A dead silence, which lasted many seconds, fell upon the group, but at last the volunteer Colonel spoke out.

"I am not prepared to name anyone, sir," he said, "and I flinch from sending any man in my regiment upon so terribly perilous a journey, for it means almost to a certainty being shot down, for the bearer of the despatch will be bound to hurry on and pay no heed to challenges to stop."

"Certainly," said the Commandant, frowning; "but surely—"

"One moment, sir; I was about to say that the fairest way would be to call for volunteers, and then select the two most likely men."

"Well," said the Commandant, "do that then, and let the men fully understand that it is a most dangerous task. Mind, too, that he must be a good and a rather reckless rider, able to bear fatigue, and above all determined to do this thing for the honour of his country and the saving of his brother men.—Yes, my lad, what is it?"

For West, whose face had flushed deeply and whose blood tingled in his veins, had taken four steps forward out of the ranks, and now stood with his hand raised to the salute.

"Give me the despatch, sir," he said. "I'll take it."

"You?" cried the Commandant wonderingly, as his eyes ran over the speaker. "You are very young. But are you a good rider?"

"I think I can ride anything well enough, sir."

"Splendid rider," said a deep voice, and Ingleborough strode to the young man's side. "He'll do it, sir, if any man can; and I'll go with him to help him in the task if you'll give me orders."

"Hah!" ejaculated the Commandant. "Yes, I know you, Mr Ingleborough. You belong to the police?"

"Oh no, sir; I am only on friendly terms with the superintendent, and have been on expeditions with him."

"And you think your young friend would be a good man to carry the despatch?"

"I would trust him if I were in power, sir."

"Then I will," said the Commandant, after a long and searching look at West. "Be at my quarters in fifteen minutes' time, both of you, and we will have further talk on the matter."

The young men exchanged looks as they resumed their places in the ranks, West's countenance betokening the wild excitement he felt, while Ingleborough, who looked perfectly calm and contented, just gave him a smile and a nod.

A few minutes later they were dismissed, and the two young men had hard work to get free from their brother volunteers, who surrounded and cheered them loudly, one of the officers proposing that they should be chaired back through the town. But they escaped this on the ground of their orders to go to the Commandant's quarters, and were at last set free, to hurry away. The next minute they encountered Anson, who had heard and seen all, and passed them without a word, but wearing a peculiarly supercilious and meaning smile which broadened into a grin of contempt that made West writhe.

"Bless him!" said Ingleborough. "Do you know what the pleasant look means?"

"That he will not be happy till I've thrashed him."

"No," said Ingleborough; "he has evidently heard all, and has made up his mind that he is going to have a pleasant revenge."

"How? In what way?" cried West.

"He thinks the Boers will shoot us: that's all."

"Ah!" cried West.

"But we will not let them, my dear boy," said Ingleborough coolly. "They're slim, as they call it; but two can play at that game."

"Yes, but look: here's Mr Allan coming to say that we can't go," said West excitedly, for the chief director was approaching and raised his hand to stop them, signing to them directly after to come to his side.

"Looks as if he is going to put a stopper on our patriotism," growled Ingleborough. "We've been reckoning without our host."



CHAPTER NINE.

FOUR-LEGGED HELP.

"Here, you two boys," cried the director; "I've just heard of this wild project. Are you mad, West?"

"I hope not, sir."

"But, my good lad, I really—I—that is—bless my soul! It's very brave of you; but I don't think I ought to let you go."

"I heard you say, sir, that everyone ought to be ready to devote his life to the defence of the country."

"Eh?" cried the director. "To be sure, yes, I did—in that speech I made to the volunteers; but then you're not everybody, and—er—er—you see, what I said was in a speech, and sometimes one says more then than one quite means."

"There'll be no work doing in the office, sir," said Ingleborough; "and I hope you will not place any obstacles in the way of our going."

"Oh no, my dear boys! I feel that I must not; but I don't like you to run such a terrible risk."

"We must all run risks, sir," said West gravely.

"And I beg your pardon: our time is up for seeing the Commandant," said Ingleborough, referring to his watch.

"Yes, I heard you were to go to him," said the director. "But it sounds very rash. There, go on, and come to me afterwards."

They parted, and a few minutes later the young men were ushered into the Commandant's room.

"Then you have not repented, my lads?" he said, smiling.

"No, sir," replied West, speaking for both; "we are quite ready to go."

"Then I must take you both at your word. But once more I give you both the opportunity to draw back if you like."

"Thank you, sir," replied West; "but if you will trust us we will take the despatch."

"Very well," said the Commandant, turning very stern and business-like. "Here is the despatch. It is a very small packet, and I leave it to your own ingenuity to dispose of it where it cannot be found if you have the bad luck to be captured. It must be sewn up in your pockets, or fitted into your hats, or hidden in some way or other. I leave it to you, only telling you to destroy it sooner than it should fall into the enemy's hands."

"We'll consult together, sir, and decide what to do," replied West, looking frankly in the officer's eyes; "but—I have heard of such a thing being done, sir—"

"What do you mean?" said the Commandant sternly.

"That to ensure a despatch not falling into the enemy's hands the bearer learned its contents carefully and then burned it."

"Hah! Yes. That would make it safe," cried the officer, with a satisfied look. "But, no, it could not be done in this case. I have no right to open the despatch, and I do not know its contents. You must take it as it is, and in the event of disaster burn or bury it. Destroy it somehow. It must not fall into the enemy's hands. Here."

"I understand, sir," said West, taking the thick letter in its envelope, as it was extended to him; and the Commandant heaved a sigh as if of relief on being freed of a terrible incubus.

"There," he said, "I shall tie you down to no restrictions other than these. That packet must somehow be placed in the hands of the Colonel Commandant at Mafeking. I do not like to name failure, for you are both young, strong, and evidently full of resource; but once more: if you are driven too hard, burn or destroy the packet. Now then, what do you want in the way of arms? You have your rifles, and you had better take revolvers, which you can have with ammunition from the military stores. Do you want money?"

"No, sir; we shall require no money to signify," said Ingleborough quietly. "But we must have the best horses that can be obtained."

"Those you must provide for yourselves. Take the pick of the place, and the order shall be made for payment. My advice is that you select as good a pair of Basuto ponies as you can obtain. They will be the best for your purpose. There, I have no more to say but 'God speed you,' for it is a matter of life and death."

He shook hands warmly with both, and, on glancing back as soon as they were outside, they saw the Commandant watching them from the window, whence he waved his hand.

"He thinks we shall never get back again, Noll," said Ingleborough, smiling; "but we'll deceive him. Now then, what next?"

"We must see Mr Allan," replied West.

"Then forward," cried Ingleborough. "We must see old Norton too before we go, or he'll feel huffed. Let's go round by his place."

They found the superintendent in and ready to shake hands with them both warmly.

"Most plucky!" he kept on saying. "Wish I could go with you."

"I wish you could, and with a hundred of your men to back us up," said West laughingly.

"You ought to have a couple of thousand to do any good!" said the superintendent: "but even they would not ensure your delivering your despatch. By rights there ought to be only one of you. That would increase your chance. But it would be lonely work. What can I do for you before you go?"

"Only come and see us off this evening."

"I will," was the reply, "and wish you safe back."

"And, I say," said Ingleborough: "keep your eye on that scoundrel."

"Anson? Oh yes: trust me! I haven't done with that gentleman yet."

Directly after they were on their way to the director's room, and as they neared the door they could hear him pacing impatiently up and down as if suffering from extreme anxiety.

The step ceased as they reached and gave a tap at the door, and Mr Allan opened to them himself.

"Well," he said, "has the Commandant decided to send you?"

"Yes, sir," replied West.

"I'm very sorry, and I'm very glad; for it must be done, and I know no one more likely to get through the Boer lines than you two. Look here, you'll want money. Take these. No questions, no hesitation, my lads; buckle on the belts beneath your waistcoats. Money is the sinews of war, and you are going where you will want sinews and bones, bones and sinews too."

In his eagerness the director helped the young men to buckle on the two cash-belts he had given them.

"There," he said; "that is all I can do for you but wish you good luck. By the time you come back we shall have sent the Boers to the right-about, unless they have captured Kimberley and seized the diamond-mines. Then, of course, my occupation will be gone. Goodbye. Not hard-hearted, my boys; but rather disposed to be soft. There, goodbye."

"Now then," said West, "we've no time to spare. What are we going to do about horses?"

"We've the money at our back," replied Ingleborough, "and that will do anything. We are on Government service too, so that if we cannot pay we can pick out what we like and then report to headquarters, when they will be requisitioned."

But the task proved easy enough, for they had not gone far in the direction of the mines when they met another of the directors, who greeted them both warmly.

"I've heard all about it, my lads," he said, "and it's very brave of you both."

"Please don't say that any more, sir," cried West appealingly, "for all we have done yet is talk. If we do get the despatch through there will be some praise earned, but at present we've done nothing."

"And we're both dreadfully modest, sir," said Ingleborough.

"Bah! you're not great girls," cried the director. "But you are not off yet, and you can't walk."

