Chapter Twenty Seven.Night on the Veldt.The Kaffir grunted, and began what Ingleborough afterwards called “chuntering,” but he obeyed at once, leading the ponies at a quick walk in and out amongst several ostrich enclosures, till they were quite a quarter of a mile from the farm, from which there came the buzz of voices and the occasional stamp of a horse on the still night air.“No more wire fence!” said their guide, and indicating that they should urge the ponies forward he took his shield and spears from Ingleborough, caught hold of the mane of West’s pony, and then as they broke into a canter, ran lightly by the animal’s side, talking softly, and now and then breaking out into a merry laugh.“Ought burn Tant’ Ann!” he said. “Wicked old witch! Very fat! Make her good vrouw!”“I’m afraid Jack’s morals are sadly in need of improvement, lad,” said Ingleborough at last.“What a horrible idea!” replied West, with a shudder; “and the worst of it is that the fellow seems to consider that it would have been a good piece of fun.”“Yes, it is his nature to, as we are told of the bears and lions in the poems of Dr Watts. I dare say the old woman had been a horrible tyrant to the poor fellow!”“But the hideous revenge!”“Which hasn’t come off, my lad! But the black scoundrel’s ideas are shocking in the extreme, and I would not associate with him much in the future. Here! Hi! Olebo, stop!”The young man drew rein, and the black looked up enquiringly.“Lie down and listen for the Boers!”The Kaffir nodded, and trotted a dozen yards away from the side of the ponies, threw himself down, listened, jumped up, and repeated the performance three times at greater distances before returning.“No hear!” he said. “Gone other way.”“It would be safe then to strike a match and look at the compass,” suggested West, and, taking out his box, he struck a light, shaded it in his slouch hat, and then held the little pocket compass to it.“Well, which way are we going?”“Due east.”“Then we’ll turn due north, and travel that way till to-morrow night, and see what that brings forth.”Starting off again, they journeyed on, sometimes at a walk, sometimes at an easy canter, so as to save the horses as much as possible, while the Kaffir kept up, seeming not in the slightest degree distressed, but ready to enter into conversation at any time, after changing from one side to the other so as to hold on by a different hand.“Soon be daylight now,” said West; “but I hope this fellow does not expect to keep on with us, does he?”“Oh no, I don’t think so for a moment. We’ll pull up before sunrise at some sheltered place and have a good look-out for danger before letting the ponies graze and having breakfast. Let’s see what happens then!”But the sun was well up before a suitable kopje came in sight, one so small that it did not appear likely to contain enemies, but sufficiently elevated to give an observer a good view for miles through the clear veldt air.“Looks safe!” said Ingleborough; “but burnt English children fear the Boer fire. Let’s have a good circle round.”This was begun, and the black instantly grasped what was intended, and hanging well down from West’s stirrup-leather, he began to search the ground carefully for tracks, looking up from time to time and pointing out those of antelopes, lions, and ostriches, but never the hoof of horse or the footprint of man.“No Boer there!” he said. “No one come. Good water,” he continued, pointing to the slight tracts of grass which had sprung up where a stream rising among the rocks was losing itself in the dry soil, but which looked brighter and greener as it was nearer to the kopje, which was fairly furnished with thorn-bush and decent-sized trees.“Any Boers hiding there?” said West sharply.“Boers ride there on ponies!” replied the Kaffir decisively, as he pointed down at the drab dust. “No ponies make marks.”“That’s enough,” said Ingleborough. “Come along.”Without hesitation now they put their mounts to a canter, rode up to the pleasant refreshing-looking place, and after leaving the ponies with the Kaffir and climbing to one of the highest points, took a good look round. This proved that there was not a mounted man in sight, and they descended to select a spot where there was plenty of herbage and water for their steeds, when they sat down and began to breakfast.“Nothing like a fine appetite,” said West, after they had been eating for some little time; “but this biltong is rather like eating a leg of mahogany dining-table into which a good deal of salt gravy and furniture oil has been allowed to soak.”“Yes, it is rather wooden,” said Ingleborough coolly. “Must wear out a man’s teeth a good deal.”“Eland,” said the Kaffir, tapping his stick of the dried meat on seeing his companions examining and smelling the food. “Old baas shoot eland, Olebo cut him up and dry him in the sun. Good.”“Well, it isn’t bad, O child of nature! But I say, how far do you mean to come with us?”“No go any more,” replied the man. “Go Olebo kraal, see wife. Give her big shilling and little yellow shilling.—Good?”He brought out the sovereign from where it had been placed, and held it up.“Good? Yes,” said West, and he set to work to try and explain by making the black bring out a florin and then holding up his outspread ten fingers, when the man seemed to have some idea of his meaning.“Look here, I’ll get it into his benighted intellect; but I should have thought that he would have known what a sovereign was worth.”Just then the Kaffir nodded sharply, after examining the coin.“Gold?” he said, in Dutch.“Of course,” said Ingleborough, taking out a sovereign and ten more florins, which he placed in a heap and at a short distance from the little pile he laid down the sovereign. “Look here, Olebo,” he said, taking up the ten florins. “Buy four blankets!”The Kaffir nodded, and his instructor replaced the heavy coins in his pocket to take up the sovereign.“Now, see here,” said Ingleborough, holding it out. “Buy four blankets.”“Ah!” cried the delighted black, snatching out his own treasured coins, the gold in one hand, the silver in the other. “Buy four blankets for Olebo wife,” he cried, holding forward the silver. Then putting it behind him he held out the sovereign: “Buy four blankets for Olebo.”“Now we’ve got it,” cried West, laughing, and watching the way in which the black hid his cash away. “I say,” he continued, to his companion, speaking in English, “where does he put that money to keep it safe?”“I dunno,” said Ingleborough. “It seems to come natural to these Kaffirs to hide away their treasures cunningly. See how artful they are over the diamonds! He doesn’t put the cash in his trousers pockets, nor yet in his waistcoat, nor yet his coat, because he has neither one nor the other. I expect he has a little snake-skin bag somewhere inside his leather-loincloth. But here, I’m thirsty; let’s have some water!”As he spoke Ingleborough sprang up and walked towards the head of the spruit, followed by his companions, and they passed the two ponies, which were hard at work on the rich green herbage along the border of the stream. Then, getting well ahead of them, all lay down and thoroughly quenched their thirst.“Now,” said West, “what next? We ought to go on at once,” and he unconsciously laid his hand upon the spot where the despatch was hidden.“No,” replied Ingleborough, “that won’t do. We seem safe here, and we must hasten slowly. We’re ready enough to go on, but the ponies must be properly nursed. They want more grass and a rest.”“The sun is getting hot too,” said West, in acknowledgment of his comrade’s words of wisdom.“We’ll stop till evening, lad,” continued Ingleborough, “and take it in turn to sleep in the shade of those bushes if we can find a soft spot. We had no rest last night.”“I suppose that must be it,” replied West, and he joined in a sigh on finding a satisfactory spot beneath a mass of granite from which overhung a quantity of thorn-bush and creeper which formed an impenetrable shade.The black followed them, noting keenly every movement and trying hard to gather the meaning of the English words.“Two baas lie down long time, go to sleep,” he said at last, in broken Dutch. “Olebo sit and look, see if Boer come. See Boer, make baas wake up.”“No,” said West; “you two lie down and sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”Ingleborough made no opposition, and after West had climbed up to a spot beneath a tree from which he could get a good stretch of the veldt in view, the others lay down at once and did not stir a limb till West stepped down to them, when the Kaffir sprang up without awakening Ingleborough.“Olebo look for Boers now,” he said.West hesitated, and the Kaffir grasped the meaning of his silence.“Olebo come and tell baas when big old baas go to fetch Boers,” he said.“So you did,” cried the young Englishman warmly, “and I’ll trust you now. Mind the ponies don’t stray away.”The black showed his beautiful, white teeth in a happy satisfied laugh.“Too much grass, too much nice water,” he said. “Basuto pony don’t go away from baas only to find grass.”“You’re right!” said West. “Wait till the sun is there!” he continued, pointing to where it would be about two hours after mid-day, “and then wake the other baas.”The Kaffir nodded, and West lay down to rest, as he put it to himself, for he was convinced that he would be unable to sleep; but he had not lain back five minutes, gazing at the sunlit rivulet and the ponies grazing, before his lids closed and all was nothingness till he was roused by a touch from Ingleborough.The sun was just dipping like a huge orange ball in the vermilion and golden west.“Had a good nap, old fellow?”“Oh, it’s wonderful!” said the young man, springing up. “I don’t seem to have been asleep five minutes.”“I suppose not. Well, all’s right, and Blackjack is waiting to say good-bye. He wants to start off home.”The Kaffir came up from where he had been patting and caressing the ponies, and stood looking at them as motionless in the ruddy evening light as a great bronze image.“Olebo go now,” he said, turning his shield to show that the remains of his share of the provisions were secured to the handle by a rough net of freshly-plaited grassy rush. “Olebo see baas, both baas, some day.” He accompanied the words with a wistful look at each, and before they could think of what to say in reply he turned himself sharply and ran off at a rapid rate, getting out of sight as quickly as he could by keeping close to the bushes, before striking out into the veldt.“Humph! I suppose they are treacherous savages, some of them,” said Ingleborough thoughtfully; “but there doesn’t seem to be much harm in that fellow if he were used well.”“I believe he’d make a very faithful servant,” said West sadly. “I’m beginning to be sorry we let him go.”“So am I. We shall feel quite lonely without him. But the despatch.”“Ah, yes, the despatch!” said West, pulling himself together. “Now then, boot and saddle, and a long night’s ride!”“And a good day’s rest afterwards! That’s the way we must get on.”A quarter of an hour after, they had taken their bearings by compass and mounted, when the well-refreshed ponies started off at once in a brisk canter, necessitating the drawing of the rein from time to time; and then it was on, on, on at different rates beneath the wonderfully bright stars of a glorious night, during which they passed several farms and one good-sized village, which were carefully avoided, for they had enough provisions to last them for another day, and naturally if a halt was to be made to purchase more it would have to be at a seasonable time.“Yes,” said Ingleborough laughingly, “it would be a sure way of getting cartridges if we wanted them and roused up a Boer farmer in the night. He would soon give us some, the wrong way on.”“Yes,” said West, “and there would be the dogs to deal with as well. Hark at that deep-mouthed brute!”For just then the cantering of their ponies had been heard by the watch-dog at one of the farms, and it went on baying at them till the sounds grew faint.Then it was on and on again till a strange feeling of weariness began to oppress them, and they had to fight with the desire which made them bend forward and nod over their ponies’ necks, rising up again with a dislocating start.At the second time of this performance West made a great effort and began watching his companion, to see that he was just as bad. Then the intense desire to sleep began to master the watcher again.“Hi, Ingle!” he cried. “Rouse up, and let’s walk for a mile or two.”“Yes, yes.—What’s that?” cried Ingleborough, springing off his pony and cocking his rifle.For there was a sudden rushing noise as of a great crowd of animals, of what kind it was still too dark to see; but it was evident that they had come suddenly upon a migratory herd of the graceful-limbed antelopes that had probably been grazing and had been startled into flight.“Pity it was not light!” said Ingleborough, with a sigh. “We could have got some fresh meat, and then at the first patch of wood and pool of water we could have had a fire and frizzled antelope-steaks.”But a couple of hours later, when they halted for their rest and refreshment, it was stale cake, hard biltong, and cool fresh water.“Never mind, we’re miles nearer Mafeking!” said West. “How many more nights will it take?”The answer to that question had not been arrived at when they dropped asleep, lulled by the sound of rippling water and thecrop, crop, cropmade by the grazing ponies, and this time their weariness was so great that sleep overcame them both. Ingleborough was to have watched, but nature was too strong, and both slept till sundown, to rise up full of a feeling of self-reproach.
The Kaffir grunted, and began what Ingleborough afterwards called “chuntering,” but he obeyed at once, leading the ponies at a quick walk in and out amongst several ostrich enclosures, till they were quite a quarter of a mile from the farm, from which there came the buzz of voices and the occasional stamp of a horse on the still night air.
“No more wire fence!” said their guide, and indicating that they should urge the ponies forward he took his shield and spears from Ingleborough, caught hold of the mane of West’s pony, and then as they broke into a canter, ran lightly by the animal’s side, talking softly, and now and then breaking out into a merry laugh.
“Ought burn Tant’ Ann!” he said. “Wicked old witch! Very fat! Make her good vrouw!”
