’s have your way then.”
“Perhaps you had better not. You have had some experience in your rides out on excursions with Mr Norton, and I daresay your plan is a better one than mine.”
“I don’t know,” said Ingleborough shortly. “Let’s hear yours.”
“But—”
“Let’s—hear—yours,” cried the other imperatively, and his voice sounded so harsh that West felt annoyed, and he began:
“Well, I thought of doing what you propose at first.”
“Naturally: it seems the likeliest way.”
“But after turning it over in my mind it seemed to me that the Boers would all be hurrying across the border and scouring our country, looking in all directions as they descended towards Kimberley.”
“Yes, that’s right enough. But go on; don’t hesitate. It’s your expedition, and I’m only second.”
“So I thought that we should have a far better chance and be less likely to meet with interruption if we kept on the east side of the Vaal till it turned eastward, and then, if we could get across, go on north through the enemy’s country.”
“Invade the Transvaal with an army consisting of one officer and one man?”
“There!” cried West pettishly. “I felt sure that you would ridicule my plans.”
“Then you were all wrong, lad,” cried Ingleborough warmly, “for, so far from ridiculing your plans, I think them capital. There’s success in them from the very cheek of the idea—I beg your pardon: I ought to say audacity. Why, of course, if we can only keep clear of the wandering commandos—and I think we can if we travel only by night—we shall find that nearly everyone is over the border on the way to the siege of Kimberley, and when we stop at a farm, as we shall be obliged to for provisions, we shall only find women and children.”
“But they’ll give warning of our having been there on our way to Mafeking.”
“No, they will not. How will they know that we are going to Mafeking if we don’t tell them? I’m afraid we must make up a tale. Perhaps you’ll be best at that. I’m not clever at fibbing.”
“I don’t see that we need tell the people lies,” said West shortly.
“Then we will not,” said his companion. “Perhaps we shall not be asked; but if we are I shall say that we are going right away from the fighting because we neither of us want to kill any Boers.”
“Humph!” grunted West.
“What, doesn’t that suit you? It’s true enough. I don’t want to kill any Boers, and I’m sure you don’t. Why, when you come to think that we shall be telling this to women whose husbands, sons, or brothers have been commandoed, we are sure to be treated as friends.”
“We had better act on your plan,” said West, “and then we need make up no tales.”
“Wait a minute,” said Ingleborough. “Pull up.”
West obeyed, and their ponies began to nibble the herbage.
“Now listen: can you hear anything?”
West was silent for nearly a minute, passed in straining his ears to catch the slightest sound.
“Nothing,” he said at last.
“Nothing,” said his companion. “Let’s jump down!”
West followed his companion’s example, and swung himself out of the saddle.
“Now get between the nags’ heads and hold them still. You and they will form three sides of a square: I’m going to be the fourth.”
“What for?”
“To light a match.”
“Oh, don’t stop to smoke now,” said West reproachfully. “Let’s get on.”
“Who’s going to smoke, old Jump-at-conclusions? I’m going to carry out our plan.”
Scratch! and a match blazed up, revealing Ingleborough’s face as he bent down over it to examine something bright held in one hand—something he tried to keep steady till the match burned close to his fingers and was crushed out.
“Horses’ heads are now pointing due north,” he said. “Keep where you are till I’m mounted. That’s right! Now then, up you get! That’s right! Now then! Right face—forward!”
“But you’re going east.”
“Yes,” said Ingleborough, with a little laugh, “and I’m going with West or by West all the same. We must keep on till we get to the railway, cross it, and then get over the border as soon as we can.”
“What, follow out my plan?”
“Of course! It’s ten times better than mine. Look here, my dear boy, you are a deal too modest. Recollect that you are in command, and that my duty is to obey.”
“Nonsense!”
“Sense, sir; sound sense. I’ve got enough in my head to know when a thing’s good, and you may depend upon my opposing you if I feel that you are going to act foolishly. Once for all, your idea’s capital, lad; so let’s get on as fast as we can till daybreak, and then we can lie up in safely in the enemy’s country.”