"No, sir," said West; "we are in search of horses—good ones that we can trust to hold out."

"Very well; why don't you go to someone who has been buying up horses for our mounted men?"

"Because we don't know of any such person," said West. "Do you?"

"To be sure I do, my lad, and here he is."

"You, sir?" cried Ingleborough excitedly. "Why, of course; I heard that you were, and forgot in all the bustle and excitement of the coming siege. Then you can let us have two? The Commandant will give an order for the payment."

"Hang the Commandant's payments!" cried the director testily. "When young fellows like you are ready to give their lives in the Queen's service, do you think men like we are can't afford to mount them? Come along with me, and you shall have the pick of the sturdy cob ponies I have. They're rough, and almost unbroken—what sort of horsemen are you?"

"Very bad, sir," replied Ingleborough: "no style at all. We ride astride though."

"Well, so I suppose," said the director, laughing, "and with your faces to the nag's head. If you tell me you look towards the tail I shall not believe you. But seriously, can you stick on a horse tightly when at full gallop?"

"Oliver West can, sir," replied Ingleborough. "He's a regular centaur foal."

"Nonsense! Don't flatter," cried West. "I can ride a bit, sir; but Ingleborough rides as if he were part of a horse. He's accustomed to taking long rides across the veldt every morning."

"Oh, we can ride, sir," said Ingleborough coolly; "but whether we can ride well enough to distance the Boers has to be proved."

"I'll mount you, my boys, on such a pair of ponies as the Boers haven't amongst them," said the director warmly. "Do you know my stables—the rough ones and enclosure I have had made?"

"We heard something about the new stabling near the mine, sir," said West; "but we've been too busy to pay much heed."

"Come and pay heed now, then."

The speaker led the way towards the great mine buildings, and halted at a gate in a newly set-up fence of corrugated-iron, passing through which their eyes were gladdened by the sight of about a dozen of the rough, sturdy little cobs bred by the Basutos across country, and evidently under the charge of a couple of Kaffirs, who came hurrying up at the sight of their "baas," as they termed him.

Here Ingleborough soon displayed the knowledge he had picked up in connection with horses by selecting two clever-looking muscular little steeds, full of spirit and go, but quite ready to prove how little they had been broken in, and promising plenty of work to their riders if they expected to keep in their saddles.

"Be too fresh for you?" said the owner.

"We shall soon take the freshness out of them, poor things!" said Ingleborough. "Would you mind having them bridled and saddled, sir?"

The order was given, and, after a good deal of trouble and narrowly escaping being kicked, the Kaffirs brought the pair selected up to where the despatch-riders were standing with the director.

Ingleborough smiled, and then bade the two Kaffirs to stand on the far side of the ponies, which began to resent the Kaffirs' flank movements by sidling up towards the two young men.

"Ready?" said Ingleborough, in a low, sharp tone.

"Yes."

"Mount!"

They both sprang into their saddles, to the intense astonishment of the ponies, one of which made a bound and dashed off round the enclosure at full speed, while the other, upon which West was mounted, reared straight up, and, preserving its balance upon its hind legs, kept on snorting, while it sparred out with its fore hoofs as if striking at some imaginary enemy, till the rider brought his hand down heavily upon the restive beast's neck. The blow acted like magic, for the pony dropped on all-fours directly, gave itself a shake as if to rid itself of saddle and rider, and then uttered a loud neigh which brought its galloping companion alongside.

"Humph!" ejaculated their new friend; "I needn't trouble myself about your being able to manage your horses, my lads. Will these do?"

"Splendidly, sir," cried West.

"There they are, then, at your service!" And, after a few directions to the Kaffirs about having them ready when wanted, the party left the enclosure and separated with a few friendly words, the despatch-bearers making once more for the Commandant's quarters to report what they had done so far, and to obtain a pass which would ensure them a ready passage through the lines and by the outposts.

They were soon ushered into the Commandant's presence, and he nodded his satisfaction with the report of their proceedings before taking up a pen and writing a few lines upon an official sheet of paper.

"That will clear you both going and returning," said he, folding and handing the permit. "Now then, when do you start?"

"Directly, sir," said Ingleborough, who was the one addressed.

"No," said the Commandant. "You must wait a few hours. Of course it is important that the despatch be delivered as soon as possible; but you must lose time sooner than run risks. If you go now, you will be seen by the enemy and be having your horses shot down—perhaps share their fate. So be cautious, and now once more goodbye, my lads. I shall look forward to seeing you back with an answering despatch."

This was their dismissal, and they hurried away to have another look to their horses, and to see that they were well-fed, before obtaining a meal for themselves and a supply of food to store in their haversacks.

"There's nothing like a bit of foresight," said Ingleborough. "We must eat, and going in search of food may mean capture and the failure of our mission."

The time was gliding rapidly on, the more quickly to West from the state of excitement he was in; but the only important thing he could afterwards remember was that twice over they ran against Anson, who seemed to be watching their actions, and the second time West drew his companion's attention to the fact.

"Wants to see us off," said Ingleborough. "I shouldn't be surprised when we come back to find that he has eluded Norton and gone."

"Where?" said West.

"Oh, he'll feel that his chance here is completely gone, and he'll make for the Cape and take passage for England."

"If the Boers do not stop him."

"Of course," replied Ingleborough. "It's my impression that he has smuggled a lot of diamonds, though we couldn't bring it home to him."

"I suppose it's possible," said West thoughtfully. "But isn't it likely that he may make his way over to the enemy?"

Ingleborough looked at the speaker sharply.

"That's not a bad idea of yours," he said slowly; "but, if he does and he is afterwards caught, things might go very awkwardly for his lordship, and that flute of his will be for sale."

"Flute for sale? What do you mean? From poverty?—no one would employ him. Oh! I understand now. Horrible! You don't think our people would shoot him?"

"Perhaps not," said Ingleborough coldly; "but they'd treat him as a rebel and a spy. But there, it's pretty well time we started. Come along."

Within half an hour they were mounted and off on their perilous journey, passing outpost after outpost and having to make good use of their pass, till, just as it was getting dusk, they parted from an officer who rode out with them towards the Boers' encircling lines.

"There," he said, "you've got the enemy before you, and you'd better give me your pass."

"Why?" said West sharply.

"Because it has been a source of protection so far: the next time you are challenged it will be a danger."

"Of course," said Ingleborough. "Give it up, Oliver."

"Or destroy it," said the officer carelessly: "either will do."

"Thanks for the advice," said West, and they shook hands and parted, the officer riding back to join his men.

"You made him huffy by being suspicious," said Ingleborough.

"I'm sorry, but one can't help being suspicious of everything and everybody at a time like this. What do you say about destroying the Commandant's pass?"

"I'm divided in my opinion."

"So am I," said West. "One moment I think it best: the next I am for keeping it in case we fall into the hands of some of our own party. On the whole, I think we had better keep it and hide it. Let's keep it till we are in danger."

"Chance it?" said Ingleborough laconically. "Very well; only don't leave it till it is too late."

"I'll mind," said West, and, as they rode out over the open veldt and into the gloom of the falling night, they kept a sharp look-out till they had to trust more to their ears for notice of danger, taking care to speak only in a whisper, knowing as they did that at any moment they might receive a challenge from the foe.

"What are you doing?" said Ingleborough suddenly, after trying to make out what his companion was doing. "Not going to eat yet, surely?"

"No—only preparing for the time when I must. Look here."

"Too dark," said Ingleborough, leaning towards his companion.

"Very well, then, I'll tell you: I'm making a sandwich."

"Absurd! What for?"

"I'll tell you. You can't see, but this is what I'm doing. I've two slices of bread here, and I'm putting between them something that is not good food for Boers. That's it. I've doubled the pass in half, and stuck it between two slices. If we have the bad luck to be taken prisoners I shall be very hungry, and begin eating the sandwich and the pass. I don't suppose it will do me any harm."

"Capital idea," said Ingleborough, laughing.

"That's done," said West, replacing his paper sandwich in his haversack, and a few minutes later, as they still rode slowly on, Ingleborough spoke again.

"What now?" he said.

"Making another sandwich," was the reply.

"Another?"

"Yes, of the Mafeking despatch."

"Ah, of course; but you will not eat that?"

"Only in the last extremity."

"Good," said Ingleborough, "and I hope we shall have no last extremes."

He had hardly spoken when a sharp challenge in Boer-Dutch rang out, apparently from about fifty yards to their left, and, as if in obedience to the demand, the two Basuto ponies the young men rode stopped suddenly.

Ingleborough leaned down sidewise and placed his lips close to his companion's ear.

"Which is it to be?" he said. "One is as easy as the other—forward or back?"

"One's as safe as the other," replied West, under his breath. "Forward."

They were in the act of pressing their horses' sides to urge them on when there was a flash of light from the position of the man who had uttered the challenge, and almost immediately the humming, buzzing sound as of a large beetle whizzing by them in its nocturnal flight, and at the same moment there was the sharp crack of a rifle.



CHAPTER TEN.

ANSON'S BLESSING.