“I’m afraid Jack’s morals are sadly in need of improvement, lad,” said Ingleborough at last.
“What a horrible idea!” replied West, with a shudder; “and the worst of it is that the fellow seems to consider that it would have been a good piece of fun.”
“Yes, it is his nature to, as we are told of the bears and lions in the poems of Dr Watts. I dare say the old woman had been a horrible tyrant to the poor fellow!”
“But the hideous revenge!”
“Which hasn’t come off, my lad! But the black scoundrel’s ideas are shocking in the extreme, and I would not associate with him much in the future. Here! Hi! Olebo, stop!”
The young man drew rein, and the black looked up enquiringly.
“Lie down and listen for the Boers!”
The Kaffir nodded, and trotted a dozen yards away from the side of the ponies, threw himself down, listened, jumped up, and repeated the performance three times at greater distances before returning.
“No hear!” he said. “Gone other way.”
“It would be safe then to strike a match and look at the compass,” suggested West, and, taking out his box, he struck a light, shaded it in his slouch hat, and then held the little pocket compass to it.
“Well, which way are we going?”
“Due east.”
“Then we’ll turn due north, and travel that way till to-morrow night, and see what that brings forth.”
Starting off again, they journeyed on, sometimes at a walk, sometimes at an easy canter, so as to save the horses as much as possible, while the Kaffir kept up, seeming not in the slightest degree distressed, but ready to enter into conversation at any time, after changing from one side to the other so as to hold on by a different hand.
“Soon be daylight now,” said West; “but I hope this fellow does not expect to keep on with us, does he?”
“Oh no, I don’t think so for a moment. We’ll pull up before sunrise at some sheltered place and have a good look-out for danger before letting the ponies graze and having breakfast. Let’s see what happens then!”
But the sun was well up before a suitable kopje came in sight, one so small that it did not appear likely to contain enemies, but sufficiently elevated to give an observer a good view for miles through the clear veldt air.
“Looks safe!” said Ingleborough; “but burnt English children fear the Boer fire. Let’s have a good circle round.”
This was begun, and the black instantly grasped what was intended, and hanging well down from West’s stirrup-leather, he began to search the ground carefully for tracks, looking up from time to time and pointing out those of antelopes, lions, and ostriches, but never the hoof of horse or the footprint of man.
“No Boer there!” he said. “No one come. Good water,” he continued, pointing to the slight tracts of grass which had sprung up where a stream rising among the rocks was losing itself in the dry soil, but which looked brighter and greener as it was nearer to the kopje, which was fairly furnished with thorn-bush and decent-sized trees.
“Any Boers hiding there?” said West sharply.
“Boers ride there on ponies!” replied the Kaffir decisively, as he pointed down at the drab dust. “No ponies make marks.”
“That’s enough,” said Ingleborough. “Come along.”
Without hesitation now they put their mounts to a canter, rode up to the pleasant refreshing-looking place, and after leaving the ponies with the Kaffir and climbing to one of the highest points, took a good look round. This proved that there was not a mounted man in sight, and they descended to select a spot where there was plenty of herbage and water for their steeds, when they sat down and began to breakfast.
“Nothing like a fine appetite,” said West, after they had been eating for some little time; “but this biltong is rather like eating a leg of mahogany dining-table into which a good deal of salt gravy and furniture oil has been allowed to soak.”
“Yes, it is rather wooden,” said Ingleborough coolly. “Must wear out a man’s teeth a good deal.”
“Eland,” said the Kaffir, tapping his stick of the dried meat on seeing his companions examining and smelling the food. “Old baas shoot eland, Olebo cut him up and dry him in the sun. Good.”
“Well, it isn’t bad, O child of nature! But I say, how far do you mean to come with us?”
“No go any more,” replied the man. “Go Olebo kraal, see wife. Give her big shilling and little yellow shilling.—Good?”
He brought out the sovereign from where it had been placed, and held it up.
“Good? Yes,” said West, and he set to work to try and explain by making the black bring out a florin and then holding up his outspread ten fingers, when the man seemed to have some idea of his meaning.
“Look here, I’ll get it into his benighted intellect; but I should have thought that he would have known what a sovereign was worth.”
Just then the Kaffir nodded sharply, after examining the coin.
“Gold?” he said, in Dutch.
“Of course,” said Ingleborough, taking out a sovereign and ten more florins, which he placed in a heap and at a short distance from the little pile he laid down the sovereign. “Look here, Olebo,” he said, taking up the ten florins. “Buy four blankets!”
The Kaffir nodded, and his instructor replaced the heavy coins in his pocket to take up the sovereign.
“Now, see here,” said Ingleborough, holding it out. “Buy four blankets.”
“Ah!” cried the delighted black, snatching out his own treasured coins, the gold in one hand, the silver in the other. “Buy four blankets for Olebo wife,” he cried, holding forward the silver. Then putting it behind him he held out the sovereign: “Buy four blankets for Olebo.”
“Now we’ve got it,” cried West, laughing, and watching the way in which the black hid his cash away. “I say,” he continued, to his companion, speaking in English, “where does he put that money to keep it safe?”
“I dunno,” said Ingleborough. “It seems to come natural to these Kaffirs to hide away their treasures cunningly. See how artful they are over the diamonds! He doesn’t put the cash in his trousers pockets, nor yet in his waistcoat, nor yet his coat, because he has neither one nor the other. I expect he has a little snake-skin bag somewhere inside his leather-loincloth. But here, I’m thirsty; let’s have some water!”
As he spoke Ingleborough sprang up and walked towards the head of the spruit, followed by his companions, and they passed the two ponies, which were hard at work on the rich green herbage along the border of the stream. Then, getting well ahead of them, all lay down and thoroughly quenched their thirst.
“Now,” said West, “what next? We ought to go on at once,” and he unconsciously laid his hand upon the spot where the despatch was hidden.
“No,” replied Ingleborough, “that won’t do. We seem safe here, and we must hasten slowly. We’re ready enough to go on, but the ponies must be properly nursed. They want more grass and a rest.”
“The sun is getting hot too,” said West, in acknowledgment of his comrade’s words of wisdom.
“We’ll stop till evening, lad,” continued Ingleborough, “and take it in turn to sleep in the shade of those bushes if we can find a soft spot. We had no rest last night.”
“I suppose that must be it,” replied West, and he joined in a sigh on finding a satisfactory spot beneath a mass of granite from which overhung a quantity of thorn-bush and creeper which formed an impenetrable shade.
The black followed them, noting keenly every movement and trying hard to gather the meaning of the English words.
“Two baas lie down long time, go to sleep,” he said at last, in broken Dutch. “Olebo sit and look, see if Boer come. See Boer, make baas wake up.”
“No,” said West; “you two lie down and sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”
Ingleborough made no opposition, and after West had climbed up to a spot beneath a tree from which he could get a good stretch of the veldt in view, the others lay down at once and did not stir a limb till West stepped down to them, when the Kaffir sprang up without awakening Ingleborough.
“Olebo look for Boers now,” he said.
West hesitated, and the Kaffir grasped the meaning of his silence.
“Olebo come and tell baas when big old baas go to fetch Boers,” he said.
“So you did,” cried the young Englishman warmly, “and I’ll trust you now. Mind the ponies don’t stray away.”
The black showed his beautiful, white teeth in a happy satisfied laugh.
“Too much grass, too much nice water,” he said. “Basuto pony don’t go away from baas only to find grass.”
“You’re right!” said West. “Wait till the sun is there!” he continued, pointing to where it would be about two hours after mid-day, “and then wake the other baas.”
The Kaffir nodded, and West lay down to rest, as he put it to himself, for he was convinced that he would be unable to sleep; but he had not lain back five minutes, gazing at the sunlit rivulet and the ponies grazing, before his lids closed and all was nothingness till he was roused by a touch from Ingleborough.
The sun was just dipping like a huge orange ball in the vermilion and golden west.
“Had a good nap, old fellow?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful!” said the young man, springing up. “I don’t seem to have been asleep five minutes.”
“I suppose not. Well, all’s right, and Blackjack is waiting to say good-bye. He wants to start off home.”
The Kaffir came up from where he had been patting and caressing the ponies, and stood looking at them as motionless in the ruddy evening light as a great bronze image.
“Olebo go now,” he said, turning his shield to show that the remains of his share of the provisions were secured to the handle by a rough net of freshly-plaited grassy rush. “Olebo see baas, both baas, some day.” He accompanied the words with a wistful look at each, and before they could think of what to say in reply he turned himself sharply and ran off at a rapid rate, getting out of sight as quickly as he could by keeping close to the bushes, before striking out into the veldt.
“Humph! I suppose they are treacherous savages, some of them,” said Ingleborough thoughtfully; “but there doesn’t seem to be much harm in that fellow if he were used well.”
“I believe he’d make a very faithful servant,” said West sadly. “I’m beginning to be sorry we let him go.”
“So am I. We shall feel quite lonely without him. But the despatch.”
“Ah, yes, the despatch!” said West, pulling himself together. “Now then, boot and saddle, and a long night’s ride!”
“And a good day’s rest afterwards! That’s the way we must get on.”
A quarter of an hour after, they had taken their bearings by compass and mounted, when the well-refreshed ponies started off at once in a brisk canter, necessitating the drawing of the rein from time to time; and then it was on, on, on at different rates beneath the wonderfully bright stars of a glorious night, during which they passed several farms and one good-sized village, which were carefully avoided, for they had enough provisions to last them for another day, and naturally if a halt was to be made to purchase more it would have to be at a seasonable time.
“Yes,” said Ingleborough laughingly, “it would be a sure way of getting cartridges if we wanted them and roused up a Boer farmer in the night. He would soon give us some, the wrong way on.”
“Yes,” said West, “and there would be the dogs to deal with as well. Hark at that deep-mouthed brute!”
For just then the cantering of their ponies had been heard by the watch-dog at one of the farms, and it went on baying at them till the sounds grew faint.
Then it was on and on again till a strange feeling of weariness began to oppress them, and they had to fight with the desire which made them bend forward and nod over their ponies’ necks, rising up again with a dislocating start.
At the second time of this performance West made a great effort and began watching his companion, to see that he was just as bad. Then the intense desire to sleep began to master the watcher again.
“Hi, Ingle!” he cried. “Rouse up, and let’s walk for a mile or two.”
“Yes, yes.—What’s that?” cried Ingleborough, springing off his pony and cocking his rifle.
For there was a sudden rushing noise as of a great crowd of animals, of what kind it was still too dark to see; but it was evident that they had come suddenly upon a migratory herd of the graceful-limbed antelopes that had probably been grazing and had been startled into flight.
“Pity it was not light!” said Ingleborough, with a sigh. “We could have got some fresh meat, and then at the first patch of wood and pool of water we could have had a fire and frizzled antelope-steaks.”
But a couple of hours later, when they halted for their rest and refreshment, it was stale cake, hard biltong, and cool fresh water.
“Never mind, we’re miles nearer Mafeking!” said West. “How many more nights will it take?”
The answer to that question had not been arrived at when they dropped asleep, lulled by the sound of rippling water and thecrop, crop, cropmade by the grazing ponies, and this time their weariness was so great that sleep overcame them both. Ingleborough was to have watched, but nature was too strong, and both slept till sundown, to rise up full of a feeling of self-reproach.