In due course the railway was reached, a breeze springing up and sweeping the sky clear so that they had a better chance of avoiding obstacles in the way, and as soon as they were well over the line the ponies were kept at a canter, which was only checked here and there over broken ground. This, however, became more plentiful as the night glided away, but the rough land and low kopjes were the only difficulties that they encountered on the enemy’s side of the border, where they passed a farm or two, rousing barking dogs, which kept on baying till the fugitives were out of hearing.
At last the pale streak right in front warned them that daylight was coming on fast, and they searched the country as they cantered on till away more to the north a rugged eminence clearly seen against the sky suggested itself as the sort of spot they required, and they now hurried their ponies on till they came to a rushing, bubbling stream running in the right direction.
“Our guide, Noll,” said Ingleborough quietly; “that will lead us right up to the kopje, where we shall find a resting-place, a good spot for hiding, and plenty of water as well.”
All proved as Ingleborough had so lightly stated; but before they reached the shelter amongst the piled-up masses of granite and ironstone, with shady trees growing in the cracks and crevices, their glasses showed them quite half-a-dozen farms dotted about the plain. They were in great doubt as to whether they were unseen when they had to dismount and lead their willing steeds into a snug little amphitheatre surrounded by rocks and trees, while the hollow itself was rich with pasturage such as the horses loved best, growing upon both sides of the clear stream whose sources were high up among the rocks.
“You see to hobbling the ponies, Noll,” said Ingleborough, “while I get up as high as I can with my glass and give an eye to the farms. If we’ve been seen someone will soon be after us. We can’t rest till we know. But eat your breakfast, and I’ll nibble mine while I watch. Don’t take off the saddles and bridles.”
West did as he was requested, and ate sparingly while he watched the horses browsing for quite an hour, before Ingleborough came down from the highest part of the kopje.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Let’s have off the saddles and bridles now. Have you hobbled them well?”
“Look,” said West.
“Capital. I didn’t doubt you; but you might have made a mistake, and if we dropped asleep and woke up to find that the ponies were gone it would be fatal to your despatch.”
“Yes; but one of us must keep watch while the other sleeps.”
“It’s of no use to try, my lad. It isn’t to be done. If we’re going to get into Mafeking in a business-like condition we must have food and rest. Come, the horses will not straggle away from this beautiful moist grass, so let’s lie down in this shady cave with its soft sandy bottom and sleep hard till sunset. Then we must be up and away again.”
“But anxiety won’t let me sleep,” said West. “I’ll sit down and watch till you wake, and then I’ll have a short sleep while you take my place.”
“Very well,” said Ingleborough, smiling.
“What are you laughing at?” said West, frowning.
“I was only thinking that you had a very hard day yesterday and that you have had an arduous time riding through the night.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, nature is nature! Try and keep awake if you can! I’m going to lie flat on my back and sleep. You’ll follow my example in less than an hour.”
“I—will—not!” said West emphatically.
But he did, as he sat back resting his shoulders against the rock and gazing out from the mouth of the cave where they had made themselves comfortable at the beautiful sunlit veldt, till it all grew dark as if a veil had been drawn over his eyes.
It was only the lids which had closed, and then, perfectly unconscious, he sank over sidewise till he lay prone on the soft sand, sleeping heavily, till a hand was laid upon his shoulder and he started into wakefulness, to see that the sun had set, that the shadows were gathering over the veldt, and then that Ingleborough was smiling in his face.
“Rested, old man?” he said. “That’s right. The nags have had a splendid feed, and they are ready for their night’s work. I haven’t seen a soul stirring. Come on! Let’s have a good drink of water and a feed, and by that time we ought to be ready to start.”
“We ought to cross the Vaal before morning,” said West.
“I doubt it,” was the reply, “for it will be rather a job, as we shall find the enemy about there. If we get across to-morrow night we shall have done well.”
“But we shall never get to Mafeking like this.”