"Bless 'em!" said Anson to himself that same evening, "I don't wish 'em any harm. I only hope that before they've gone far the Boers will challenge them.

"I can almost see it now: getting dark, and an outpost challenges. 'Come on, gallop!' says old Ingle, and they stick their spurs into their nags and are off over the veldt. Then crack, cracky crack, go the rifles till the saddles are emptied and two gallant defenders of Kimberley and brave despatch-riders lie kicking in the dust.

"Ugh! How. I should like to be there with my flute. I'd stand and look on till they'd given their last kick and stretched themselves out straight, and then I'd play the 'Dead March' in 'Saul' all over 'em both. Don't suppose they'd know; but if they could hear it they wouldn't sneer at my 'tootling old flute'—as Ingle called it—any more.

"Urrrr! I hated the pair of 'em. Ingle was a hound—a regular sniffing, smelling-out hound, and Noll West a miserable, sneaking cur. Beasts! So very good and nice and straightforward. Hundreds of thousands of pounds' worth—yes, millions' worth of diamonds being scraped together by the company, and a poor fellow not allowed to have a handful. I don't say it's the thing to steal 'em; but who would steal? Just a bit of nice honest trade—buy in the cheapest market and sell in the dearest. It's what the company does, but nobody else ought to, of course. Who's going to ask every Kaffir who comes to you and says: 'Buy a few stones, baas?' 'Where do you get 'em from?' Not me. They've as good a right to 'em as the company, and if I like to do a bit of honest trade I will, in spite of the miserable laws they make. Hang their laws! What are they to me? Illicit-diamond-buying! Police force, eh? A snap of the fingers for it!

"A bit sooner than I expected," mused the flute-player. "A few months more, and I should have made a very big thing if the Boers hadn't upset it all and Master Ingle hadn't been so precious clever! Never mind: it isn't so very bad now! I'll be off while my shoes are good. I don't believe the Boers have got round to the south yet, and, if they have, I don't believe it'll matter. Say they do stop me, it'll only be: 'Who are you—and where are you going?' Down south or west or anywhere, to do a bit of trade. I'm sloping off—that's what I'm doing—because the British are trying to force me to volunteer to fight against my old friends the Boers. I'll soft-soap and butter 'em all over, and play 'em a tune or two upon the flute, and offer 'em some good tobacco. They won't stop me."

The quiet, plump, thoughtful-looking muser was on his way to a farm just beyond the outskirts of Kimberley, as he walked slowly through the darkness, hardly passing a soul; and he rubbed his hands softly at last as he came in sight of a dim gleaming lantern some distance ahead.

"All ready and waiting," he said softly, and now he increased his pace a little in his excitement, but only to stop short and look back once or twice as if to make sure that he was not followed. But, neither seeing nor hearing anything, he rubbed his hands again, muttered to himself something about wiping his shoes of the whole place, and went on quickly.

"Das you, baas?" said a thick guttural voice just above the lantern.

"Yes, this is me," replied Anson. "Team in-spanned?"

"Yaas, baas: big long time ago. Not tink baas come."

"But I said I would," replied Anson. "Got the water-barrel slung underneath?"

The man grunted, Anson gave an order or two in a low tone, and in response to a shout a dimly-seen team of great bullocks roughly harnessed to the dissel boom and trek tow of a long covered-in wagon began to trudge slowly along over the rough track which led to the main road leading south. A second man led the way, while the Kaffir with the light swung himself up onto the great box in front of the wagon and drew out an unusually long whip, after hanging his horn lantern to a hook in the middle of the arched tilt over his head.

"Baas come alon' heah?" said the man.

"No, go on, and I'll walk behind for a bit," said Anson, in a low tone of voice. "Go on quietly, and keep off the track. Go straight away till I tell you to turn off."

The Kaffir grunted, and the oxen plodded on at their slow two-mile-an-hour rate, leaving the last sign of occupation far behind, Anson twice over giving instructions to the man who was leading which way to steer, the result being that the creaking wagon was driven right away south and west over the open veldt, avoiding the various farms and places till Kimberley was left far behind.

It was a bright starlit night, and the long procession of big bullocks looked weird and strange in the gloom, for at times they seemed to be drawing nothing, so closely did the tilt of the great lightly-loaded wagon assimilate with the drab dusty tint of the parched earth and the dusky-coloured scrub which the great wheels crushed down.

The driver sat on the box with his huge whip, his shoulders well up and his head down, driving mechanically, and seeming to be asleep, while the voorlooper kept pace with the leading oxen, and hour after hour passed away without a word being spoken.

So the night wore on, the only watchful eyes being those of Anson, who kept on straining them forward right and left, while his ears twitched as he listened for the sounds which he knew would be uttered by a Boer vedette.

But no challenge came, and the fugitive breathed more freely as the stars paled, a long, low, sickly streak began to spread in the east, and the distance of the wide-spreading desolate veldt grew more clear.

"I knew they wouldn't be on the look-out," said Anson to himself, in an exulting fashion. "Hah! I'm all right, and I wonder how West and Ingle have got on."

It was growing broad daylight when the thoughtful-looking ex-clerk climbed up to the side of the driver.

"How far to the fontein?" he said.

"One hour, baas," was the reply.

"Is there plenty of grass?"

"Plenty, baas. Bullock much eat and drink."

The information proved quite correct, for within the specified time—the team having stepped out more readily, guided as they were by their instinct to where water, grass, and rest awaited them—and soon after the great orange globe had risen above what looked like the rim of the world, the wagon was pulled up at the edge of a broad crack in the dusty plain, where the bottom of the spruit could be seen full of rich green grass besprinkled with flowers, through which ran the clear waters of an abundant stream.

A fire was soon lighted, a billy hung over it to boil, and Anson, after watching the team, which had dragged their load so well and so far, munching away at the juicy grass, began to get out the necessaries connected with his own meal.

"Hah!" he said softly, as he rubbed his hands; "sorry I haven't got my two fellow-clerks to breakfast: it would have been so nice and Ugh!" he growled, shading his eyes to give a final look round, for there in the distance, evidently following the track by which he had come through the night, there was a little knot of horsemen cantering along, and from time to time there came a flash of light caused by the horizontal beams of the sun striking upon rifle-barrel or sword.

Anson's hands dropped to his sides, and he looked to right, left, and behind him as if meditating flight. Then his eyes went in the direction of his oxen, freshly outspanned, but he turned frowningly away as he felt that even with the team already in their places, the lumbering bullocks could not have been forced into a speed which the horses could not have overtaken in a few yards at a canter.

Then he shaded his eyes again to have a good look at the party of horsemen.

"Police," he said, in a hiss. "Yes, and that's Norton. Hfff!"

He drew in his breath, making a peculiar sound, and then, as if satisfied with the course he meant to pursue, he went back to the fire and continued his preparations for his meal, apparently paying no heed to the party of mounted police till they cantered up and came to a halt by the wagon.

"Hallo, constables!" cried Anson boisterously; "who'd have thought of seeing—Why, it's you, Mr Norton!"

"Yes," said the superintendent. "You seem surprised!"

"Why, of course I am. Got something on the way? Anyone been smuggling stones?"

"Yes," said the officer shortly.

"Sorry for them then, for I suppose you mean to catch 'em."

"I do," said the officer warningly.

"That's right; I'm just going to have some breakfast: will you have a snack with me?"

"No, thank you. I'm on business."

"Ah, you are a busy man, Mr Norton; but let bygones be bygones. Have a snack with me! You're welcome."

"I told you I was on business, Master Anson. Now, if you please, where are you going?"

"Where am I going?" said Anson warmly. "Why, down south. What's the good of my staying in Kimberley?"

"I can't answer that question, sir. Where's your pass?"

"Pass? What pass?"

"Your permit from the magistrate to leave the town."

"Permit? Nonsense!" cried Anson. "I'm turned out of the mine offices, and I'm not going to sit and starve. No one will give me work without a character. You know that."

The superintendent nodded.

"Perhaps not," he said; "but you are still a suspect, and you have no right to leave the town."

"I'm not a prisoner," said Anson defiantly, "and I'm going on my lawful way. What have you to say to that?"

"In plain English, that I believe you are going off to escape arrest and to carry off your plunder."

"My what? Plunder? Why, it's sickening! Didn't you come to my place and thoroughly search it?"

"I did search your room, but found nothing, because I believe you had everything too well hidden. Now then, if you please, what have you got in your wagon?"

"Nothing but provisions and my clothes! Why?"

"Because of your sudden flight."

"My sudden what?" said Anson, laughing.

"You know what I said, sir. Your sudden flight!"

"My sudden nonsense!" cried Anson angrily. "I have told you why I came away."

"Yes," said the superintendent; "but I'm not satisfied that this move does not mean that you have smuggled diamonds here with you to carry to where you can dispose of them."

"Well, it's of no use to argue with a policeman," said Anson coolly. "You had better make another search."



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

ANOTHER SEARCH.

"That's just what I'm going to do, Master Anson," was the reply, given sternly.