Chapter Twenty Eight.A Loud Report.Days of rest and nights of travel succeeded, during which the despatch-riders began to wonder at the ease with which they progressed.“I thought it would be twice as hard a task!” said West. “Here have we been two days without a sign of a Boer! We must be very near Mafeking now.”“Yes, very,” said Ingleborough drily; “nearer than I thought. Halt!”He drew rein as he spoke, West’s pony stopping short at the same time as its companion.They had been riding steadily on through the night, and now as the ponies stood side by side they stretched out their necks in the soft cool darkness, and the sound of their cropping told that they were amongst grass.“Why did you pull up?” said West, in a cautious whisper.“For you to hear how near we are to Mafeking now.”“Near?”“Yes; can’t you hear the firing?”“No,” said West, after a few moments’ pause. “Yes, now I do,” he cried eagerly, for all at once there was a dull concussion as if a blow had been delivered in the air.“A heavy gun,” cried West excitedly.“Hist!”“I forgot,” said West softly. “That must be one of the siege guns,” he continued.“Yes,” said Ingleborough, “and it must be near daybreak, with the bombarding beginning. Be careful; perhaps we are nearer the enemy than we thought.”At the end of a couple of minutes there was the dull concussion of another heavy gun, and this was continued at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes during the next hour, while the adventurers advanced cautiously at a walk, keeping a sharp look-out through the transparent darkness for a patch of rocks or woodland which might serve for their next halt. But day had quite dawned before a suitable place of refuge presented itself, in the shape of one of the low kopjes.“Dismount!” whispered Ingleborough sharply, and they spent the next ten minutes carefully scanning the district round in full expectation of seeing some sign of the enemy.But nothing worse was in view than two or three of the scattered farms of the open veldt, and in the distance a dark indistinct patch which appeared to be a herd of grazing cattle, but so distant that neither could be sure.On their way to the patch of rock and brush that was to be their last resting-place before making a dash for the beleaguered town, they struck upon the trail going north and south, and in two places scared off vultures from the carcass of an unfortunate ox, shrunken and dried in the sun till little but the bones and hide were left.They were too distant to make out the smoke, but steadily increasing fire told plainly enough that they were quite near enough for a dash into the town when darkness set in that night.“You think then that this will be the best way?” said West, as they reached their shelter without seeing a sign of danger.“I am not sure yet!” replied Ingleborough. “In fact, I’m very doubtful whether we should not fail, for the place is certain to be surrounded by the enemy, and we should very likely be ridden or shot down.”Oliver West laid his hand upon the despatch, pressing it so that the paper crackled beneath the cloth.“Then we had better ride in as near as we dare, and then try and creep in at the darkest time.”“Let’s pray for the clouds to be thick then!” said Ingleborough; “for the moon’s getting past the first quarter. Last night would have done exactly.”“But we were not here. Hark at the firing!”“Yes; it sounds as if Mafeking will be taken before we get there!”“For goodness’ sake don’t talk like that!”“Don’t let’s talk at all then. Let’s get well into shelter. But I see no sign of water yet.”Neither did the speaker after they had carefully explored the rocky hillock, but fortunately there was an ample supply of succulent grass for the ponies, which were soon after luxuriating in a good roll, before grazing contentedly away, while their riders, after another examination of the place and glance round from the highest point, had to satisfy themselves with a very scanty shelter and a much scantier meal.“Never mind,” said Ingleborough; “we shall be breakfasting in luxury to-morrow morning, I hope, with our appetites sharpened by the knowledge that we have achieved our task.”“I hope so!” said West gravely.“But don’t doubt, my lad,” cried Ingleborough cheerily. “Don’t be downhearted now we are so near!”“I can’t help it!” replied West. “I feel on thorns, and my state of anxiety will grow worse and worse till we get there. Hark at the firing!”“I can hear,” said Ingleborough coolly. “Be very deaf if I couldn’t! There, that’s the last scrap of cake, so let’s drown our troubles in sleep. You have first turn!”“No,” replied West. “I feel too anxious to sleep! You begin.”“Can’t,” was the reply. “If anything, I feel more anxious than you do. I couldn’t rest!”“I wish we could canter gently on till we were seen by the Boers, and then go on full gallop right into the town!” said West. “Would it be too dangerous?”“Just madness!” replied Ingleborough. “No; it must be done with guile. They would cut us off for certain.”“I’m afraid so!” said West. “Very well, then, we must wait for the evening.”“And sit wakeful,” said Ingleborough.“Yes,” said West. “Sleep is impossible!”And sit there wakeful they did, hour after hour, their only satisfaction being that of seeing their weary horses enjoying a good feed untroubled by the increasing heat, or the cares which harassed their masters.For as the sun rose higher the distant firing increased, till it was evident that a terrible attack was going on, and in his weariness and despair no words on the part of Ingleborough had any effect upon West, who felt convinced that before they could continue their journey Mafeking would have fallen into the enemy’s hands.There was no further talk of sleep. The heat, flies, hunger, and a burning thirst were either of them sufficient to have kept them awake, without the terrible feeling of anxiety and the alarms caused by bodies of horsemen or lines of wagons journeying in the direction they were waiting to take.Again and again parties of the Boers seemed to be coming straight for the hiding-place, and West and his companion crept on hands and knees towards their ponies, getting hold of their reins, and then crouching by them ready to mount and gallop for their lives should the necessity arise.But it did not, and in a strangely-feverish dreamlike way the day glided on and evening at last came, bringing with it wafts of cooler air and, what was of more consequence to them still, a feeling of hope, for though the firing still went on, it had dwindled down into the slow steady reports of one heavy piece discharged at about the same rate as when they had first heard the firing in the morning.“And it tells its own tale with truthful lips!” said Ingleborough. “The town is still holding out, and the defenders have ceased to reply.”“Because they are nearly beaten!” said West sadly.“By no means, you croaking old raven!” cried Ingleborough cheerily. “It’s because they want to save their ammunition! They only want to fire when they have something worth firing at. As for the enemy, they have the whole town to shoot at, and keep on pitching their shells in at random. There, don’t be grumpy!”“I can’t help it!” cried West passionately. “Give me credit for having kept up well till now. It’s because we are so near success that I feel everything so keenly.”“I know, old fellow, and you may trust me!” said Ingleborough. “I didn’t play a false prophet’s part just to encourage you. I’m speaking the simple truth! Just a little more patience, and you shall deliver your despatch.”“If I could only feel that!” cried West. “It may be the saving of Mafeking to receive news perhaps of help being on the way.”“Be patient then! It will soon be night, and then we’ll mount and make our final dash!”“No,” said West bitterly; “we shall have to make it now. Look.”
Days of rest and nights of travel succeeded, during which the despatch-riders began to wonder at the ease with which they progressed.
“I thought it would be twice as hard a task!” said West. “Here have we been two days without a sign of a Boer! We must be very near Mafeking now.”
“Yes, very,” said Ingleborough drily; “nearer than I thought. Halt!”
He drew rein as he spoke, West’s pony stopping short at the same time as its companion.
They had been riding steadily on through the night, and now as the ponies stood side by side they stretched out their necks in the soft cool darkness, and the sound of their cropping told that they were amongst grass.
“Why did you pull up?” said West, in a cautious whisper.
“For you to hear how near we are to Mafeking now.”
“Near?”
“Yes; can’t you hear the firing?”
“No,” said West, after a few moments’ pause. “Yes, now I do,” he cried eagerly, for all at once there was a dull concussion as if a blow had been delivered in the air.
“A heavy gun,” cried West excitedly.
“Hist!”
“I forgot,” said West softly. “That must be one of the siege guns,” he continued.
“Yes,” said Ingleborough, “and it must be near daybreak, with the bombarding beginning. Be careful; perhaps we are nearer the enemy than we thought.”
At the end of a couple of minutes there was the dull concussion of another heavy gun, and this was continued at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes during the next hour, while the adventurers advanced cautiously at a walk, keeping a sharp look-out through the transparent darkness for a patch of rocks or woodland which might serve for their next halt. But day had quite dawned before a suitable place of refuge presented itself, in the shape of one of the low kopjes.
“Dismount!” whispered Ingleborough sharply, and they spent the next ten minutes carefully scanning the district round in full expectation of seeing some sign of the enemy.
But nothing worse was in view than two or three of the scattered farms of the open veldt, and in the distance a dark indistinct patch which appeared to be a herd of grazing cattle, but so distant that neither could be sure.
On their way to the patch of rock and brush that was to be their last resting-place before making a dash for the beleaguered town, they struck upon the trail going north and south, and in two places scared off vultures from the carcass of an unfortunate ox, shrunken and dried in the sun till little but the bones and hide were left.
They were too distant to make out the smoke, but steadily increasing fire told plainly enough that they were quite near enough for a dash into the town when darkness set in that night.
“You think then that this will be the best way?” said West, as they reached their shelter without seeing a sign of danger.
“I am not sure yet!” replied Ingleborough. “In fact, I’m very doubtful whether we should not fail, for the place is certain to be surrounded by the enemy, and we should very likely be ridden or shot down.”
Oliver West laid his hand upon the despatch, pressing it so that the paper crackled beneath the cloth.
“Then we had better ride in as near as we dare, and then try and creep in at the darkest time.”
“Let’s pray for the clouds to be thick then!” said Ingleborough; “for the moon’s getting past the first quarter. Last night would have done exactly.”
“But we were not here. Hark at the firing!”
“Yes; it sounds as if Mafeking will be taken before we get there!”
“For goodness’ sake don’t talk like that!”
“Don’t let’s talk at all then. Let’s get well into shelter. But I see no sign of water yet.”
Neither did the speaker after they had carefully explored the rocky hillock, but fortunately there was an ample supply of succulent grass for the ponies, which were soon after luxuriating in a good roll, before grazing contentedly away, while their riders, after another examination of the place and glance round from the highest point, had to satisfy themselves with a very scanty shelter and a much scantier meal.
“Never mind,” said Ingleborough; “we shall be breakfasting in luxury to-morrow morning, I hope, with our appetites sharpened by the knowledge that we have achieved our task.”
“I hope so!” said West gravely.
“But don’t doubt, my lad,” cried Ingleborough cheerily. “Don’t be downhearted now we are so near!”
“I can’t help it!” replied West. “I feel on thorns, and my state of anxiety will grow worse and worse till we get there. Hark at the firing!”
“I can hear,” said Ingleborough coolly. “Be very deaf if I couldn’t! There, that’s the last scrap of cake, so let’s drown our troubles in sleep. You have first turn!”
“No,” replied West. “I feel too anxious to sleep! You begin.”
“Can’t,” was the reply. “If anything, I feel more anxious than you do. I couldn’t rest!”
“I wish we could canter gently on till we were seen by the Boers, and then go on full gallop right into the town!” said West. “Would it be too dangerous?”
“Just madness!” replied Ingleborough. “No; it must be done with guile. They would cut us off for certain.”
“I’m afraid so!” said West. “Very well, then, we must wait for the evening.”
“And sit wakeful,” said Ingleborough.
“Yes,” said West. “Sleep is impossible!”
And sit there wakeful they did, hour after hour, their only satisfaction being that of seeing their weary horses enjoying a good feed untroubled by the increasing heat, or the cares which harassed their masters.
For as the sun rose higher the distant firing increased, till it was evident that a terrible attack was going on, and in his weariness and despair no words on the part of Ingleborough had any effect upon West, who felt convinced that before they could continue their journey Mafeking would have fallen into the enemy’s hands.
There was no further talk of sleep. The heat, flies, hunger, and a burning thirst were either of them sufficient to have kept them awake, without the terrible feeling of anxiety and the alarms caused by bodies of horsemen or lines of wagons journeying in the direction they were waiting to take.
Again and again parties of the Boers seemed to be coming straight for the hiding-place, and West and his companion crept on hands and knees towards their ponies, getting hold of their reins, and then crouching by them ready to mount and gallop for their lives should the necessity arise.
But it did not, and in a strangely-feverish dreamlike way the day glided on and evening at last came, bringing with it wafts of cooler air and, what was of more consequence to them still, a feeling of hope, for though the firing still went on, it had dwindled down into the slow steady reports of one heavy piece discharged at about the same rate as when they had first heard the firing in the morning.
“And it tells its own tale with truthful lips!” said Ingleborough. “The town is still holding out, and the defenders have ceased to reply.”
“Because they are nearly beaten!” said West sadly.
“By no means, you croaking old raven!” cried Ingleborough cheerily. “It’s because they want to save their ammunition! They only want to fire when they have something worth firing at. As for the enemy, they have the whole town to shoot at, and keep on pitching their shells in at random. There, don’t be grumpy!”
“I can’t help it!” cried West passionately. “Give me credit for having kept up well till now. It’s because we are so near success that I feel everything so keenly.”
“I know, old fellow, and you may trust me!” said Ingleborough. “I didn’t play a false prophet’s part just to encourage you. I’m speaking the simple truth! Just a little more patience, and you shall deliver your despatch.”
“If I could only feel that!” cried West. “It may be the saving of Mafeking to receive news perhaps of help being on the way.”
“Be patient then! It will soon be night, and then we’ll mount and make our final dash!”
“No,” said West bitterly; “we shall have to make it now. Look.”