“It’s going to be a harder task than you thought for when you volunteered so lightly, my dear boy; but we’ve undertaken to do it, and do it we will. It isn’t a work of hours nor days. It may take us weeks. Come along! I’m hungry, and so are you.”
“But tell me,” said West, “how long have you been awake?”
“Not above a quarter of an hour. We must have sleep and rest as well as food. When we’ve had the last we shall be ready for anything through the night.”
And so it proved as they rode on properly refreshed, meeting with no adventure, but being startled by the barking roars of lions twice during the night, which came to an end as they reached a very similar kopje offering just such accommodation as they had met with on the previous morning.
“Hah!” said Ingleborough. “Just enough prog left for a rough breakfast. To-morrow we shall have to begin travelling by day, so as to pay a visit to some farm, for we can’t do as the nags do, eat grass when they can get it and nibble green shoots when they can’t. Now then, my dear Noll, the orders for to-day are: sleep beneath this projecting shelf.”
“But I say,” said West, a minute or so later, “is your rifle charged? You were wiping the barrels as we rode along.”
There was no reply, for Ingleborough was fast asleep, and West soon followed his example.
Chapter Thirteen.After a Lapse.Oliver West was sleeping soundly that night from sheer fatigue; but all the same his slumber was not pleasant, for though his body was resting his brain was hard at work.Before an hour had passed he was conscious of being cold, and in a dreamy way he felt that he ought to do what under the circumstances was impossible: that is to say, put more clothes over him, or, failing them, as he had no more, roll himself over and over in the blanket that he had brought strapped to his saddle-bow and only thrown over him when he lay down to sleep. But his body was so steeped in sleep that he did not stir, and suffered from the freezing air of the night—so tremendous a change from the torrid heat of mid-day out on the veldt.Later on, about midnight, the impression came upon him that he could hear a lion far away, seeming to make the earth quiver beneath him by giving forth in the fierce beast’s strangely ventriloquial way its awe-inspiring roar, so puzzling to the listener as to whether it is far off or near. And even in his dreamy state West found himself doubting that it could be a lion’s roar that he heard so near to where civilisation had driven off most of the savage beasts of the plain. But the roar came again, nearer, and in his dreams he felt sure that he was right, and he recalled, still sleeping, the fact that now and then the king of beasts followed one or other of the straggling herds of antelopes quite close to the Boers’ farms. Then the curious barking roar ceased, and with it consciousness for some time.All at once he found himself wide awake, lying upon his back, and gazing straight up through the transparent darkness at the stars. He lay for some moments wondering what had awakened him, perfectly still, and listening intently for steps or the trampling of horses, feeling sure that the Boers were close at hand.Instinctively his hand was reached out to grasp the rifle, which he had laid by his side and covered from the dew or hoar frost, whichever might come, by throwing over it part of his blanket.As he touched it the cold perspiration began to start from every pore, for there was a whiff of hot breath upon his face, and he could dimly see that some large animal was stretching down its muzzle towards him, and for a few brief moments he lay as if paralysed, expecting to feel himself seized and dragged away, for now came back with keen clearness the recollection of having heard the distant roaring of a lion.He had hardly grasped this when once more, from somewhere near, the lion’s terrifying cry arose, evidently, as he thought in a flash, one of the companions of the huge beast at his side. In an instant now he had grasped the truth, for as the distant lion roared there came from his right the peculiar stumbling movement of one of the hobbled horses striving to get closer to where there would be human companionship, if not protection. “Poor beast!” thought West, as his fascinated eyes stared at the dim shape above him, so close that it shut out from him the light of the stars.Then the half-paralysed listener saw clearly, for the beast raised its head and uttered a low whinnying cry, which was answered from the direction where the other hobbled pony was moving.