"All right," said Anson nonchalantly. "Search away; but, if I was in the police and had a good tip given me as to where the plunder I was after had been planted, I don't think I should waste time hunting blind leads, and letting the real culprits have plenty of time to get away."

"But then you are not in the police, sir," said the superintendent, with a nod. "So first of all I'll let my men run over you and your Kaffirs."

"Wait till I've lit a cigar first," said Anson, taking out a case, and then laughing, for the police officer was watching him keenly. "That's right; there are three or four diamonds in every one of these cigars, and as I smoke you'll notice that I don't burn much of the end I light, but that I keep on biting off bits of the leaf till I get to the diamonds, and then I swallow them."

He held out his cigar-case, and the superintendent took it and began to feel the cigars, till Anson burst out laughing.

"Don't pinch them too hard," he cried, "or you'll break them, and then they won't draw."

The officer returned the cigar-case with an angry ejaculation, and glanced round as if hesitating where to begin, while the horses of his men began to imitate the action of the oxen, nibbling away at the rich grass surrounding the pleasant spring.

"I say, Robert," said Anson, and the superintendent started at the familiar nickname: "I'd look smart over the business, for the Boers have been here lately to water their horses, and if they should by any chance come back it might mean a journey for you and your men to Pretoria."

"And you too, if they did come," said the officer surlily.

"Oh, I don't know," said Anson airily. "I don't believe they would stop a man with an empty wagon going south on a peaceful journey."

"They'd take you and your wagon and span, sir," said the officer sternly.

"Look here, I don't believe the Boers would behave half so badly to me as my own people have done. But aren't you going to search?"

"Yes," said the superintendent sharply. "Your rifle, please."

Anson unslung it from where it hung in the wagon, and the officer took it, examined the stock and the plate at the end of the butt, to be sure that there were no secret places scooped out of the wood, before he opened the breech and withdrew the ball cartridges, holding the empty barrels up to his eyes.

"That's right," cried Anson; "but have a good look round for squalls—I mean Boers. Gun-barrels don't make half bad things to squint through when you haven't got a binocular."

"Bah!" said the superintendent angrily, replacing the cartridges and closing the breech with a snap. "But you have a pair of glasses slung across your shoulder, sir. Have the goodness to pass the case here."

Anson obeyed willingly enough, giving his slung case up for the rifle that was returned.

"There you are," he said, "and when you've done I suppose you'd like to search my clothes and my skin. But I haven't anything there, and I haven't cut myself to slip diamonds inside my hide, and there are none in my ears or boots."

"It's my duty to have you searched all the same," said the superintendent. "Here, two of you go carefully over Mr Anson, while you three hitch up your horses there and make a close search throughout the wagon."

Anson chuckled as the men began promptly to pass their hands over his clothes, turn out his pockets, and haul off his boots, their chief, after satisfying himself that the binocular case had no false bottom or precious stones inside the instrument itself, looking searchingly on.

Satisfied at last that his captive had nothing concealed about him, and frowning heavily at the malicious grin of contempt in which Anson indulged, the superintendent turned to the men examining the oxen so as to satisfy himself that none of the heavy dull brutes had been provided with false horns riveted over their own and of greater length so as to allow room for a few diamonds in each.

Then the dissel boom was examined to see if it had been bored out somewhere and plugged to cover the illicitly-acquired diamonds thrust in.

But no: the great pole of the wagon was perfectly solid; there were no stones stuck in the grease used to anoint the wheels; there was no sign anywhere outside the wagon of boring or plugging; and at last the superintendent, after carefully avoiding Anson's supercilious grin, turned to give a final look round before giving up the search.

Was there anywhere else likely?

Yes; there were the bags of mealies and the water-cask slung beneath the wain, both nearly full, the cask to give forth a sound when it was shaken, and the sacks ready to be emptied out upon a wagon sheet and shed their deep buff-coloured grains, hard, clean, and sweet, in a great heap, which was spread out more and more till they were about two deep, but showed not a sign of a smuggled stone.

"Fill the bags again, my lads," said the police superintendent, "and let's have a look at what's inside the wagon."

"We've searched everything there," said a sergeant gruffly.

"I have not," replied the superintendent sharply. "Let me see."

"But you haven't looked in the water-cask," said Anson mockingly; "turn the water out on to the wagon sheet. It won't stay there, of course; but we can easily get some more. Do you think diamonds would melt in water?"

"Try one and see," cried the superintendent angrily, as he turned away, to stand looking on while every article that could by any possibility have been made to act as a vehicle to hide smuggled diamonds had been examined and replaced.

"We've been sold, eh?" said the sergeant, looking up in his superintendent's eyes at last.

"It seems like it," was the reply. "There's nothing here."

Just then Anson, who had been lighting a fresh cigar, came up to him smilingly.

"Haven't done, have you?" he said.

"Yes: quite," was the gruff reply.

"Oh, I am sorry you haven't had better luck," said Anson, in a mock sympathetic tone. "It must be terribly disappointing, after expecting to make a big capture."

"Very," said the superintendent, looking the speaker searchingly in the eyes.

"Well, I said something to you before, but you took no notice."

"Oh yes, I did."

"But you didn't act on my tip. It seems like playing the sneak, but that's what they did to me, so I don't mind paying them back in their own coin."

"Pay whom?"

"The two who informed on me to save their own skins."

"I do not understand you."

"Oh dear, what fools you clever men are!"

"What do you mean?"

"Bah! And you call yourself a police officer. I'd make a better one out of a Dutch doll."

"Once more, what do you mean?"

"Rub the dust out of your eyes, man."

"There's none there."

"Tchah! Your eyes are full of the dust those two threw there. Can't you see?"

"No."

"Well, I am surprised at you," cried Anson; "and after such a hint too! Can't you see that they've been a-playing upon you—setting you off on a blind lead to keep your attention while they went off with a big parcel of diamonds?"

"What! West and Ingleborough?"

"To be sure! What should they want to volunteer for, and risk capture by the Boers, if they hadn't something to gain by it?"

"Well, they had something to gain—honour and promotion."

"Pish!" cried Anson; "they want something better than that! You've been had, squire. You've been set to catch poor innocent, lamb-like me, and all the while those two foxes have been stealing away with the plunder."

"What!" cried the superintendent.

"I spoke plainly enough," said Anson, smiling pleasantly.

"Yes, you spoke plainly enough," said the superintendent; "but it's nothing to laugh at, sir."

"Why, it's enough to make a cat laugh. Well, I wish you better luck," said Anson, "and if you do catch up to Oliver West I hope you'll slip the handcuffs on him at once and make him part with his smuggled swag."

"You may trust me for that," said the superintendent grimly.

"I shall," said Anson, smiling broadly. "Glad you came after me, so that I could put you on the right track."

"So am I," said the police officer, with a peculiar look.

"And I'm sorry I cut up so rough," continued Anson, smiling, as he apologised; "but you know, it isn't nice to be stopped and overhauled as I have been."

"Of course it isn't," said the officer drily; "but in my profession one can't afford to study people's feelings."

"No, no, of course not. But don't apologise."

"I was not going to," said the superintendent; "I'm sorry, though, to find out that West is such a scamp. Why, Ingleborough must be as bad."

"Or worse," said Anson, grinning.

"Yes, because he's older. Why, I quite trusted that fellow."

"Ah, you're not the first man who has been deceived, sir."

"Of course not; but by the way, Mr Anson, why didn't you say something of this kind in your defence when Ingleborough charged you before the directors?"

"Why didn't I say something about it? Why, because I didn't know. It only came to me too late. But there, you know now; and, as I said before, I wish you luck and a good haul, only unfortunately they've got a good start and you'll have your work cut out. Going? Goodbye then."

"Goodbye?" said the superintendent, using the word as a question.

"Yes, of course. I'm going to chance it. I don't suppose we shall meet any Boers."

"No; I don't think you'll meet any Boers," said the officer, in so meaning a way that Anson grew uneasy.

"Why do you speak like that?" he said sharply.

"Only that it isn't goodbye, Mr Anson."

"Not goodbye? Yes, it is. I'm off to the south at once."

"No, sir; you're going north with me. You area suspected person, Mr Anson. I am not altogether satisfied with my search, nor yet with your very ingenious story."

"Then search again?" cried Anson excitedly.

"Not here, sir. I'll have a careful look over the wagon when we get back to Kimberley."

"You don't mean to say you are going to drag me back to Kimberley?"

"I do, sir, and you ought to be thankful, for you'd never pass through the Boers' lines further south."

"But you have thoroughly searched me and my wagon."

"I have told you that I am not satisfied," said the officer coldly; "and, even if I were, I should take you back with me all the same."

"Why? What for?"

"To face this Mr West and his companion if we capture them and bring them back."

"But what's that to me?"

"Only this: you are the informer, and will have to give evidence against them when they are examined. Now, please, no more words, Mr Anson; you are my prisoner. Quick, boys! Get the team in-spanned and the wagon turned the other way."

"But breakfast," said Anson, with a groan. "I must have something to eat."