Chapter Twenty Nine.Hard Pushed.Ingleborough shaded his eyes and turned very grave, for on gazing in the direction pointed out by his companion’s finger he saw a column of horsemen creeping over the veldt as if coming straight for their resting-place, while as they came nearer the eager watchers could make out that the party were guarding a long train of wagons drawn by great teams of oxen. They found that there were two other teams, not of oxen, but of ponies similar to their own, and not dragging the great tilt-covered wagons, but something heavy and comparatively small.“Guns!” said Ingleborough laconically.“Yes, and heavy guns too!” cried West.“You’re right, lad; and they will not come near us. It’s an ammunition train, and they’ll go straight for Mafeking! That’s another false alarm!”Ingleborough was quite right, for the distant train crept slowly on along the track till it grew dim and distant as the sun sank lower and finally disappeared in the haze of dust. But the troubles of the despatch-bearers were not at an end, and they lay watching the west with its great masses of lit-up clouds, glorious in their colouring, till the last bright lights had died out, before they turned to look in the direction of the east. And then West drew his companion’s attention to the fact that behind them the sky was perfectly clear, and the pale moon, a couple of days past the first quarter, was gradually growing brighter and brighter in what promised to be a perfectly unclouded night.“Yes,” said Ingleborough coolly; “we shall have a glorious time for our ride.”“A glorious night for the Boer outposts to take aim at us as we ride in.”“No,” said Ingleborough coolly. “I think not!”“What do you mean?” said West, turning sharply upon his companion. “You have some fresh idea?”“Well, yes. Being in such a pickle as this sets a man sharpening his wits to try and make them keen.”“Of course. What are you going to do?”“Wait a bit and see!” replied Ingleborough coolly. “I’m sharpening still.”West turned away impatiently, to go, stooping as low as he could, towards his pony, which was straggling away, and bring it back to the bushes which had helped to hide them all the day, after which they sat in silence for about an hour, until it was quite plain that the night was as dark as it was likely to be. Then in a nervous excited way he turned to Ingleborough again.“Yes,” said the latter, without waiting for West to speak; “it will grow no darker unless we wait hours for the moon to set, and by that time I hope we shall be in Mafeking.”“What do you mean to do then?”“Mount and ride steadily on at a gentle canter till we get in touch with that ammunition train.”“But we shall be challenged by their rear-guard.”“Perhaps,” said Ingleborough coolly; “perhaps not. I reckon on getting pretty close up without. If we are challenged, I want you to do as I tell you.”“Of course,” replied West. “Anything to fulfil our task!”“Ready?”“And waiting!”“Then mount!”Their ponies were waiting patiently by their sides, and the next minute they had sprung into the saddles and rode off in the direction taken by the train.West asked no questions, for he was full of confidence in his long-tried companion, and with the ponies well-refreshed and eager from their rest, they rode steadily on, keeping a sharp look-out for danger, but meeting with no adventure for quite a couple of hours, by which time both felt that they must be getting near to the end of their journey.But they had nothing to guide them, for they were off the track, and even had they been on, it would have been impossible to follow it in the strange eerie light shed by the quarter-moon. Once they had evidence that they were in all probability going right, for a horrible odour suddenly assailed their nostrils, making them press their ponies’ sides and go past something indistinct at a gallop, holding their breath till they were well beyond what was in all probability the body of some wretched horse or ox that had died of overwork and exhaustion.“We must keep on now!” whispered Ingleborough. “I feel that we are going right.”“But the Boer laagers and outposts!” whispered back West.“Somewhere ahead, lad; but we must leave something to chance. We are, say, within half-a-dozen miles of Mafeking, so I put it; perhaps not more than two or three. Keep a sharp look-out for lights.”“The enemy’s?”“Or friends’,” replied Ingleborough. “There’s a good deal of chance now, and we must trust a little to our luck.”“In other words, you mean make a bold dash?”“Yes, but not a blind one! I want to put a little gumption into what we do! You’ll trust me?”“I will!”“Forward then, and give the ponies their heads!”West gave vent to a deep low “Hah!” of satisfaction, and away they went, with their mounts seeming to exult in the freedom from pressure on their bits, keeping close together, and bounding along over the level veldt as if perfectly familiar with the way, though their riders knew it to be bespread with pitfalls in the shape of the burrows made by the aardvarks and other animals that made the wide open veldt their home.The moon shone brightly now, though the light was puzzling, and the distance ahead looked strange and weird; but the pace at which they were going had a peculiarly exhilarating effect upon both of the riders, who seemed to share the excitement of their ponies.For, guesswork though it was, West felt that Mafeking must lie right ahead, and as they dashed on he began to feel a kind of certainty that if left to themselves their sagacious steeds would take them right into the town.A good four miles must have been passed over in this way, and at last a fresh sensation began to attack West, filling him with anxiety lest they should be going in the wrong direction. For he argued that they must before now, if right, have come upon signs of the besiegers, and he was in the act of leaning over towards Ingleborough to make him acquainted with his fears, when all doubt was chased away by a loud challenge from his right, followed by a flash and a report.That one shot was the opening note of an overture, for directly after the balls began whistling over their heads, and the first reports grew into a loud rattle followed by the trampling of horses and loud shouting.“It’s all right,” said Ingleborough coolly; “they’re firing at random. It’s impossible to take aim on a night like this! Can you see them?”“No; only the flashes!” said West excitedly.“That’s enough! Then they can’t see us! We’re through their lines too, for they’re firing behind us, and I’ll back our horses to beat theirs in a race.”Reports now began to ring out on their right, and directly after they came from their left.“Shall we shout?” whispered West.“No. What for?”“We must be getting among our own people!”“No such luck, my lad! Keep steadily on! Ah! Poor beast!”“What is it?” said West excitedly, as his mount stopped short, obeying its natural instinct and the love of companionship of a gregarious animal. For Ingleborough’s pony had suddenly uttered a peculiar neighing cry, reared up, and fallen backwards.“Are you hurt?” whispered West again.“No; I just escaped! Quick; jump down.”West was on his feet directly, and Ingleborough grasped his arm.“I’d say ride for it alone, lad,” he whispered, with his lips close to his companion’s ear; “but my way is safest. Now down on your hands and knees and let’s play wild dog or baboon!”“I don’t understand you!” whispered West.“Never mind; do as I do!” and the next minute they were going along on hands and knees over the level ground, feeling it quiver with the trampling of galloping horses all round, while the flashing of rifles and the crackling reports seemed to be coming from all directions.So near to them came some of the horsemen that West felt certain they must be seen; but there was no hail, no whistling bullet, and, wearisome though the way of progression was to the muscles and painful to hands and knees, West kept on side by side with his companion till the firing began to drop off and then ceased, though the hurrying to and fro of horses still went on.“It was sooner than I intended,” said Ingleborough at last; “but I meant for us to dismount at last and crawl. If we are seen the enemy will take us for hyaenas or dogs.”He had hardly whispered these words before a shot was fired from, their left, the bullet whistling over them, when to the astonishment of West, Ingleborough uttered a snarling yelp, followed by an excellent imitation of a dog’s bark.“Do as I do!” he whispered, and the next moment he had thrown himself upon his side and lay perfectly still.“What folly!” West was disposed to say; but he followed his companion’s example, letting himself sink sidewise like a dying quadruped, feeling the despatch crackle beneath him as he lay listening to the trampling of horses growing more distant, and waiting for Ingleborough to speak.“Seems a stupid sort of dodge!” said the latter at last; “but I thought it better to let them think we were hyaenas than human beings.”“But we had a narrow escape of being shot!” replied West.“Yes, and escaped. If they had taken us for human beings we should have been either shot or taken prisoners. Now we’re safe!”“Safe, with this bright moon shining ready to show every movement?”“Then why move until we are safe, lad? The enemy will not come near us so long as they think we are dead animals.”“But if they make out what we are—how then?”“How then?” said Ingleborough, with a low sarcastic laugh. “Why, then they’ll behave like Boers, and come and see if there’s anything worth taking in our pockets. They are sweet people! But wait a bit. As soon as they are farther off we’ll continue our journey.”“Without our horses?”“Yes; poor beasts! I’m sorry they’re gone; but daybreak will show us that we are close to Mafeking, I feel sure. We’ll crawl on as far as we can, and then get up and run for our lives.”“Yes; but you know how clever they are at bringing down a running buck!”“Some of them!” said Ingleborough drily.“Well, if I am brought down, don’t hesitate a moment: out with your knife, rip open my jacket, get the despatch, and run on.”“Do you mean that?”“Of course.”“What about you? Are you to be left wounded here on the veldt?”“Yes: until the despatch reaches the proper hands. Then come and save me if you can.”“I understand,” said Ingleborough drily. “That’s if matters come to the worst! Let’s hope they will not!”He raised his head a little and had a good look round as soon as he had finished speaking, for all was now very still, and as far as he could make out in the eerie light there was not a Boer within sight.“Now then,” he said softly; “let’s go on! No, no; not like that. Crawl, man, crawl.”He only spoke in time, for West was about to spring up. Then their painful imitation of some quadruped recommenced, West following his comrade patiently and unquestioningly till a change seemed to come over the light.“Morning coming fast!” said West.“The sooner the better,” was the reply; “for I’m not sure that we are going right.”“I’m sure we’re going wrong,” said West quickly.“Why?”“Because we are going straight for that great wagon laager.”“Yes; there’s Mafeking, with its corrugated-iron roofs, off to our right.”“Hah!” ejaculated West, for at that moment there was a flash from the front of the laager they were approaching, followed by a tremendous roar and a hissing sound overhead, as a shell winged its way towards the town, whose outskirts were certainly not more than a couple of miles away.“We’ve wasted ever so much strength,” said Ingleborough; “but never mind: we know exactly where we are. It’s about two miles’ run to the nearest houses. What do you say—go on crawling, or make a dash?”“It will be broad daylight directly,” replied West, “then we shall be discovered, and become the mark for every rifle within range. I say let’s get up and walk steadily on till we see that we are discovered, and then run for our lives.”“Wait a moment! Do you know how we shall find out that we are discovered?”“Yes,” said West coolly; “we shall have the bullets whistling about us.”“Well, you are cool!” said Ingleborough. “That’s it; and in addition we shall have some of the mounted Boers coming at full gallop.”“Perhaps,” said West; “and perhaps the Mafeking outposts will begin firing to cover us. Now then, I feel breathless to begin, for it’s rapidly getting lighter. Come on!”They rose quietly, and set off, making straight for the nearest building—a long, low, broad place with a corrugated-iron roof which seemed to be perfectly deserted; but it had one advantage—it was the nearest object to where they were, and it would, if they could reach it, form cover from which they could fire upon any mounted Boer who came in pursuit.Then with the day broadening rapidly they walked steadily on, with shell after shell arching over their heads, to fall and burst far in advance, right away in the town; but there was no sign of pursuit for quite ten minutes, and not a friend anywhere visible in the outskirts the fugitives approached.“Now then,” shouted Ingleborough suddenly; “be cool, and as you run unsling your rifle and be ready for a shot, for I’m going to fight to the last.”“Make for that shed?”“Yes. Forward; here they come.”Away they went, for West at his companion’s warning had looked sharply round, to see about a score of mounted Boers dashing after them at full gallop, and the fugitives had hardly got into the full swing of their stride before they heardcracky crack, crack, the reports of rifles far in the rear, andping, ping,ping, the whistling buzz of the thin bullets, several of which came unpleasantly near.“Open out half-a-dozen yards,” said Ingleborough, “and lessen their mark! Think we shall reach that shed?”“No,” said West coolly. “It’s farther off than I thought. Let’s stop at that clump yonder, and lie behind it to fire back.”“Very well; but they’ll ring round us and we shall be taken in flank and rear.”“Not till we’ve brought down two of them,” said West, through his teeth.“Two apiece,” said Ingleborough. “Now then, put on a spurt, and let’s get to that heap, or they’ll be down upon us before we’re half-way to the shed. Run!”They did run, with all their might; but out on the open veldt distances are horribly deceiving, especially in the early morning light, and to the despair of the fugitives the Boers came rapidly nearer, while the clump of earth for which they made seemed to be as distant as ever. The only thing they made out was that it became more diffused, and they plainly saw that it was a long ridge of earth freshly thrown up, evidently from a ditch beyond.“Why, it’s a long rifle-pit,” cried Ingleborough. “Run, lad, run; we must do it now!”But the pursuing Boers were coming on fast, and the fugitives felt that in a minute or so they would be overtaken.There was something, though, in their favour, for as the enemy converged upon them the firing from a distance ceased, those who were using their rifles fearing to hit their own friends.“It’s of no use; we can’t do it!” panted West, as Ingleborough, now that there was no need to try and diminish the mark at which the Boers fired, closed in again.“Not two hundred yards away now!” said Ingleborough hoarsely.“Let’s turn and have a couple of shots at them!” cried West.“No: we should be bound to miss. Run, run!”It was not the distance but the pace that was killing, and Ingleborough was right. To have stopped and turned to fire, with their pulses throbbing, breath coming in a laboured way, every nerve and muscle on the jump, must have resulted in missing; and the next moment the enemy would have ridden over them and they would have been either shot or prisoners.Knowing this, they tore on till the rifle-pit wasonly a hundred yards away. The foremost Boers spread out like a fan not fifty yards distant, and came on at full gallop, with the result appearing certain that before the fugitives had torn on despairingly another score of yards their enemies would be upon them.“My despatch!” groaned West to himself, and then aloud: “Halt! Fire!”True to his comrade in those despairing moments, Ingleborough obeyed the order, stopped short, swung round, and following West’s example, he was in the act of raising his rifle to his shoulder with his quivering hands, when—Crack, cracky crack, crack, crack, crack, half-a-dozen flashes and puffs of smoke came from over the ridge of the low earthwork in front, emptying four saddles, while one horse went down headlong, pierced from chest to haunch by a bullet, and the fleeing pair saw the rest of their pursuers open out right and left, to swing round and gallop away back, pursued by a crackling fire which brought down six more before they were out of range.Meanwhile twice over the big gun from its earthwork far away sent a couple of shells right over the fugitives’ heads on their way to the beleaguered town, and a few seconds later a cheery English voice had shouted: “Cease firing!” Then a dozen men came hurrying out of the rifle-pit where they had lain low, to surround the exhausted pair.“Hands up!” shouted their leader loudly. “Who are you—deserters?”“Deserters!” cried West hoarsely, as he pressed his left hand upon his breast and let his rifle fall to the ground. “Despatch—Kimberley—Water—for Heaven’s sake—help!”He sank upon his knees, for everything seemed to be swimming round him before he became quite blind.But he could hear still as he swooned away, and what he heard was a hearty British cheer.