“Woho, my boy!” whispered West, with the blood now tingling through his veins, and as the pony whinnied softly again West raised himself up with his rifle in his right hand and stretched out his left for it to come in contact with the soft warm muzzle of his pony, which pressed against it, the poor brute uttering a low sigh. Quite a minute then passed, the two ponies remaining motionless, and West listening with every nerve on the strain, knowing as he did that a lion must be in very close proximity, and fully expecting every moment that there might be a tremendous bound and the savage brute would alight either upon him or upon one of the poor shivering beasts.Then, from evidently pretty close at hand, there was a low muttering growl, the barrel of West’s rifle fell into his left hand as he held the weapon pistol-wise and fired low down in the direction of the sounds.At the flash and in company with the report there was a yelping snarl and a couple of angry roars in quick succession.West fired again as nearly as he could judge where the beast would be, and the next moment Ingleborough was kneeling by his side.“What is it—lions?” he panted.“Yes,” whispered West, whose fingers were busy re-loading, and he listened for the next sound, but only to hear a deep sighing breath on either side, telling that the horses had been too much terrified to start away, or else felt that they would be safer with their masters, and that to try to gallop off meant the springing of a savage enemy upon their backs.The silence continued for nearly a minute, and then there was a vicious snarling, apparently some fifty yards away, while without a moment’s hesitation Ingleborough raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired as nearly as he could judge at the spot from whence the noise came. He fired twice, the shots being so close together as almost to be like one for a while. Then after a perceptible interval they were echoed from the walls of a distant kopje, and again from another, before they died away.“That has startled the lions,” said Ingleborough; “but I’m afraid it will startle the Boers and bring them to see what’s the matter.”“Yes, the lions are gone,” said West. “Hark at that! Who says horses have no sense?”For thecrop, crop, cropof the browsing animals had begun again from close at hand, and the comrades stood listening for some little time while the otherwise unbroken stillness once more reigned.“What’s to be done?” said West. “Shall we make a start at once, or wait for daylight?”“I was thinking,” replied Ingleborough. “If we start now we have the advantage of the darkness to hide us, but the disadvantage too, for we may go blundering right into the midst of some commando. I don’t think the firing could do us any harm, after all, for the enemy would not be able to tell where the sounds came from. I think we had better stay where we are and wait for morning.”“I think so too,” said West, with a sigh of relief; “but one of us ought to watch in case the lions come back.”“They will not come back!” said Ingleborough decisively. “From what I know of their habits they’ll have been too much scared to risk their lives again. You hit one of them; there’s no doubt about that.”“You think there was more than one?”“I should say it was a family party of an old lioness and two or three half-grown cubs.”“Then we may lie down and sleep again?”“Yes; we must trust to our luck, Noll; there’s a good deal of chance in these affairs.”West hesitated for a few minutes, and then followed his companion’s example, lying awake for some time thinking of what a strange change this was from his quiet life in the offices of the company; and then, as he began to ponder over what might be to come, the subject grew too difficult for him and he fell fast asleep.But he was the first to awaken in the grey dawn, to find that the horses were close at hand, browsing away contentedly enough, and ready to neigh softly and submit to his caress when he walked up to them; while, as soon as he had satisfied himself that they had not suffered in any way, he walked in the direction in which he had fired during the night, to find footprints in several directions, and in one place the dust among some stones torn up and scattered, as if one of the brutes had fallen on its side and scratched up the earth. Plainer still in the way of proof of what had happened, there were spots and smudges of blood, giving thorough evidence that one of the lions had been wounded by the chance shot, and had fallen, and struggled fiercely to regain its feet.He had just arrived at this conclusion when Ingleborough found him.“Hallo!” cried his companion; “that was a good blind shot, Noll. Well done, lad! A full-grown lion too! Look at its pads. It must have had a nasty flesh-wound to have bled like this.”“Do you think it’ll be lying anywhere near, half-dead, or quite?”“No! A cat has nine lives, they say; and really this kind of beast is very, hard to kill. Look, there are the pugs, along with those of three more, all half-grown, going right away yonder into the open veldt. We might hunt ’em down, but we don’t want to, eh?”“Absurd! We want to get on at once. Can you see any pug, as you call it, of Boers?”“No. I’ve had a good look round, and as soon as we’ve had a mouthful we’ll be off. I say, it’s wonderful, isn’t it, how one can sleep out here on the veldt?”