"The billy is boiling," said the sergeant to his chief, in a confidential tone, "and the bullocks would be all the better for an hour's feed, sir."

The superintendent looked sharply towards the fire and the prisoner's provisions, and shaded his eyes and gazed for some minutes south.

"You're right," he said. "Send two men off a good mile forward as outposts, and let the oxen feed.—Now, Mr Anson, I'll take breakfast with you if you'll have me for a guest."

"Yes; I can't help myself," said the prisoner bitterly; "and suppose I shan't have a chance given me to make your tea agreeable with something I have in the wagon."

"No; I don't think you will, sir, thanks."

"But I can sit and wish you luck, my friend, and my wish is this—that a commando may swoop down upon you and your gang."

"Thanks once more," said the superintendent grimly. "There, sit down, sir, and I'll preside and send you your breakfast."

This was done, the repast made, and, as soon as two of the constables had finished, they were sent off to relieve their rear-guard, sending them on to have their meal, and with orders to fall back towards the wagon a quarter of an hour after the relief had been made.

All this was duly carried out, the oxen in-spanned, and the wagon began its lumbering course back towards Kimberley, the black driver and voorlooper taking their places in the most unconcerned way, as if it were all in the day's work, while Anson, after eating voraciously, had a fit of the sulks, watching narrowly the movements of the police. After a moment's indecision he climbed upon the box in the front of the wagon and in doing so glanced at his rifle, which hung in its slings close to his head.

"Six of them," he said to himself, as he smiled pleasantly. "I could bring down the chief and one more easily; but that wouldn't scare the rest away. Odds are too heavy, and one don't want to be taken and hanged. They are so particular about a policeman being hurt! Never mind; I daresay my luck will turn—fool as I was to try that dodge on about those two going off with the smuggled loot. I'll wait. Here goes to whistle for the Boers, as the sailors do for wind."

Saying this, he drew out the little mahogany case which held his flute, and coolly took the pieces and fitted them together, before crossing his legs upon the rough seat and beginning to blow, keeping up a series of the most doleful old Scotch and Irish laments, while the oxen plodded on and the police rode by the wagon side, listening and looking in vain for any sign tending to point out the fact that the flautist was a dishonest dealer in the coveted crystals which were so hard to get, but all the same keeping a keen look-out for danger in the shape of advancing Boers.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

IN THE THICK OF IT.

The report of the rifle was magical in its effect upon the Basuto ponies, each rearing up on its hind legs and striking out with its forefeet; but the same punishment was meted out by the riders—namely, a sharp tap between the ears with the barrels of the rifles—and the result was that beyond fidgeting they stood fairly still, while flash, flash, flash, three more shots were fired. The bullets whizzed by with their peculiar noise, sounding quite close, but probably nowhere near the riders—those who fired judging in the darkness quite by sound.

"Let's keep on at a walk," whispered West; but, low as his utterance was, the sound reached an enemy's ears.

"Mind what you're about!" said someone close at hand, evidently mistaking the speaker for a friend; "one of those bullets went pretty close to my ear. Whereabouts are they?"

"Away to the right," whispered Ingleborough, in Dutch.

"Come on then," said the former speaker. "Ck!"

The pony the man rode made a plunge as if spurs had been suddenly dug into its sides, and the dull beat of its hoofs on the dusty soil told of the course its rider was taking.

West was about to speak when the rapid beating of hoofs came from his left, and he had hard work to restrain his own mount from joining a party of at least a dozen of the enemy as they swept by noisily in the darkness.

"What do the fools think they are going to do by galloping about like that?" said Ingleborough gruffly.

"If they had kept still they might have caught us. Hallo! Firing again!"

Three or four shots rang out on the night air, and away in front of the pair the beating of hoofs was heard again.

"Why, the country seems alive with them," whispered West. "Hadn't we better keep on?"

"Yes, we must chance it," was the reply. "No one can see us twenty yards away."

"And we ought to make the most of the darkness."

"Hist!" whispered Ingleborough, and his companion sat fast, listening to the movements of a mounted man who was evidently proceeding cautiously across their front from left to right. Then the dull sound of hoofs ceased—went on again—ceased once more for a time, so long that West felt that their inimical neighbour must have stolen away, leaving the coast quite clear.

He was about to say so to Ingleborough, but fortunately waited a little longer, and then started, for there was the impatient stamp of a horse, followed by a sound that suggested the angry jerking of a rein, for the animal plunged and was checked again.

As far as the listeners could make out, a mounted man was not forty yards away, and the perspiration stood out in great drops upon West's brow as he waited for the discovery which he felt must be made. For a movement on the part of either of the ponies, or a check of the rein to keep them from stretching down their necks to graze, would have been enough. But they remained abnormally still, and at last, to the satisfaction and relief of both, the Boer vedette moved off at a trot, leaving the pair of listeners once more free to breathe.

"That was a narrow escape!" said West, as soon as their late companion was fairly out of hearing.

"Yes. I suppose we ought to have dismounted and crawled up to him and put a bullet through his body," answered Ingleborough.

"Ugh! Don't talk about it!" replied West. "I suppose we shall have plenty of such escapes as this before we have done."

"You're right! But we can move on now, and—Hist! There are some more on the left."

"I don't hear anyone. Yes, I do. Sit fast; there's a strong party coming along."

West was quite right, a body of what might have been a hundred going by them at a walk some eighty or ninety yards away, and at intervals a short sharp order was given in Boer-Dutch which suggested to West commands in connection with his own drill, "Right incline!" or "Left incline!" till the commando seemed to have passed right away out of hearing.

"Now then," said West softly, "let's get on while we have the chance."

The words were hardly above his breath, but in the utter stillness of the night on the veldt they penetrated sufficiently far, and in an instant both the despatch-riders knew what the brief orders they had heard meant, namely that as the commando rode along a trooper was ordered to rein up at about every hundred yards and was left as a vedette.

For no sooner had West spoken than there was a sharp challenge to left and right, running away along a line, and directly after the reports of rifles rang out and bullets whizzed like insects through the dark night air. Many flew around and over the heads of the fugitives; for the moment the discovery was made West and Ingleborough pressed their ponies' sides and went forward at full gallop to pass through the fire in front of them.

It was close work, for guided by the sounds of the ponies' hoofs, the Boers kept on firing, one shot being from close at hand—so close that the flash seemed blinding, the report tremendous. This was followed by a sharp shock, the two companions, as they tore on, cannoning against the vedette, West's pony striking the horse in his front full upon the shoulder and driving the poor beast right in the way of Ingleborough's, with the consequence that there was a second collision which sent the Boer and his horse prostrate, Ingleborough's pony making a bound which cleared the struggling pair, and then racing forward alongside of its stable companion, when they galloped on shoulder to shoulder. They were followed by a scattered fire of bullets, and when these ceased West turned in his saddle and listened, to hear the heavy beat of many hoofs, telling of pursuit; but the despatch-riders were well through the line, and galloped on at full speed for the next half-hour, when they slackened down and gradually drew rein and listened.

"Can't hear a sound!" said West.

"Nor I," replied Ingleborough, after a pause. "So now let's breathe our nags and go steadily, for we may very likely come upon another of these lines of mounted men."

A short consultation was then held respecting the line of route to be followed as likely to be the most clear of the enemy.

"I've been thinking," said Ingleborough, "that our best way will be to strike off west, and after we are over the river to make a good long detour."

West said nothing, but rode on by his companion's side, letting his pony have a loose rein so that the sure-footed little beast could pick its way and avoid stones.

"I think that will be the best plan," said Ingleborough, after a long pause.

Still West was silent.

"What is it?" said his companion impatiently.

"I was thinking," was the reply.

"Well, you might say something," continued Ingleborough, in an ill-used tone. "It would be more lively if you only gave a grunt."

"Humph!"

It was as near an imitation as the utterer could give, and Ingleborough laughed.

"Thanks," he said. "That's a little more cheering. I've been thinking, too, that if we make this detour to the west we shall get into some rougher country, where we can lie up among the rocks of some kopje when it gets broad daylight."

"And not go on during the day?"

"Certainly not; for two reasons: our horses could not keep on without rest, and we should certainly be seen by the Boers who are crowding over the Vaal." West was silent again.

"Hang it all!" cried Ingleborough. "Not so much as a grunt now! Look here, can you propose a better plan?"

"I don't know about better, but I was thinking quite differently from you."

"Let's have your way then."

"Perhaps you had better not. You have had some experience in your rides out on excursions with Mr Norton, and I daresay your plan is a better one than mine."

"I don't know," said Ingleborough shortly. "Let's hear yours."

"But—"

"Let's—hear—yours," cried the other imperatively, and his voice sounded so harsh that West felt annoyed, and he began:

"Well, I thought of doing what you propose at first."

"Naturally: it seems the likeliest way."

"But after turning it over in my mind it seemed to me that the Boers would all be hurrying across the border and scouring our country, looking in all directions as they descended towards Kimberley."

"Yes, that's right enough. But go on; don't hesitate. It's your expedition, and I'm only second."