Ingleborough shaded his eyes and turned very grave, for on gazing in the direction pointed out by his companion’s finger he saw a column of horsemen creeping over the veldt as if coming straight for their resting-place, while as they came nearer the eager watchers could make out that the party were guarding a long train of wagons drawn by great teams of oxen. They found that there were two other teams, not of oxen, but of ponies similar to their own, and not dragging the great tilt-covered wagons, but something heavy and comparatively small.
“Guns!” said Ingleborough laconically.
“Yes, and heavy guns too!” cried West.
“You’re right, lad; and they will not come near us. It’s an ammunition train, and they’ll go straight for Mafeking! That’s another false alarm!”
Ingleborough was quite right, for the distant train crept slowly on along the track till it grew dim and distant as the sun sank lower and finally disappeared in the haze of dust. But the troubles of the despatch-bearers were not at an end, and they lay watching the west with its great masses of lit-up clouds, glorious in their colouring, till the last bright lights had died out, before they turned to look in the direction of the east. And then West drew his companion’s attention to the fact that behind them the sky was perfectly clear, and the pale moon, a couple of days past the first quarter, was gradually growing brighter and brighter in what promised to be a perfectly unclouded night.
“Yes,” said Ingleborough coolly; “we shall have a glorious time for our ride.”
“A glorious night for the Boer outposts to take aim at us as we ride in.”
“No,” said Ingleborough coolly. “I think not!”
“What do you mean?” said West, turning sharply upon his companion. “You have some fresh idea?”
“Well, yes. Being in such a pickle as this sets a man sharpening his wits to try and make them keen.”
“Of course. What are you going to do?”
“Wait a bit and see!” replied Ingleborough coolly. “I’m sharpening still.”
West turned away impatiently, to go, stooping as low as he could, towards his pony, which was straggling away, and bring it back to the bushes which had helped to hide them all the day, after which they sat in silence for about an hour, until it was quite plain that the night was as dark as it was likely to be. Then in a nervous excited way he turned to Ingleborough again.
“Yes,” said the latter, without waiting for West to speak; “it will grow no darker unless we wait hours for the moon to set, and by that time I hope we shall be in Mafeking.”
“What do you mean to do then?”
“Mount and ride steadily on at a gentle canter till we get in touch with that ammunition train.”
“But we shall be challenged by their rear-guard.”
“Perhaps,” said Ingleborough coolly; “perhaps not. I reckon on getting pretty close up without. If we are challenged, I want you to do as I tell you.”
“Of course,” replied West. “Anything to fulfil our task!”
“Ready?”
“And waiting!”
“Then mount!”
Their ponies were waiting patiently by their sides, and the next minute they had sprung into the saddles and rode off in the direction taken by the train.
West asked no questions, for he was full of confidence in his long-tried companion, and with the ponies well-refreshed and eager from their rest, they rode steadily on, keeping a sharp look-out for danger, but meeting with no adventure for quite a couple of hours, by which time both felt that they must be getting near to the end of their journey.
But they had nothing to guide them, for they were off the track, and even had they been on, it would have been impossible to follow it in the strange eerie light shed by the quarter-moon. Once they had evidence that they were in all probability going right, for a horrible odour suddenly assailed their nostrils, making them press their ponies’ sides and go past something indistinct at a gallop, holding their breath till they were well beyond what was in all probability the body of some wretched horse or ox that had died of overwork and exhaustion.
“We must keep on now!” whispered Ingleborough. “I feel that we are going right.”
“But the Boer laagers and outposts!” whispered back West.
“Somewhere ahead, lad; but we must leave something to chance. We are, say, within half-a-dozen miles of Mafeking, so I put it; perhaps not more than two or three. Keep a sharp look-out for lights.”
“The enemy’s?”
“Or friends’,” replied Ingleborough. “There’s a good deal of chance now, and we must trust a little to our luck.”
“In other words, you mean make a bold dash?”
“Yes, but not a blind one! I want to put a little gumption into what we do! You’ll trust me?”
“I will!”
“Forward then, and give the ponies their heads!”
West gave vent to a deep low “Hah!” of satisfaction, and away they went, with their mounts seeming to exult in the freedom from pressure on their bits, keeping close together, and bounding along over the level veldt as if perfectly familiar with the way, though their riders knew it to be bespread with pitfalls in the shape of the burrows made by the aardvarks and other animals that made the wide open veldt their home.
The moon shone brightly now, though the light was puzzling, and the distance ahead looked strange and weird; but the pace at which they were going had a peculiarly exhilarating effect upon both of the riders, who seemed to share the excitement of their ponies.
For, guesswork though it was, West felt that Mafeking must lie right ahead, and as they dashed on he began to feel a kind of certainty that if left to themselves their sagacious steeds would take them right into the town.
A good four miles must have been passed over in this way, and at last a fresh sensation began to attack West, filling him with anxiety lest they should be going in the wrong direction. For he argued that they must before now, if right, have come upon signs of the besiegers, and he was in the act of leaning over towards Ingleborough to make him acquainted with his fears, when all doubt was chased away by a loud challenge from his right, followed by a flash and a report.
That one shot was the opening note of an overture, for directly after the balls began whistling over their heads, and the first reports grew into a loud rattle followed by the trampling of horses and loud shouting.
“It’s all right,” said Ingleborough coolly; “they’re firing at random. It’s impossible to take aim on a night like this! Can you see them?”
“No; only the flashes!” said West excitedly.
“That’s enough! Then they can’t see us! We’re through their lines too, for they’re firing behind us, and I’ll back our horses to beat theirs in a race.”
Reports now began to ring out on their right, and directly after they came from their left.
“Shall we shout?” whispered West.
“No. What for?”
“We must be getting among our own people!”
“No such luck, my lad! Keep steadily on! Ah! Poor beast!”
“What is it?” said West excitedly, as his mount stopped short, obeying its natural instinct and the love of companionship of a gregarious animal. For Ingleborough’s pony had suddenly uttered a peculiar neighing cry, reared up, and fallen backwards.
“Are you hurt?” whispered West again.
“No; I just escaped! Quick; jump down.”
West was on his feet directly, and Ingleborough grasped his arm.
“I’d say ride for it alone, lad,” he whispered, with his lips close to his companion’s ear; “but my way is safest. Now down on your hands and knees and let’s play wild dog or baboon!”
“I don’t understand you!” whispered West.
“Never mind; do as I do!” and the next minute they were going along on hands and knees over the level ground, feeling it quiver with the trampling of galloping horses all round, while the flashing of rifles and the crackling reports seemed to be coming from all directions.
So near to them came some of the horsemen that West felt certain they must be seen; but there was no hail, no whistling bullet, and, wearisome though the way of progression was to the muscles and painful to hands and knees, West kept on side by side with his companion till the firing began to drop off and then ceased, though the hurrying to and fro of horses still went on.
“It was sooner than I intended,” said Ingleborough at last; “but I meant for us to dismount at last and crawl. If we are seen the enemy will take us for hyaenas or dogs.”
He had hardly whispered these words before a shot was fired from, their left, the bullet whistling over them, when to the astonishment of West, Ingleborough uttered a snarling yelp, followed by an excellent imitation of a dog’s bark.
“Do as I do!” he whispered, and the next moment he had thrown himself upon his side and lay perfectly still.
“What folly!” West was disposed to say; but he followed his companion’s example, letting himself sink sidewise like a dying quadruped, feeling the despatch crackle beneath him as he lay listening to the trampling of horses growing more distant, and waiting for Ingleborough to speak.
“Seems a stupid sort of dodge!” said the latter at last; “but I thought it better to let them think we were hyaenas than human beings.”
“But we had a narrow escape of being shot!” replied West.
“Yes, and escaped. If they had taken us for human beings we should have been either shot or taken prisoners. Now we’re safe!”
“Safe, with this bright moon shining ready to show every movement?”
“Then why move until we are safe, lad? The enemy will not come near us so long as they think we are dead animals.”
“But if they make out what we are—how then?”
“How then?” said Ingleborough, with a low sarcastic laugh. “Why, then they’ll behave like Boers, and come and see if there’s anything worth taking in our pockets. They are sweet people! But wait a bit. As soon as they are farther off we’ll continue our journey.”
“Without our horses?”
“Yes; poor beasts! I’m sorry they’re gone; but daybreak will show us that we are close to Mafeking, I feel sure. We’ll crawl on as far as we can, and then get up and run for our lives.”
“Yes; but you know how clever they are at bringing down a running buck!”
“Some of them!” said Ingleborough drily.
“Well, if I am brought down, don’t hesitate a moment: out with your knife, rip open my jacket, get the despatch, and run on.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course.”
“What about you? Are you to be left wounded here on the veldt?”
“Yes: until the despatch reaches the proper hands. Then come and save me if you can.”
“I understand,” said Ingleborough drily. “That’s if matters come to the worst! Let’s hope they will not!”
He raised his head a little and had a good look round as soon as he had finished speaking, for all was now very still, and as far as he could make out in the eerie light there was not a Boer within sight.
“Now then,” he said softly; “let’s go on! No, no; not like that. Crawl, man, crawl.”
He only spoke in time, for West was about to spring up. Then their painful imitation of some quadruped recommenced, West following his comrade patiently and unquestioningly till a change seemed to come over the light.
“Morning coming fast!” said West.
“The sooner the better,” was the reply; “for I’m not sure that we are going right.”
“I’m sure we’re going wrong,” said West quickly.
“Why?”
“Because we are going straight for that great wagon laager.”
“Yes; there’s Mafeking, with its corrugated-iron roofs, off to our right.”
“Hah!” ejaculated West, for at that moment there was a flash from the front of the laager they were approaching, followed by a tremendous roar and a hissing sound overhead, as a shell winged its way towards the town, whose outskirts were certainly not more than a couple of miles away.
“We’ve wasted ever so much strength,” said Ingleborough; “but never mind: we know exactly where we are. It’s about two miles’ run to the nearest houses. What do you say—go on crawling, or make a dash?”
“It will be broad daylight directly,” replied West, “then we shall be discovered, and become the mark for every rifle within range. I say let’s get up and walk steadily on till we see that we are discovered, and then run for our lives.”
“Wait a moment! Do you know how we shall find out that we are discovered?”
“Yes,” said West coolly; “we shall have the bullets whistling about us.”
“Well, you are cool!” said Ingleborough. “That’s it; and in addition we shall have some of the mounted Boers coming at full gallop.”
“Perhaps,” said West; “and perhaps the Mafeking outposts will begin firing to cover us. Now then, I feel breathless to begin, for it’s rapidly getting lighter. Come on!”