“Surrounded by dangers!” replied West. Then laconically: “Yes.”Their scanty meal was soon eaten and washed down with a draught of pure water, after which they both climbed to the top of the highest part of the kopje to take a good survey of the surrounding plain.“There’s nothing in sight,” said Ingleborough quietly; “so we’ll hurry on at once while our shoes are good.”The ponies looked as fresh as ever when they were saddled and ready to start, and after an examination of the compass Ingleborough pointed out that they ought to keep along north-east to strike the Vaal somewhere that evening, and then go along its southern bank till a ford was reached, after which their journey would be north by west.“But we must be on the look-out for some lonely farm to-day,” said West. “We ought to well fill our haversacks before we start again.”“Never fear; we shall find plenty of food for sale so long as we have money to show the Boer ladies. Ready?”“Yes,” replied West, and together they sprang into their saddles and rode down the slope, their horses carefully picking their way among the stones, till the open veldt was reached. They then struck off at a quiet canter towards a rocky ridge so as to put that between them and the kopje where they had slept, in case by any possibility their shots had been heard and a party of the enemy should ride up to it to make a search and in the course of it see them in the distance riding away.“And that would mean pursuit, a race, and the fastest horses to win,” said West.“As they generally do when there is fair play,” replied Ingleborough quietly. “Keep a sharp look-out forward, and I’ll keep on casting an eye back at the kopje.”The ridge was only about a couple of miles distant from their previous night’s resting-place, proving to be fairly high, but with a gradual slope: while just as they reached the spot where the ascent began Ingleborough turned in his saddle from a long look-out backwards.“This is like wringing one’s own neck,” he cried. “Now then, let’s canter up this bit, and as soon as we have topped it we need not be so cautious. Ready?”“Yes,” cried West.“Then off! Steady! No galloping; a gentle canter.”It was fortunate for the pair that they did not breathe their horses, but rode up the gentle slope at a regular lady’s canter, to find the ridge pleasantly fringed with a patch of open woodland, through which their steeds easily picked their way, and on to the farther slope, which was more dotted with forest growth; but there was nothing to hinder their rate of speed—in fact, the horses began to increase the pace as a broad grassy stretch opened before them.The moment they passed out of the woodland on to the open space West uttered a word of warning and pressed his pony’s side, for the first glance showed him that they had come right upon a Boer laager which was in the course of being broken up. Oxen were being in-spanned, men were tightening the girths of their ponies, and preparations were in progress everywhere for an advance in some direction.
Oliver West was sleeping soundly that night from sheer fatigue; but all the same his slumber was not pleasant, for though his body was resting his brain was hard at work.
Before an hour had passed he was conscious of being cold, and in a dreamy way he felt that he ought to do what under the circumstances was impossible: that is to say, put more clothes over him, or, failing them, as he had no more, roll himself over and over in the blanket that he had brought strapped to his saddle-bow and only thrown over him when he lay down to sleep. But his body was so steeped in sleep that he did not stir, and suffered from the freezing air of the night—so tremendous a change from the torrid heat of mid-day out on the veldt.
Later on, about midnight, the impression came upon him that he could hear a lion far away, seeming to make the earth quiver beneath him by giving forth in the fierce beast’s strangely ventriloquial way its awe-inspiring roar, so puzzling to the listener as to whether it is far off or near. And even in his dreamy state West found himself doubting that it could be a lion’s roar that he heard so near to where civilisation had driven off most of the savage beasts of the plain. But the roar came again, nearer, and in his dreams he felt sure that he was right, and he recalled, still sleeping, the fact that now and then the king of beasts followed one or other of the straggling herds of antelopes quite close to the Boers’ farms. Then the curious barking roar ceased, and with it consciousness for some time.
All at once he found himself wide awake, lying upon his back, and gazing straight up through the transparent darkness at the stars. He lay for some moments wondering what had awakened him, perfectly still, and listening intently for steps or the trampling of horses, feeling sure that the Boers were close at hand.