"So I thought that we should have a far better chance and be less likely to meet with interruption if we kept on the east side of the Vaal till it turned eastward, and then, if we could get across, go on north through the enemy's country."

"Invade the Transvaal with an army consisting of one officer and one man?"

"There!" cried West pettishly. "I felt sure that you would ridicule my plans."

"Then you were all wrong, lad," cried Ingleborough warmly, "for, so far from ridiculing your plans, I think them capital. There's success in them from the very cheek of the idea—I beg your pardon: I ought to say audacity. Why, of course, if we can only keep clear of the wandering commandos—and I think we can if we travel only by night—we shall find that nearly everyone is over the border on the way to the siege of Kimberley, and when we stop at a farm, as we shall be obliged to for provisions, we shall only find women and children."

"But they'll give warning of our having been there on our way to Mafeking."

"No, they will not. How will they know that we are going to Mafeking if we don't tell them? I'm afraid we must make up a tale. Perhaps you'll be best at that. I'm not clever at fibbing."

"I don't see that we need tell the people lies," said West shortly.

"Then we will not," said his companion. "Perhaps we shall not be asked; but if we are I shall say that we are going right away from the fighting because we neither of us want to kill any Boers."

"Humph!" grunted West.

"What, doesn't that suit you? It's true enough. I don't want to kill any Boers, and I'm sure you don't. Why, when you come to think that we shall be telling this to women whose husbands, sons, or brothers have been commandoed, we are sure to be treated as friends."

"We had better act on your plan," said West, "and then we need make up no tales."

"Wait a minute," said Ingleborough. "Pull up."

West obeyed, and their ponies began to nibble the herbage.

"Now listen: can you hear anything?"

West was silent for nearly a minute, passed in straining his ears to catch the slightest sound.

"Nothing," he said at last.

"Nothing," said his companion. "Let's jump down!"

West followed his companion's example, and swung himself out of the saddle.

"Now get between the nags' heads and hold them still. You and they will form three sides of a square: I'm going to be the fourth."

"What for?"

"To light a match."

"Oh, don't stop to smoke now," said West reproachfully. "Let's get on."

"Who's going to smoke, old Jump-at-conclusions? I'm going to carry out our plan."

Scratch! and a match blazed up, revealing Ingleborough's face as he bent down over it to examine something bright held in one hand— something he tried to keep steady till the match burned close to his fingers and was crushed out.

"Horses' heads are now pointing due north," he said. "Keep where you are till I'm mounted. That's right! Now then, up you get! That's right! Now then! Right face—forward!"

"But you're going east."

"Yes," said Ingleborough, with a little laugh, "and I'm going with West or by West all the same. We must keep on till we get to the railway, cross it, and then get over the border as soon as we can."

"What, follow out my plan?"

"Of course! It's ten times better than mine. Look here, my dear boy, you are a deal too modest. Recollect that you are in command, and that my duty is to obey."

"Nonsense!"

"Sense, sir; sound sense. I've got enough in my head to know when a thing's good, and you may depend upon my opposing you if I feel that you are going to act foolishly. Once for all, your idea's capital, lad; so let's get on as fast as we can till daybreak, and then we can lie up in safely in the enemy's country."

In due course the railway was reached, a breeze springing up and sweeping the sky clear so that they had a better chance of avoiding obstacles in the way, and as soon as they were well over the line the ponies were kept at a canter, which was only checked here and there over broken ground. This, however, became more plentiful as the night glided away, but the rough land and low kopjes were the only difficulties that they encountered on the enemy's side of the border, where they passed a farm or two, rousing barking dogs, which kept on baying till the fugitives were out of hearing.

At last the pale streak right in front warned them that daylight was coming on fast, and they searched the country as they cantered on till away more to the north a rugged eminence clearly seen against the sky suggested itself as the sort of spot they required, and they now hurried their ponies on till they came to a rushing, bubbling stream running in the right direction.

"Our guide, Noll," said Ingleborough quietly; "that will lead us right up to the kopje, where we shall find a resting-place, a good spot for hiding, and plenty of water as well."

All proved as Ingleborough had so lightly stated; but before they reached the shelter amongst the piled-up masses of granite and ironstone, with shady trees growing in the cracks and crevices, their glasses showed them quite half-a-dozen farms dotted about the plain. They were in great doubt as to whether they were unseen when they had to dismount and lead their willing steeds into a snug little amphitheatre surrounded by rocks and trees, while the hollow itself was rich with pasturage such as the horses loved best, growing upon both sides of the clear stream whose sources were high up among the rocks.

"You see to hobbling the ponies, Noll," said Ingleborough, "while I get up as high as I can with my glass and give an eye to the farms. If we've been seen someone will soon be after us. We can't rest till we know. But eat your breakfast, and I'll nibble mine while I watch. Don't take off the saddles and bridles."

West did as he was requested, and ate sparingly while he watched the horses browsing for quite an hour, before Ingleborough came down from the highest part of the kopje.

"It's all right," he said. "Let's have off the saddles and bridles now. Have you hobbled them well?"

"Look," said West.

"Capital. I didn't doubt you; but you might have made a mistake, and if we dropped asleep and woke up to find that the ponies were gone it would be fatal to your despatch."

"Yes; but one of us must keep watch while the other sleeps."

"It's of no use to try, my lad. It isn't to be done. If we're going to get into Mafeking in a business-like condition we must have food and rest. Come, the horses will not straggle away from this beautiful moist grass, so let's lie down in this shady cave with its soft sandy bottom and sleep hard till sunset. Then we must be up and away again."

"But anxiety won't let me sleep," said West. "I'll sit down and watch till you wake, and then I'll have a short sleep while you take my place."

"Very well," said Ingleborough, smiling.

"What are you laughing at?" said West, frowning.

"I was only thinking that you had a very hard day yesterday and that you have had an arduous time riding through the night."

"Yes, of course."

"Well, nature is nature! Try and keep awake if you can! I'm going to lie flat on my back and sleep. You'll follow my example in less than an hour."

"I—will—not!" said West emphatically.

But he did, as he sat back resting his shoulders against the rock and gazing out from the mouth of the cave where they had made themselves comfortable at the beautiful sunlit veldt, till it all grew dark as if a veil had been drawn over his eyes.

It was only the lids which had closed, and then, perfectly unconscious, he sank over sidewise till he lay prone on the soft sand, sleeping heavily, till a hand was laid upon his shoulder and he started into wakefulness, to see that the sun had set, that the shadows were gathering over the veldt, and then that Ingleborough was smiling in his face.

"Rested, old man?" he said. "That's right. The nags have had a splendid feed, and they are ready for their night's work. I haven't seen a soul stirring. Come on! Let's have a good drink of water and a feed, and by that time we ought to be ready to start."

"We ought to cross the Vaal before morning," said West.

"I doubt it," was the reply, "for it will be rather a job, as we shall find the enemy about there. If we get across to-morrow night we shall have done well."

"But we shall never get to Mafeking like this."

"It's going to be a harder task than you thought for when you volunteered so lightly, my dear boy; but we've undertaken to do it, and do it we will. It isn't a work of hours nor days. It may take us weeks. Come along! I'm hungry, and so are you."

"But tell me," said West, "how long have you been awake?"

"Not above a quarter of an hour. We must have sleep and rest as well as food. When we've had the last we shall be ready for anything through the night."

And so it proved as they rode on properly refreshed, meeting with no adventure, but being startled by the barking roars of lions twice during the night, which came to an end as they reached a very similar kopje offering just such accommodation as they had met with on the previous morning.

"Hah!" said Ingleborough. "Just enough prog left for a rough breakfast. To-morrow we shall have to begin travelling by day, so as to pay a visit to some farm, for we can't do as the nags do, eat grass when they can get it and nibble green shoots when they can't. Now then, my dear Noll, the orders for to-day are: sleep beneath this projecting shelf."

"But I say," said West, a minute or so later, "is your rifle charged? You were wiping the barrels as we rode along."

There was no reply, for Ingleborough was fast asleep, and West soon followed his example.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

AFTER A LAPSE.

Oliver West was sleeping soundly that night from sheer fatigue; but all the same his slumber was not pleasant, for though his body was resting his brain was hard at work.

Before an hour had passed he was conscious of being cold, and in a dreamy way he felt that he ought to do what under the circumstances was impossible: that is to say, put more clothes over him, or, failing them, as he had no more, roll himself over and over in the blanket that he had brought strapped to his saddle-bow and only thrown over him when he lay down to sleep. But his body was so steeped in sleep that he did not stir, and suffered from the freezing air of the night—so tremendous a change from the torrid heat of mid-day out on the veldt.

Later on, about midnight, the impression came upon him that he could hear a lion far away, seeming to make the earth quiver beneath him by giving forth in the fierce beast's strangely ventriloquial way its awe-inspiring roar, so puzzling to the listener as to whether it is far off or near. And even in his dreamy state West found himself doubting that it could be a lion's roar that he heard so near to where civilisation had driven off most of the savage beasts of the plain. But the roar came again, nearer, and in his dreams he felt sure that he was right, and he recalled, still sleeping, the fact that now and then the king of beasts followed one or other of the straggling herds of antelopes quite close to the Boers' farms. Then the curious barking roar ceased, and with it consciousness for some time.