They rose quietly, and set off, making straight for the nearest building—a long, low, broad place with a corrugated-iron roof which seemed to be perfectly deserted; but it had one advantage—it was the nearest object to where they were, and it would, if they could reach it, form cover from which they could fire upon any mounted Boer who came in pursuit.
Then with the day broadening rapidly they walked steadily on, with shell after shell arching over their heads, to fall and burst far in advance, right away in the town; but there was no sign of pursuit for quite ten minutes, and not a friend anywhere visible in the outskirts the fugitives approached.
“Now then,” shouted Ingleborough suddenly; “be cool, and as you run unsling your rifle and be ready for a shot, for I’m going to fight to the last.”
“Make for that shed?”
“Yes. Forward; here they come.”
Away they went, for West at his companion’s warning had looked sharply round, to see about a score of mounted Boers dashing after them at full gallop, and the fugitives had hardly got into the full swing of their stride before they heardcracky crack, crack, the reports of rifles far in the rear, andping, ping,ping, the whistling buzz of the thin bullets, several of which came unpleasantly near.
“Open out half-a-dozen yards,” said Ingleborough, “and lessen their mark! Think we shall reach that shed?”
“No,” said West coolly. “It’s farther off than I thought. Let’s stop at that clump yonder, and lie behind it to fire back.”
“Very well; but they’ll ring round us and we shall be taken in flank and rear.”
“Not till we’ve brought down two of them,” said West, through his teeth.
“Two apiece,” said Ingleborough. “Now then, put on a spurt, and let’s get to that heap, or they’ll be down upon us before we’re half-way to the shed. Run!”
They did run, with all their might; but out on the open veldt distances are horribly deceiving, especially in the early morning light, and to the despair of the fugitives the Boers came rapidly nearer, while the clump of earth for which they made seemed to be as distant as ever. The only thing they made out was that it became more diffused, and they plainly saw that it was a long ridge of earth freshly thrown up, evidently from a ditch beyond.
“Why, it’s a long rifle-pit,” cried Ingleborough. “Run, lad, run; we must do it now!”
But the pursuing Boers were coming on fast, and the fugitives felt that in a minute or so they would be overtaken.
There was something, though, in their favour, for as the enemy converged upon them the firing from a distance ceased, those who were using their rifles fearing to hit their own friends.
“It’s of no use; we can’t do it!” panted West, as Ingleborough, now that there was no need to try and diminish the mark at which the Boers fired, closed in again.
“Not two hundred yards away now!” said Ingleborough hoarsely.
“Let’s turn and have a couple of shots at them!” cried West.
“No: we should be bound to miss. Run, run!”
It was not the distance but the pace that was killing, and Ingleborough was right. To have stopped and turned to fire, with their pulses throbbing, breath coming in a laboured way, every nerve and muscle on the jump, must have resulted in missing; and the next moment the enemy would have ridden over them and they would have been either shot or prisoners.
Knowing this, they tore on till the rifle-pit wasonly a hundred yards away. The foremost Boers spread out like a fan not fifty yards distant, and came on at full gallop, with the result appearing certain that before the fugitives had torn on despairingly another score of yards their enemies would be upon them.
“My despatch!” groaned West to himself, and then aloud: “Halt! Fire!”
True to his comrade in those despairing moments, Ingleborough obeyed the order, stopped short, swung round, and following West’s example, he was in the act of raising his rifle to his shoulder with his quivering hands, when—
Crack, cracky crack, crack, crack, crack, half-a-dozen flashes and puffs of smoke came from over the ridge of the low earthwork in front, emptying four saddles, while one horse went down headlong, pierced from chest to haunch by a bullet, and the fleeing pair saw the rest of their pursuers open out right and left, to swing round and gallop away back, pursued by a crackling fire which brought down six more before they were out of range.
Meanwhile twice over the big gun from its earthwork far away sent a couple of shells right over the fugitives’ heads on their way to the beleaguered town, and a few seconds later a cheery English voice had shouted: “Cease firing!” Then a dozen men came hurrying out of the rifle-pit where they had lain low, to surround the exhausted pair.
“Hands up!” shouted their leader loudly. “Who are you—deserters?”
“Deserters!” cried West hoarsely, as he pressed his left hand upon his breast and let his rifle fall to the ground. “Despatch—Kimberley—Water—for Heaven’s sake—help!”
He sank upon his knees, for everything seemed to be swimming round him before he became quite blind.
But he could hear still as he swooned away, and what he heard was a hearty British cheer.
Chapter Thirty.At the Goal.“It has more than paid for it all!” said West that night, when they lay down to rest after a wildly-exciting day.“Yes,” replied Ingleborough, laughing. “I felt quite jealous!”“I don’t believe you!” said West sharply. “You couldn’t; they all made as much fuss over you as they did over me, from the chief downward!”“Well, I suppose they did; but I began to have the horrors once!”“Horrors?”“Yes; knowing as I did that they must be short of food, I began to think that they were welcoming us so warmly because we were something good to eat, and all the feasting was the beginning of fattening us up.”“Of course you did!” said West drily.“I say though,” continued Ingleborough; “if it is not a state secret, what was it the chief said to you when he took you aside?”“Oh, it’s no secret from you!” replied West.“Let’s have it then!”“Well, first of all, it was a lot of flattery.”“Flattery?”“Yes, about being so brave, and bringing the Kimberley despatch through the Boer lines.”“That was not flattery. You did bring the despatch to its destination very bravely.”“So did you!” said West sharply.“Oh, very well, so did I then! It wasweif you like! Being buttered is not an unpleasant sensation when you can honestly believe that you deserve it; and, without being vain, I suppose we can feel that our consciences are at rest.”“Never mind that!” said West hurriedly. “I don’t like being buttered, as you call it. The chief said then that he should have to send another despatch back to Kimberley, and that he should ask us to take it.”“What a cracker!” cried Ingleborough.“Cracker—lie? I declare he did!”“I don’t believe you.”“Very well!” said West stiffly.“No; it is not very well! Come now, he didn’t say anything aboutus. He said you. Confess: the truth!”West began to hesitate.“He—well—perhaps not exactly in the words I said.”“That will do, sir!” cried Ingleborough. “You are convicted of cramming—of making up a fictitious account of the interview. He did not allude to me.”“But he meant to include you, of course!”“No, he did not, Noll; he meant you.”“I say he meant both of us. If he did not, I shan’t go!”“What!”“I shall not go a step out of the way without my comrade!”“What!” cried Ingleborough, holding out his hand. “Well, come, I like that, lad, if you mean it.”“If I mean it, Ingle!” said West reproachfully.“All right, old chap! You always were a trump! There,we’lltake the despatch back! And now no more butter! We’re very brave fellows, of course, and there’s an end of it. I say, I wonder how Anson is getting on.”“The miserable renegade!” cried West. “I should like to see the scoundrel punished!”“Well, have patience!” said Ingleborough, laughing. “It’s a very laudable desire, which I live in hopes of seeing gratified. But don’t you think we might as well go to sleep and make up for all we have gone through?”“Yes, but who is to sleep with all this terrible bombarding going on?”“I for one!” said Ingleborough. “I’m getting quite used to it! But I say, I can see a better way of making a fortune than keeping in the diamond business.”“What is it?” said West carelessly. He was listening to the roar of the enemy’s guns and the crash of shells, for the Boers were keeping up their bombardment right into the night.“I mean to go into the gunpowder trade, and—oh dear, how—”West waited for the words that should have followed a long-drawn yawn, but none came, for the simple reason that Ingleborough was fast asleep.Ten minutes later, in the face of his suggestions to the contrary, and in spite of the steady regular discharge of artillery, sending huge shells into the place, West was just as fast asleep, and dreaming of Anson sitting gibbering at him as he played the part of a monkey filling his cheeks with nuts till the pouches were bulged out as if he were suffering from a very bad attack of mumps. The odd part of it was that when he took out and tried to crack one of the nuts in his teeth he could not, from the simple fact that they were diamonds.
“It has more than paid for it all!” said West that night, when they lay down to rest after a wildly-exciting day.
“Yes,” replied Ingleborough, laughing. “I felt quite jealous!”
“I don’t believe you!” said West sharply. “You couldn’t; they all made as much fuss over you as they did over me, from the chief downward!”
“Well, I suppose they did; but I began to have the horrors once!”
“Horrors?”
“Yes; knowing as I did that they must be short of food, I began to think that they were welcoming us so warmly because we were something good to eat, and all the feasting was the beginning of fattening us up.”
“Of course you did!” said West drily.
“I say though,” continued Ingleborough; “if it is not a state secret, what was it the chief said to you when he took you aside?”
“Oh, it’s no secret from you!” replied West.
“Let’s have it then!”
“Well, first of all, it was a lot of flattery.”
“Flattery?”
“Yes, about being so brave, and bringing the Kimberley despatch through the Boer lines.”
“That was not flattery. You did bring the despatch to its destination very bravely.”
“So did you!” said West sharply.
“Oh, very well, so did I then! It wasweif you like! Being buttered is not an unpleasant sensation when you can honestly believe that you deserve it; and, without being vain, I suppose we can feel that our consciences are at rest.”
“Never mind that!” said West hurriedly. “I don’t like being buttered, as you call it. The chief said then that he should have to send another despatch back to Kimberley, and that he should ask us to take it.”
“What a cracker!” cried Ingleborough.
“Cracker—lie? I declare he did!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Very well!” said West stiffly.
“No; it is not very well! Come now, he didn’t say anything aboutus. He said you. Confess: the truth!”
West began to hesitate.
“He—well—perhaps not exactly in the words I said.”
“That will do, sir!” cried Ingleborough. “You are convicted of cramming—of making up a fictitious account of the interview. He did not allude to me.”
“But he meant to include you, of course!”
“No, he did not, Noll; he meant you.”
“I say he meant both of us. If he did not, I shan’t go!”
“What!”
“I shall not go a step out of the way without my comrade!”
“What!” cried Ingleborough, holding out his hand. “Well, come, I like that, lad, if you mean it.”
“If I mean it, Ingle!” said West reproachfully.
“All right, old chap! You always were a trump! There,we’lltake the despatch back! And now no more butter! We’re very brave fellows, of course, and there’s an end of it. I say, I wonder how Anson is getting on.”
“The miserable renegade!” cried West. “I should like to see the scoundrel punished!”
“Well, have patience!” said Ingleborough, laughing. “It’s a very laudable desire, which I live in hopes of seeing gratified. But don’t you think we might as well go to sleep and make up for all we have gone through?”
“Yes, but who is to sleep with all this terrible bombarding going on?”
“I for one!” said Ingleborough. “I’m getting quite used to it! But I say, I can see a better way of making a fortune than keeping in the diamond business.”
“What is it?” said West carelessly. He was listening to the roar of the enemy’s guns and the crash of shells, for the Boers were keeping up their bombardment right into the night.
“I mean to go into the gunpowder trade, and—oh dear, how—”
West waited for the words that should have followed a long-drawn yawn, but none came, for the simple reason that Ingleborough was fast asleep.
Ten minutes later, in the face of his suggestions to the contrary, and in spite of the steady regular discharge of artillery, sending huge shells into the place, West was just as fast asleep, and dreaming of Anson sitting gibbering at him as he played the part of a monkey filling his cheeks with nuts till the pouches were bulged out as if he were suffering from a very bad attack of mumps. The odd part of it was that when he took out and tried to crack one of the nuts in his teeth he could not, from the simple fact that they were diamonds.