Instinctively his hand was reached out to grasp the rifle, which he had laid by his side and covered from the dew or hoar frost, whichever might come, by throwing over it part of his blanket.
As he touched it the cold perspiration began to start from every pore, for there was a whiff of hot breath upon his face, and he could dimly see that some large animal was stretching down its muzzle towards him, and for a few brief moments he lay as if paralysed, expecting to feel himself seized and dragged away, for now came back with keen clearness the recollection of having heard the distant roaring of a lion.
He had hardly grasped this when once more, from somewhere near, the lion’s terrifying cry arose, evidently, as he thought in a flash, one of the companions of the huge beast at his side. In an instant now he had grasped the truth, for as the distant lion roared there came from his right the peculiar stumbling movement of one of the hobbled horses striving to get closer to where there would be human companionship, if not protection. “Poor beast!” thought West, as his fascinated eyes stared at the dim shape above him, so close that it shut out from him the light of the stars.
Then the half-paralysed listener saw clearly, for the beast raised its head and uttered a low whinnying cry, which was answered from the direction where the other hobbled pony was moving.
“Woho, my boy!” whispered West, with the blood now tingling through his veins, and as the pony whinnied softly again West raised himself up with his rifle in his right hand and stretched out his left for it to come in contact with the soft warm muzzle of his pony, which pressed against it, the poor brute uttering a low sigh. Quite a minute then passed, the two ponies remaining motionless, and West listening with every nerve on the strain, knowing as he did that a lion must be in very close proximity, and fully expecting every moment that there might be a tremendous bound and the savage brute would alight either upon him or upon one of the poor shivering beasts.
Then, from evidently pretty close at hand, there was a low muttering growl, the barrel of West’s rifle fell into his left hand as he held the weapon pistol-wise and fired low down in the direction of the sounds.
At the flash and in company with the report there was a yelping snarl and a couple of angry roars in quick succession.
West fired again as nearly as he could judge where the beast would be, and the next moment Ingleborough was kneeling by his side.
“What is it—lions?” he panted.
“Yes,” whispered West, whose fingers were busy re-loading, and he listened for the next sound, but only to hear a deep sighing breath on either side, telling that the horses had been too much terrified to start away, or else felt that they would be safer with their masters, and that to try to gallop off meant the springing of a savage enemy upon their backs.
The silence continued for nearly a minute, and then there was a vicious snarling, apparently some fifty yards away, while without a moment’s hesitation Ingleborough raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired as nearly as he could judge at the spot from whence the noise came. He fired twice, the shots being so close together as almost to be like one for a while. Then after a perceptible interval they were echoed from the walls of a distant kopje, and again from another, before they died away.
“That has startled the lions,” said Ingleborough; “but I’m afraid it will startle the Boers and bring them to see what’s the matter.”
“Yes, the lions are gone,” said West. “Hark at that! Who says horses have no sense?”
For thecrop, crop, cropof the browsing animals had begun again from close at hand, and the comrades stood listening for some little time while the otherwise unbroken stillness once more reigned.
“What’s to be done?” said West. “Shall we make a start at once, or wait for daylight?”
“I was thinking,” replied Ingleborough. “If we start now we have the advantage of the darkness to hide us, but the disadvantage too, for we may go blundering right into the midst of some commando. I don’t think the firing could do us any harm, after all, for the enemy would not be able to tell where the sounds came from. I think we had better stay where we are and wait for morning.”
“I think so too,” said West, with a sigh of relief; “but one of us ought to watch in case the lions come back.”
“They will not come back!” said Ingleborough decisively. “From what I know of their habits they’ll have been too much scared to risk their lives again. You hit one of them; there’s no doubt about that.”
“You think there was more than one?”
“I should say it was a family party of an old lioness and two or three half-grown cubs.”
“Then we may lie down and sleep again?”
“Yes; we must trust to our luck, Noll; there’s a good deal of chance in these affairs.”
West hesitated for a few minutes, and then followed his companion’s example, lying awake for some time thinking of what a strange change this was from his quiet life in the offices of the company; and then, as he began to ponder over what might be to come, the subject grew too difficult for him and he fell fast asleep.