All at once he found himself wide awake, lying upon his back, and gazing straight up through the transparent darkness at the stars. He lay for some moments wondering what had awakened him, perfectly still, and listening intently for steps or the trampling of horses, feeling sure that the Boers were close at hand.

Instinctively his hand was reached out to grasp the rifle, which he had laid by his side and covered from the dew or hoar frost, whichever might come, by throwing over it part of his blanket.

As he touched it the cold perspiration began to start from every pore, for there was a whiff of hot breath upon his face, and he could dimly see that some large animal was stretching down its muzzle towards him, and for a few brief moments he lay as if paralysed, expecting to feel himself seized and dragged away, for now came back with keen clearness the recollection of having heard the distant roaring of a lion.

He had hardly grasped this when once more, from somewhere near, the lion's terrifying cry arose, evidently, as he thought in a flash, one of the companions of the huge beast at his side. In an instant now he had grasped the truth, for as the distant lion roared there came from his right the peculiar stumbling movement of one of the hobbled horses striving to get closer to where there would be human companionship, if not protection. "Poor beast!" thought West, as his fascinated eyes stared at the dim shape above him, so close that it shut out from him the light of the stars.

Then the half-paralysed listener saw clearly, for the beast raised its head and uttered a low whinnying cry, which was answered from the direction where the other hobbled pony was moving.

"Woho, my boy!" whispered West, with the blood now tingling through his veins, and as the pony whinnied softly again West raised himself up with his rifle in his right hand and stretched out his left for it to come in contact with the soft warm muzzle of his pony, which pressed against it, the poor brute uttering a low sigh. Quite a minute then passed, the two ponies remaining motionless, and West listening with every nerve on the strain, knowing as he did that a lion must be in very close proximity, and fully expecting every moment that there might be a tremendous bound and the savage brute would alight either upon him or upon one of the poor shivering beasts.

Then, from evidently pretty close at hand, there was a low muttering growl, the barrel of West's rifle fell into his left hand as he held the weapon pistol-wise and fired low down in the direction of the sounds.

At the flash and in company with the report there was a yelping snarl and a couple of angry roars in quick succession.

West fired again as nearly as he could judge where the beast would be, and the next moment Ingleborough was kneeling by his side.

"What is it—lions?" he panted.

"Yes," whispered West, whose fingers were busy re-loading, and he listened for the next sound, but only to hear a deep sighing breath on either side, telling that the horses had been too much terrified to start away, or else felt that they would be safer with their masters, and that to try to gallop off meant the springing of a savage enemy upon their backs.

The silence continued for nearly a minute, and then there was a vicious snarling, apparently some fifty yards away, while without a moment's hesitation Ingleborough raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired as nearly as he could judge at the spot from whence the noise came. He fired twice, the shots being so close together as almost to be like one for a while. Then after a perceptible interval they were echoed from the walls of a distant kopje, and again from another, before they died away.

"That has startled the lions," said Ingleborough; "but I'm afraid it will startle the Boers and bring them to see what's the matter."

"Yes, the lions are gone," said West. "Hark at that! Who says horses have no sense?"

For the crop, crop, crop of the browsing animals had begun again from close at hand, and the comrades stood listening for some little time while the otherwise unbroken stillness once more reigned.

"What's to be done?" said West. "Shall we make a start at once, or wait for daylight?"

"I was thinking," replied Ingleborough. "If we start now we have the advantage of the darkness to hide us, but the disadvantage too, for we may go blundering right into the midst of some commando. I don't think the firing could do us any harm, after all, for the enemy would not be able to tell where the sounds came from. I think we had better stay where we are and wait for morning."

"I think so too," said West, with a sigh of relief; "but one of us ought to watch in case the lions come back."

"They will not come back!" said Ingleborough decisively. "From what I know of their habits they'll have been too much scared to risk their lives again. You hit one of them; there's no doubt about that."

"You think there was more than one?"

"I should say it was a family party of an old lioness and two or three half-grown cubs."

"Then we may lie down and sleep again?"

"Yes; we must trust to our luck, Noll; there's a good deal of chance in these affairs."

West hesitated for a few minutes, and then followed his companion's example, lying awake for some time thinking of what a strange change this was from his quiet life in the offices of the company; and then, as he began to ponder over what might be to come, the subject grew too difficult for him and he fell fast asleep.

But he was the first to awaken in the grey dawn, to find that the horses were close at hand, browsing away contentedly enough, and ready to neigh softly and submit to his caress when he walked up to them; while, as soon as he had satisfied himself that they had not suffered in any way, he walked in the direction in which he had fired during the night, to find footprints in several directions, and in one place the dust among some stones torn up and scattered, as if one of the brutes had fallen on its side and scratched up the earth. Plainer still in the way of proof of what had happened, there were spots and smudges of blood, giving thorough evidence that one of the lions had been wounded by the chance shot, and had fallen, and struggled fiercely to regain its feet.

He had just arrived at this conclusion when Ingleborough found him.

"Hallo!" cried his companion; "that was a good blind shot, Noll. Well done, lad! A full-grown lion too! Look at its pads. It must have had a nasty flesh-wound to have bled like this."

"Do you think it'll be lying anywhere near, half-dead, or quite?"

"No! A cat has nine lives, they say; and really this kind of beast is very, hard to kill. Look, there are the pugs, along with those of three more, all half-grown, going right away yonder into the open veldt. We might hunt 'em down, but we don't want to, eh?"

"Absurd! We want to get on at once. Can you see any pug, as you call it, of Boers?"

"No. I've had a good look round, and as soon as we've had a mouthful we'll be off. I say, it's wonderful, isn't it, how one can sleep out here on the veldt?"

"Surrounded by dangers!" replied West. Then laconically: "Yes."

Their scanty meal was soon eaten and washed down with a draught of pure water, after which they both climbed to the top of the highest part of the kopje to take a good survey of the surrounding plain.

"There's nothing in sight," said Ingleborough quietly; "so we'll hurry on at once while our shoes are good."

The ponies looked as fresh as ever when they were saddled and ready to start, and after an examination of the compass Ingleborough pointed out that they ought to keep along north-east to strike the Vaal somewhere that evening, and then go along its southern bank till a ford was reached, after which their journey would be north by west.

"But we must be on the look-out for some lonely farm to-day," said West. "We ought to well fill our haversacks before we start again."

"Never fear; we shall find plenty of food for sale so long as we have money to show the Boer ladies. Ready?"

"Yes," replied West, and together they sprang into their saddles and rode down the slope, their horses carefully picking their way among the stones, till the open veldt was reached. They then struck off at a quiet canter towards a rocky ridge so as to put that between them and the kopje where they had slept, in case by any possibility their shots had been heard and a party of the enemy should ride up to it to make a search and in the course of it see them in the distance riding away.

"And that would mean pursuit, a race, and the fastest horses to win," said West.

"As they generally do when there is fair play," replied Ingleborough quietly. "Keep a sharp look-out forward, and I'll keep on casting an eye back at the kopje."

The ridge was only about a couple of miles distant from their previous night's resting-place, proving to be fairly high, but with a gradual slope: while just as they reached the spot where the ascent began Ingleborough turned in his saddle from a long look-out backwards.

"This is like wringing one's own neck," he cried. "Now then, let's canter up this bit, and as soon as we have topped it we need not be so cautious. Ready?"

"Yes," cried West.

"Then off! Steady! No galloping; a gentle canter."

It was fortunate for the pair that they did not breathe their horses, but rode up the gentle slope at a regular lady's canter, to find the ridge pleasantly fringed with a patch of open woodland, through which their steeds easily picked their way, and on to the farther slope, which was more dotted with forest growth; but there was nothing to hinder their rate of speed—in fact, the horses began to increase the pace as a broad grassy stretch opened before them.

The moment they passed out of the woodland on to the open space West uttered a word of warning and pressed his pony's side, for the first glance showed him that they had come right upon a Boer laager which was in the course of being broken up. Oxen were being in-spanned, men were tightening the girths of their ponies, and preparations were in progress everywhere for an advance in some direction.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

MAN-HUNTING.

Whatsoever this may have been, the sudden appearance of the two fresh horsemen decided the course of some thirty or forty, who stood about for a few moments staring wonderingly at the pair flying down the descent, before mounting in some cases, in others seizing their rifles and flinging themselves upon the ground to load rapidly and take aim.

"Mind how you go, Noll!" shouted Ingleborough. "A fall means being taken prisoner now!"

He had hardly shouted the words before the bullets came buzzing about their ears like bees after disturbers on a hot swarming day in old England.

"Take care!" cried West excitedly. "It will be a long chase; so don't press your nag too hard. Lie down on your horse's neck; the bullets are coming more and more, and we shan't be safe for another mile."