Chapter Thirty One.Bad for one: Good for two.“It’s a bad job—a very bad job,” said West, with a sigh, as he mounted one of the pair of very excellent ponies that had been provided for the despatch-riders by the gallant chief in command at Mafeking, with the laughing comment that the two brave little animals ought to consider themselves very lucky in being provided with two such masters, who would take them right away from the beleaguered town, where, if they stayed, their fate was bound to be that they would be minced into sausages or boiled down into soup.They were two beautiful little beasts; but West always sighed and said it was a bad job whenever he mounted, for his heart was sore about the pony he had lost before they entered Mafeking.“I say, young fellow,” said Ingleborough, with one of his grim smiles: “how much longer are you going to stay in mourning?”“Stay in mourning?” said West, staring, as he bent forward to pat his mount’s back.“Yes: for those two ponies we lost; because it seems to me very absurd! To begin with, it’s downright folly to bemoan the loss of one pony when you have been provided with another equally good; secondly, it is more absurd to bemoan a pony at all; and thirdly, it is the most absurd thing of all to be mourning for one that in all probability is not dead.”“Oh, they’re both dead enough by this time!” said West bitterly.“Mine may be, for it was hit; but from the way it reared up and kicked out it had no bones broken, and these Basuto ponies are such hardy little beasts that I daresay it got better; while yours was so good that you may depend upon it some Boer has it nipped tightly between his legs, and is making the most of it.”“I hope you are right!” said West. “And there, I will not mourn for them, as you call it, any more, but make the best of things. Let’s see; this is the sixth day out from Mafeking.”“Seventh,” said Ingleborough correctively.“Of course; so it is, but I lose count through being so intent upon the one idea of getting back to Kimberley. Do you think we shall manage to get through the Boer lines?”“Think? Why, we’ve got to get through them. We shouldn’t be long if we could only ride straight away, and not be always running right on to some fresh party who begin to make game of us directly.”“That’s rather an ambiguous way of speaking, Ingle,” said West, laughing, as he caressed his pony. “If anybody else heard you he would think you meant that the Boers bantered and chaffed us.”“But nobody else does hear us, and you think that I mean that they begin to pump out bullets at us just as if we were a pair of springboks. I say, I’m beginning to think that we are leading a charmed life, for it is wonderful what escapes we have had from their long-carrying rifles.”“I’m beginning to think in a much more matter-of-fact way,” replied West; “and I think this, that five hundred yards’ range is quite long enough for any rifle used on active service. I know that when one takes aim beyond that distance one is very doubtful of hitting.”“I feel so after half that distance,” replied Ingleborough, and then: “Hullo! See something?”“Yes; I thought we were going to have a good long ride in peace this morning, but look yonder!”The two young men drew rein and leaped to the ground, each hurriedly getting out his glass, for the commandant at Mafeking had supplied them with fresh ones, to steady it by resting it upon the saddle he had just quitted, their well-trained ponies standing perfectly motionless.“What do you make of it?” said Ingleborough, scanning a mistily-seen dark line right away beneath the sun.“Wagons trekking,” replied West quietly.“Friends?”“Who can say? I think not. Reinforcements and stores on the way to the besiegers, I should think.”“I’m afraid you are right! Well, we had better let the nags feed while we lie down and watch, for I don’t think they have seen us yet.”“Very well,” said West. “I’m tired of so much running away!”The next minute they were lying amongst some stones and their ponies grazing, Ingleborough coolly filling his pipe and lighting it with a burning-glass, but keeping a watchful eye upon the long train of wagons and horsemen plodding along at the customary rate of about two miles an hour, and ready at any moment to spring upon his pony in case a party of the enemy should make up their minds to try and drive in the two ponies when they caught their eye.This he knew was doubtful, for it was beginning to be a common sight upon the veldt—that of a wounded or worn-out horse or two picking up a scanty living from the grass and green points of the shrubs, while an investigation generally proved that the poor brutes were not worth the trouble of the ride.Still, on the other hand, the suspicious nature of the Boers might prompt them to see whether riders were near the grazing animals, and an opportunity for capturing a prisoner or two be theirs.The pair kept a keen look-out; but it seemed for a long time that they were to be left in peace, the long line of wagons and horsemen plodding steadily onward, completely blocking the way the bearers of the Kimberley despatch had to take.At last, though, just after West had expressed his opinion that the Boers were too intent upon getting their heavy guns on towards Mafeking, Ingleborough, unnoticed by his companion, made a sudden movement, dropping his pipe and altering the small lenses of his field-glass, through which he lay gazing, supporting himself upon his elbows.“Hah!” said West, who was similarly occupied; “they’ve got four heavy guns and a tremendous lot of stores. Wouldn’t one of our generals give something to have his men so arranged that he could cut them off in all directions! The country is so open, and not a kopje in sight. What a prize those guns would be!”“Yes,” said Ingleborough sharply; “but there is no British force at hand, so they are going to surround us instead.”“What!” cried West excitedly.“That they are, and no mistake!” continued Ingleborough, slewing himself round so as to look in a different direction.“You don’t mean—oh, Ingle! Three strong bodies coming from behind, north and south. Why, we’re trapped!”“We are, my lad; for here they come from the front.”West turned his glass again in the direction of the long line of wagons after his look round, to see that a party of the Boers were riding out straight for them.“Trapped; but we must dodge between the wires, eh?” cried West, who, like his companion, had made at once for where his pony was grazing. “Hah! Look out, Ingle!”Ingleborough was looking out, but left helpless. West had caught his pony, but his companion had startled the other by the suddenness of his approach, and, throwing up its head, the little animal cantered off with his rider after him.“Stop, stop!” shouted West. “You only scare the brute more.”“Right!” said Ingleborough sadly, and he stopped short and began to return. “There!” he cried, as West sprang into his saddle; “you have the despatch. Off with you through that opening! I won’t hinder you! I’ll turn prisoner again for a change.”“Lay hold of my pony’s tail and run! I’ll keep him to a canter, and change with you as soon as you’re tired!” said West, scanning the opening between the end of the Boer line and the party of horsemen away to his left who were making straight for them, lying towards the middle of the line, where the big guns were being dragged along.“No good!” said Ingleborough. “Off with you, and save your despatch!”“Can’t leave you, old fellow! Do as I tell you!” cried West. “Hook on!”“I will not! They won’t kill me if I throw up my hands! Save your despatch if you can!”“Obey orders, sir!” roared West fiercely, “and don’t waste time! I’m going to trot after your mount, and he’ll join us.”“Hah! Bravo, sharp brains!” cried Ingleborough excitedly, and twisting the long thick hair of the pony’s tail about his left hand he ran lightly after his companion, the pony West rode uttering a shrill neigh as they went off, which made the other stop, cock up its ears, answer, and come galloping after them, so eager to join its fellow that it brushed close past Ingleborough, who caught the rein without trouble.“Right!” he shouted, and the next minute he was in the saddle, with the ponies cantering along side by side.“More to the left!” cried West. “The Boers are bearing away to cut us off!”This was plain enough, and the fugitives saw that if a fresh party started from the end of the long line they were bound to be cut off.“Never mind,” cried Ingleborough; “we may get away! Those fellows are quite a mile from us, and their mounts will be pumped out if they push forward like that. Easy, easy! Let the ponies go their own pace!”Settling down into a canter, the fugitives now began to look away to their left, where they had seen the other parties closing them in from their flank and rear.“Hallo! Where’s the rest of the enemy?” cried West.“Yonder, out of sight! The ground lies lower there; but I say, these fellows are coming on at a tremendous rate! Gallop or they’ll cut you off.”“Then we’ll gallop!” cried West. “We, old fellow! Just as if I were going to leave you behind!”“Very nice of you,” said Ingleborough merrily; “but you’re not fit for a despatch-rider. You’re about the worst I ever knew of!”“Because I won’t forsake a friend?”“Friend be hanged! There’s no friendship in wartime. Ah, here come some of the flankers.”“Yes, I see them,” said West; “but what does this mean?”For all at once the galloping party on their right—that which had come straight from the centre of the Boer line—began to pull up until all were halted in the middle of the plain.“They see their companions coming,” said Ingleborough, “and that we are safely cut off. Well, it is giving us a better chance!”“But they’re turning and folding back,” cried West excitedly. “Here come the others, full gallop! Look, look, how they’re opening out! Gallop full speed now! No, no. Look, look! Why, Ingle, those are not rifles they’re carrying—they’re lances.”“You’re dreaming!” growled Ingleborough. “Never mind what they’re carrying; they’re going to cut us off, and we’ve got to save that despatch!”“And we shall save it too!” cried West, his voice sounding full of exultation. “Those are our Lancers—a regiment of them!”“You’re right!” cried Ingleborough excitedly now, and he began to draw rein. “Look at the Boer line. There’s proof! They’re turning back from the front and hurrying up their rear so as to form laager round their big guns. Hurrah!” he yelled, rising in his stirrups to wave his hat.“And hurrah a hundred times more!” yelled West, following his companion’s example, as he saw now in no less than four directions little clouds of horsemen moving over the widely-spreading plain.The next minute they had their glasses out and were watching the Boers—a line no longer, but broken up into what at first seemed to be wild confusion, out of which order began to form, for whoever was in command of the reinforcements on their way to Mafeking possessed enough soldierly knowledge of what was the best thing to be done under the circumstances. As the wagons in front were wheeled round to retire upon the centre formed by the four heavy guns, and those from the rear were hurried up to join in making a great square, cloud after cloud of mounted men galloped forward to seize upon any patch of shelter to hold against the advancing British force.“It’s well meant,” said Ingleborough, without taking his eyes from his glass; “but they will not have time to form a strong laager. Why, our men will be among them before a quarter of an hour is past.”“Before ten minutes!” cried West, in wild excitement. “Hurrah! Trapped this time! Look right across the laager; there are men coming on there!”It was so, and Ingleborough cheered wildly again. For the British general must have had abundant information of the coming convoy, and had taken his precautions and made his plans so accurately as to timing the advance that he had completely surrounded the long line with cavalry and mounted infantry, who now raced for the laager, heedless of the fire opened upon them by the Boers. The enemy only fired a few shots, and then, finding themselves taken in front, flank, and rear, made for their horses and took flight in every direction, but not before the Lancers got among them and dotted the veldt with horse and man.The Boer commander and those with gun and wagon worked well, bringing their heavy guns to bear on the main advance; but they were not directed at masses of men in column or line, but at a cloud of cavalry covering the plain and mingled with the enemy’s own flying horse, so that before a second discharge could be belched forth from the two large guns which were re-loaded, the Lancers, Hussars, and Volunteer Light Horse were among the gunners, and it was every man for himself,sauve qui peut.West and Ingleborough were so intent with their glasses, watching the utter rout of the Boers, that they did not see a body of Lancers bearing down upon them at a gallop, and the noise of the scattered firing kept up by the Boers drowned the trampling of hoofs, till there was a shout which made the two despatch-bearers start round in their saddles, to see a dozen sun-browned, dust-covered Lancers galloping at them with weapons levelled, headed by a young officer waving them on with his flashing sword.“Up hands!” yelled Ingleborough, and glass and hat were thrust on high.It was only just in time, the officer raising his sword as he reined up by West and caught his arm.“Hallo!” he roared, as his men surrounded the pair with lances at their breasts; “who are you?”“Despatch-riders—Mafeking to Kimberley,” cried West.“Where are your despatches then?” cried the officer sharply.“Here!” cried West.“Yah!” cried the young officer. “I thought I’d caught two Boer generals directing the fight. What a jolly sell!”“You’ve got something better among you!” said Ingleborough, joining in the laugh which rose among the men.“Have we? What?”“There are four heavy guns yonder, and a tremendous wagon train.”At that moment trumpet after trumpet rang out, and the men burst into a wild cheer, for the mounted Boers were scattering in all directions, flying for their lives, and it was plain enough that a tremendous blow had been inflicted upon a very strong force, the capture of the convoy being complete, and those in charge who had not succeeded in reaching their horses readily throwing down their arms.“We’ll, we’ve whipped!” said the young officer of Lancers, taking off his helmet to wipe his streaming face. “They can’t find fault with us at home for this, my lads! Here, open out; we must join in driving these ragged rascals back on the centre. Here, you two,” he cried, turning to West and his companion, “I must take you both in to my chief, for I don’t know that I ought to take your bare word.”“Well, I don’t think there’s much of the Dopper about either of us.”“No,” said the officer, “but the Boers have got the scum of Europe and America with them, and you may be two little bits.”“Want our rifles?” said West coolly.“No; but don’t try to bolt, either of you: it would be dangerous. My boys are rather handy with the lance!”“So I see!” said West, glancing at the points glistening at the tops of the bamboo shafts, several of which looked unpleasantly red.“And so I felt,” said Ingleborough grimly, “for one of them pressed my ribs.”
“It’s a bad job—a very bad job,” said West, with a sigh, as he mounted one of the pair of very excellent ponies that had been provided for the despatch-riders by the gallant chief in command at Mafeking, with the laughing comment that the two brave little animals ought to consider themselves very lucky in being provided with two such masters, who would take them right away from the beleaguered town, where, if they stayed, their fate was bound to be that they would be minced into sausages or boiled down into soup.
They were two beautiful little beasts; but West always sighed and said it was a bad job whenever he mounted, for his heart was sore about the pony he had lost before they entered Mafeking.