But he was the first to awaken in the grey dawn, to find that the horses were close at hand, browsing away contentedly enough, and ready to neigh softly and submit to his caress when he walked up to them; while, as soon as he had satisfied himself that they had not suffered in any way, he walked in the direction in which he had fired during the night, to find footprints in several directions, and in one place the dust among some stones torn up and scattered, as if one of the brutes had fallen on its side and scratched up the earth. Plainer still in the way of proof of what had happened, there were spots and smudges of blood, giving thorough evidence that one of the lions had been wounded by the chance shot, and had fallen, and struggled fiercely to regain its feet.
He had just arrived at this conclusion when Ingleborough found him.
“Hallo!” cried his companion; “that was a good blind shot, Noll. Well done, lad! A full-grown lion too! Look at its pads. It must have had a nasty flesh-wound to have bled like this.”
“Do you think it’ll be lying anywhere near, half-dead, or quite?”
“No! A cat has nine lives, they say; and really this kind of beast is very, hard to kill. Look, there are the pugs, along with those of three more, all half-grown, going right away yonder into the open veldt. We might hunt ’em down, but we don’t want to, eh?”
“Absurd! We want to get on at once. Can you see any pug, as you call it, of Boers?”
“No. I’ve had a good look round, and as soon as we’ve had a mouthful we’ll be off. I say, it’s wonderful, isn’t it, how one can sleep out here on the veldt?”
“Surrounded by dangers!” replied West. Then laconically: “Yes.”
Their scanty meal was soon eaten and washed down with a draught of pure water, after which they both climbed to the top of the highest part of the kopje to take a good survey of the surrounding plain.
“There’s nothing in sight,” said Ingleborough quietly; “so we’ll hurry on at once while our shoes are good.”
The ponies looked as fresh as ever when they were saddled and ready to start, and after an examination of the compass Ingleborough pointed out that they ought to keep along north-east to strike the Vaal somewhere that evening, and then go along its southern bank till a ford was reached, after which their journey would be north by west.
“But we must be on the look-out for some lonely farm to-day,” said West. “We ought to well fill our haversacks before we start again.”
“Never fear; we shall find plenty of food for sale so long as we have money to show the Boer ladies. Ready?”
“Yes,” replied West, and together they sprang into their saddles and rode down the slope, their horses carefully picking their way among the stones, till the open veldt was reached. They then struck off at a quiet canter towards a rocky ridge so as to put that between them and the kopje where they had slept, in case by any possibility their shots had been heard and a party of the enemy should ride up to it to make a search and in the course of it see them in the distance riding away.
“And that would mean pursuit, a race, and the fastest horses to win,” said West.
“As they generally do when there is fair play,” replied Ingleborough quietly. “Keep a sharp look-out forward, and I’ll keep on casting an eye back at the kopje.”
The ridge was only about a couple of miles distant from their previous night’s resting-place, proving to be fairly high, but with a gradual slope: while just as they reached the spot where the ascent began Ingleborough turned in his saddle from a long look-out backwards.
“This is like wringing one’s own neck,” he cried. “Now then, let’s canter up this bit, and as soon as we have topped it we need not be so cautious. Ready?”
“Yes,” cried West.
“Then off! Steady! No galloping; a gentle canter.”
It was fortunate for the pair that they did not breathe their horses, but rode up the gentle slope at a regular lady’s canter, to find the ridge pleasantly fringed with a patch of open woodland, through which their steeds easily picked their way, and on to the farther slope, which was more dotted with forest growth; but there was nothing to hinder their rate of speed—in fact, the horses began to increase the pace as a broad grassy stretch opened before them.
The moment they passed out of the woodland on to the open space West uttered a word of warning and pressed his pony’s side, for the first glance showed him that they had come right upon a Boer laager which was in the course of being broken up. Oxen were being in-spanned, men were tightening the girths of their ponies, and preparations were in progress everywhere for an advance in some direction.