“I say, young fellow,” said Ingleborough, with one of his grim smiles: “how much longer are you going to stay in mourning?”
“Stay in mourning?” said West, staring, as he bent forward to pat his mount’s back.
“Yes: for those two ponies we lost; because it seems to me very absurd! To begin with, it’s downright folly to bemoan the loss of one pony when you have been provided with another equally good; secondly, it is more absurd to bemoan a pony at all; and thirdly, it is the most absurd thing of all to be mourning for one that in all probability is not dead.”
“Oh, they’re both dead enough by this time!” said West bitterly.
“Mine may be, for it was hit; but from the way it reared up and kicked out it had no bones broken, and these Basuto ponies are such hardy little beasts that I daresay it got better; while yours was so good that you may depend upon it some Boer has it nipped tightly between his legs, and is making the most of it.”
“I hope you are right!” said West. “And there, I will not mourn for them, as you call it, any more, but make the best of things. Let’s see; this is the sixth day out from Mafeking.”
“Seventh,” said Ingleborough correctively.
“Of course; so it is, but I lose count through being so intent upon the one idea of getting back to Kimberley. Do you think we shall manage to get through the Boer lines?”
“Think? Why, we’ve got to get through them. We shouldn’t be long if we could only ride straight away, and not be always running right on to some fresh party who begin to make game of us directly.”
“That’s rather an ambiguous way of speaking, Ingle,” said West, laughing, as he caressed his pony. “If anybody else heard you he would think you meant that the Boers bantered and chaffed us.”
“But nobody else does hear us, and you think that I mean that they begin to pump out bullets at us just as if we were a pair of springboks. I say, I’m beginning to think that we are leading a charmed life, for it is wonderful what escapes we have had from their long-carrying rifles.”
“I’m beginning to think in a much more matter-of-fact way,” replied West; “and I think this, that five hundred yards’ range is quite long enough for any rifle used on active service. I know that when one takes aim beyond that distance one is very doubtful of hitting.”
“I feel so after half that distance,” replied Ingleborough, and then: “Hullo! See something?”
“Yes; I thought we were going to have a good long ride in peace this morning, but look yonder!”
The two young men drew rein and leaped to the ground, each hurriedly getting out his glass, for the commandant at Mafeking had supplied them with fresh ones, to steady it by resting it upon the saddle he had just quitted, their well-trained ponies standing perfectly motionless.
“What do you make of it?” said Ingleborough, scanning a mistily-seen dark line right away beneath the sun.
“Wagons trekking,” replied West quietly.
“Friends?”
“Who can say? I think not. Reinforcements and stores on the way to the besiegers, I should think.”
“I’m afraid you are right! Well, we had better let the nags feed while we lie down and watch, for I don’t think they have seen us yet.”
“Very well,” said West. “I’m tired of so much running away!”
The next minute they were lying amongst some stones and their ponies grazing, Ingleborough coolly filling his pipe and lighting it with a burning-glass, but keeping a watchful eye upon the long train of wagons and horsemen plodding along at the customary rate of about two miles an hour, and ready at any moment to spring upon his pony in case a party of the enemy should make up their minds to try and drive in the two ponies when they caught their eye.
This he knew was doubtful, for it was beginning to be a common sight upon the veldt—that of a wounded or worn-out horse or two picking up a scanty living from the grass and green points of the shrubs, while an investigation generally proved that the poor brutes were not worth the trouble of the ride.
Still, on the other hand, the suspicious nature of the Boers might prompt them to see whether riders were near the grazing animals, and an opportunity for capturing a prisoner or two be theirs.
The pair kept a keen look-out; but it seemed for a long time that they were to be left in peace, the long line of wagons and horsemen plodding steadily onward, completely blocking the way the bearers of the Kimberley despatch had to take.
At last, though, just after West had expressed his opinion that the Boers were too intent upon getting their heavy guns on towards Mafeking, Ingleborough, unnoticed by his companion, made a sudden movement, dropping his pipe and altering the small lenses of his field-glass, through which he lay gazing, supporting himself upon his elbows.
“Hah!” said West, who was similarly occupied; “they’ve got four heavy guns and a tremendous lot of stores. Wouldn’t one of our generals give something to have his men so arranged that he could cut them off in all directions! The country is so open, and not a kopje in sight. What a prize those guns would be!”
“Yes,” said Ingleborough sharply; “but there is no British force at hand, so they are going to surround us instead.”
“What!” cried West excitedly.
“That they are, and no mistake!” continued Ingleborough, slewing himself round so as to look in a different direction.
“You don’t mean—oh, Ingle! Three strong bodies coming from behind, north and south. Why, we’re trapped!”
“We are, my lad; for here they come from the front.”
West turned his glass again in the direction of the long line of wagons after his look round, to see that a party of the Boers were riding out straight for them.
“Trapped; but we must dodge between the wires, eh?” cried West, who, like his companion, had made at once for where his pony was grazing. “Hah! Look out, Ingle!”
Ingleborough was looking out, but left helpless. West had caught his pony, but his companion had startled the other by the suddenness of his approach, and, throwing up its head, the little animal cantered off with his rider after him.
“Stop, stop!” shouted West. “You only scare the brute more.”
“Right!” said Ingleborough sadly, and he stopped short and began to return. “There!” he cried, as West sprang into his saddle; “you have the despatch. Off with you through that opening! I won’t hinder you! I’ll turn prisoner again for a change.”
“Lay hold of my pony’s tail and run! I’ll keep him to a canter, and change with you as soon as you’re tired!” said West, scanning the opening between the end of the Boer line and the party of horsemen away to his left who were making straight for them, lying towards the middle of the line, where the big guns were being dragged along.
“No good!” said Ingleborough. “Off with you, and save your despatch!”
“Can’t leave you, old fellow! Do as I tell you!” cried West. “Hook on!”
“I will not! They won’t kill me if I throw up my hands! Save your despatch if you can!”
“Obey orders, sir!” roared West fiercely, “and don’t waste time! I’m going to trot after your mount, and he’ll join us.”
“Hah! Bravo, sharp brains!” cried Ingleborough excitedly, and twisting the long thick hair of the pony’s tail about his left hand he ran lightly after his companion, the pony West rode uttering a shrill neigh as they went off, which made the other stop, cock up its ears, answer, and come galloping after them, so eager to join its fellow that it brushed close past Ingleborough, who caught the rein without trouble.
“Right!” he shouted, and the next minute he was in the saddle, with the ponies cantering along side by side.
“More to the left!” cried West. “The Boers are bearing away to cut us off!”
This was plain enough, and the fugitives saw that if a fresh party started from the end of the long line they were bound to be cut off.
“Never mind,” cried Ingleborough; “we may get away! Those fellows are quite a mile from us, and their mounts will be pumped out if they push forward like that. Easy, easy! Let the ponies go their own pace!”
Settling down into a canter, the fugitives now began to look away to their left, where they had seen the other parties closing them in from their flank and rear.
“Hallo! Where’s the rest of the enemy?” cried West.
“Yonder, out of sight! The ground lies lower there; but I say, these fellows are coming on at a tremendous rate! Gallop or they’ll cut you off.”
“Then we’ll gallop!” cried West. “We, old fellow! Just as if I were going to leave you behind!”
“Very nice of you,” said Ingleborough merrily; “but you’re not fit for a despatch-rider. You’re about the worst I ever knew of!”
“Because I won’t forsake a friend?”
“Friend be hanged! There’s no friendship in wartime. Ah, here come some of the flankers.”
“Yes, I see them,” said West; “but what does this mean?”
For all at once the galloping party on their right—that which had come straight from the centre of the Boer line—began to pull up until all were halted in the middle of the plain.
“They see their companions coming,” said Ingleborough, “and that we are safely cut off. Well, it is giving us a better chance!”
“But they’re turning and folding back,” cried West excitedly. “Here come the others, full gallop! Look, look, how they’re opening out! Gallop full speed now! No, no. Look, look! Why, Ingle, those are not rifles they’re carrying—they’re lances.”
“You’re dreaming!” growled Ingleborough. “Never mind what they’re carrying; they’re going to cut us off, and we’ve got to save that despatch!”
“And we shall save it too!” cried West, his voice sounding full of exultation. “Those are our Lancers—a regiment of them!”
“You’re right!” cried Ingleborough excitedly now, and he began to draw rein. “Look at the Boer line. There’s proof! They’re turning back from the front and hurrying up their rear so as to form laager round their big guns. Hurrah!” he yelled, rising in his stirrups to wave his hat.
“And hurrah a hundred times more!” yelled West, following his companion’s example, as he saw now in no less than four directions little clouds of horsemen moving over the widely-spreading plain.
The next minute they had their glasses out and were watching the Boers—a line no longer, but broken up into what at first seemed to be wild confusion, out of which order began to form, for whoever was in command of the reinforcements on their way to Mafeking possessed enough soldierly knowledge of what was the best thing to be done under the circumstances. As the wagons in front were wheeled round to retire upon the centre formed by the four heavy guns, and those from the rear were hurried up to join in making a great square, cloud after cloud of mounted men galloped forward to seize upon any patch of shelter to hold against the advancing British force.
“It’s well meant,” said Ingleborough, without taking his eyes from his glass; “but they will not have time to form a strong laager. Why, our men will be among them before a quarter of an hour is past.”
“Before ten minutes!” cried West, in wild excitement. “Hurrah! Trapped this time! Look right across the laager; there are men coming on there!”
It was so, and Ingleborough cheered wildly again. For the British general must have had abundant information of the coming convoy, and had taken his precautions and made his plans so accurately as to timing the advance that he had completely surrounded the long line with cavalry and mounted infantry, who now raced for the laager, heedless of the fire opened upon them by the Boers. The enemy only fired a few shots, and then, finding themselves taken in front, flank, and rear, made for their horses and took flight in every direction, but not before the Lancers got among them and dotted the veldt with horse and man.
The Boer commander and those with gun and wagon worked well, bringing their heavy guns to bear on the main advance; but they were not directed at masses of men in column or line, but at a cloud of cavalry covering the plain and mingled with the enemy’s own flying horse, so that before a second discharge could be belched forth from the two large guns which were re-loaded, the Lancers, Hussars, and Volunteer Light Horse were among the gunners, and it was every man for himself,sauve qui peut.
West and Ingleborough were so intent with their glasses, watching the utter rout of the Boers, that they did not see a body of Lancers bearing down upon them at a gallop, and the noise of the scattered firing kept up by the Boers drowned the trampling of hoofs, till there was a shout which made the two despatch-bearers start round in their saddles, to see a dozen sun-browned, dust-covered Lancers galloping at them with weapons levelled, headed by a young officer waving them on with his flashing sword.
“Up hands!” yelled Ingleborough, and glass and hat were thrust on high.
It was only just in time, the officer raising his sword as he reined up by West and caught his arm.
“Hallo!” he roared, as his men surrounded the pair with lances at their breasts; “who are you?”
“Despatch-riders—Mafeking to Kimberley,” cried West.
“Where are your despatches then?” cried the officer sharply.
“Here!” cried West.
“Yah!” cried the young officer. “I thought I’d caught two Boer generals directing the fight. What a jolly sell!”
“You’ve got something better among you!” said Ingleborough, joining in the laugh which rose among the men.
“Have we? What?”
“There are four heavy guns yonder, and a tremendous wagon train.”
At that moment trumpet after trumpet rang out, and the men burst into a wild cheer, for the mounted Boers were scattering in all directions, flying for their lives, and it was plain enough that a tremendous blow had been inflicted upon a very strong force, the capture of the convoy being complete, and those in charge who had not succeeded in reaching their horses readily throwing down their arms.
“We’ll, we’ve whipped!” said the young officer of Lancers, taking off his helmet to wipe his streaming face. “They can’t find fault with us at home for this, my lads! Here, open out; we must join in driving these ragged rascals back on the centre. Here, you two,” he cried, turning to West and his companion, “I must take you both in to my chief, for I don’t know that I ought to take your bare word.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s much of the Dopper about either of us.”
“No,” said the officer, “but the Boers have got the scum of Europe and America with them, and you may be two little bits.”
“Want our rifles?” said West coolly.
“No; but don’t try to bolt, either of you: it would be dangerous. My boys are rather handy with the lance!”
“So I see!” said West, glancing at the points glistening at the tops of the bamboo shafts, several of which looked unpleasantly red.
“And so I felt,” said Ingleborough grimly, “for one of them pressed my ribs.”