"Bah! It's all nonsense about their marksmanship," cried Ingleborough, who seemed to be suffering from a peculiar kind of elation in which there was no feeling of fear. "Let them shoot! We're end on to them, and have a clear course! They're trained to shoot springbok, I suppose, when they get a chance; but they haven't had much experience of galloping men. Fire away, you cowardly brutes!" he roared, as if he fancied that the enemy could hear him. "I don't believe you could hit a runaway railway truck or a cantering furniture-van, let alone a horse with a man on its back."

"Ah!" cried West, at that moment, as he turned from looking back and snatched off his broad-brimmed hat.

"Noll, boy, don't say you're hit!" cried Ingleborough passionately.

"No," said West, drawing his breath with a peculiar sound. "I've escaped; but I thought I'd got it! I felt as if my hat was being snatched off, and something touched my ear."

"Turn your head this way!" said Ingleborough huskily.

"Wait a moment!" replied West, who had passed his hat into his rein hand, to afterwards clap his right to his head and draw it away.

"First blood to them!" he said, with a mocking laugh.

"Here, we must ease up and let me bandage it," said Ingleborough.

"No, thanks: that's a likely tale with the bullets flying like this! Keep on, man; we've got a fair start! Let's get past those trees forward yonder; they'll shelter us a bit!"

"But your wound, my lad?"

"They've only nicked the edge of my ear. It will stop bleeding of itself. There's nothing to mind!"

Ingleborough watched him eagerly as he spoke, and seeing for himself that there was only a feeble trickle of blood from the cut ear, he pressed on in the required direction.

"Give me warning," he cried, "if you feel faint, and we'll pull up, dismount, and cover ourselves with our horses while we try what practice we can make if they come on."

"If they come on!" said West bitterly. "Look for yourself; they're already coming!"

Ingleborough turned his head sharply, to see that a line of galloping men had just been launched from the Boer laager to the right and left, and were streaming in single file down the slope, leaving ample room between them for their dismounted companions to keep up a steady fire upon the fugitives.

"That's their game, is it?" said Ingleborough, between his teeth. "Very well, then, we must make a race of it and see what our picked ponies can do."

"That's right!" cried West. "Let's open out a little!"

"Right, and give them less to aim at! The bullets are flying wildly now. Ten yards apart will do."

They separated to about this distance, and at a word from West each nipped his pony's flanks with his knees and rose a little in the stirrups, with the result that the wiry little animals stretched out greyhound fashion and flew over the veldt as if thoroughly enjoying the gallop.

"Steady! steady!" shouted West, at the end of ten minutes. "We're leaving the brutes well behind, and the bullets are getting scarce. Don't let's worry the brave little nags! With a start like this we can leave the Boers well behind."

Ingleborough nodded after a glance backward and followed his companion's example, drawing rein so that their steeds settled down into a hand-gallop, still leaving their pursuers farther behind. The ground was now perfectly level, stretching for three or four miles without an obstacle, and then the horizon line was broken by one of the many kopjes of the country, one which lay right in their line of flight.

"What about that?" said West. "Shall we make for it and get into shelter ready for using our rifles?"

"I don't like it!" replied Ingleborough. "There might be another party there, and then it would be like galloping into another hornets' nest."

"I don't like it either," said West; "but we must think of our horses, and by the time we get there half of this pursuing lot will have tailed off, while I don't believe the rest will come on if we shoot pretty true from behind some rock."

"That's right!" said Ingleborough. "We mustn't let them keep us on the run, for the horses' sake."

"Look out!" said West, in warning tones.

"What is it?"

"They're pulling up and dismounting," replied West. "Here come the bullets again."

For as he spoke the buzzing, whizzing notes of danger overhead, which had for some minutes ceased, began to utter their warnings again, but in a very irregular way, which brought forth the remark from Ingleborough that their enemies' hands were unsteady from their sharp ride.

"The more need then for us to get into a sheltered place where we can rest a few minutes before they can come up," said West. "Let's have another sharp gallop and get well among the rocks: it will be riding out of range and getting more in advance before they mount again."

"Right, general!" cried Ingleborough banteringly; and once more they tore over the veldt, pursued only by the bullets, for the following Boers had dismounted to a man.

"Keep a little wider," said West, laughing outright at his companion's word "general."

"Don't let's give them a chance by riding so close together!"

"Right! Fine manoeuvre!" replied Ingleborough; and they went on towards the kopje at full speed, both feeling a wild kind of exhilaration as the wind rushed by their cheeks, and the plucky little horses stretched out more and more as if enjoying the race as much as their riders.

Strange terms "exhilaration" and "enjoying," but none the less true. For there was no feeling of dread, even though the bullets kept on whizzing by them to right, to left, in front, far behind; now high overhead, and more often striking up the dust and ricochetting into space, to fall neither knew where. Every leaden messenger, it it reached its mark, meant a wound; many would have resulted in death had they struck the fugitives. But the excitement made the rush one wild gratification, combined with a kind of certainty that they would escape scot-free; and they laughed aloud, shouting words of encouragement to their ponies and cries of defiance and derision at the unsuccessful riflemen.

"Why, we could do better ourselves, Noll!" cried Ingleborough. "So these are your puffed-up Boers whom writers have put in their books and praised so effusively! My word, what a lot of gammon has been written about rifle-shooting! I believe that Cooper's Deerslayer with his old-fashioned rifle was a duffer after all, and the wonderful shots of the trappers all bluff."

"Perhaps so!" shouted West, rather breathlessly; "but these fellows can shoot!"

"Not a bit!"

"Well, my ear has stopped bleeding; but it smarts as if someone was trying to saw into the edge."

"Never mind; it's only gristle!" said Ingleborough.

"I don't mind, but if the Boer who fired that bullet had only held his rifle a hair's breadth more to the left the scrap of lead would have gone into my skull."

"Of course; but then he did not hold his rifle a hair's breadth more to the left. By jingo!"

"What's the matter?"

"Don't quite know yet. It feels quite numb and free from pain. I don't think I'm hit. I half fancy the poor pony has it, for he gave a tremendous start. All right; keep on! The bullet struck my rolled-up blanket, and it has gone into the saddle. I can feel the little hole."

"What a narrow escape!" cried West anxiously. "Come, you must own that they can shoot straight! If that bullet had gone a trifle higher it would have gone through your loins."

"To be sure! and a little higher still, through between my shoulders; a trifle more, through the back of my head; and again a trifle more, and it would have gone above me. As it is, there's a hole in my saddle, and I'm all right."

"Thank Heaven!" cried West.

"I did," said Ingleborough, "but in a quiet way! Yes, lad, they can shoot; but it's a hard mark to hit—a galloping man end on. They'd be better if we were going at right angles to the shot!"

"Now then, another five minutes, and we shall be beyond the range of their rifles."

"And in another you had better give the word to slacken speed, for the ground will be getting rough. Why not give it now? They've ceased firing."

"Ease down then to a gentle canter," cried West, in reply, and their panting steeds were checked so that for the last mile of their retreat they progressed at an easy ambling pace which enabled the horses to recover their wind, while the precipitous sides of the eminence in front grew clearer to the eye and gave ample proof of being able to furnish nooks which would afford them and their horses security, while enabling the friends a good opportunity for returning the compliment to the Boers as far as bullets were concerned.

West said something to this effect after taking his glass from where it was slung and looking back, to see that the enemy was remounting and continuing the pursuit.

"Not they!" replied Ingleborough. "They're too fond of whole skins to run risks! They'll lie down in holes and corners to fire at us, but they will not attack us if we are well in cover, and they find we can hold our rifles straight."

"Then we must!" said West quietly. "Only we shall want a bit of rest first, for my nerves are all of a quiver, and the blood feels as if it was jumping in my veins."

"Come along then! We'll soon find a place where we can lie down behind the stones! The sooner the better too, for I'm beginning to feel rather murderous."

"Murderous!" cried West.

"Yes: don't you? I'm not going to be shot at for nothing! Look here, Nolly, my lad, life's very sweet, and I value mine. I'm peaceably disposed enough, but these brutes have invaded our country, and you've had proof that they are trying their level best to make us food for the crows. Under the circumstances don't you think it's time for the lambs—meaning us—to turn upon the butchers—meaning the Boers—and let them feed the crows instead?"

"Don't talk in poetical metaphors, Ingle," said West, with a grim smile. "If it comes to the point, we'll make our rifles speak in a way that will keep the enemy from stopping to hear the end of what they have to say."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Ingleborough; "who's talking metaphorically now?"

"I've done," said West. "Walk!" he cried loudly, and they drew rein, to let the ponies pick their way up the commencement of a slope dotted with small stones, while but a short distance farther on the front of the castle-like kopje was gashed with little gorges and ravines, offering plenty of places where horses and men might hide.

"Rather awkward if we were to find that there were some more of the enemy here!" said West, as the nature of the ground forced him to follow his companion, instead of their riding abreast.

He had hardly spoken when it was as if a trumpet had rung out a challenge from one of the little gorges in front, and West answered by shouting: "Right-about face!" and leading the way back. It was no trumpet, but the loud neigh of a Boer horse, while shot after shot was fired as they galloped away, fortunately being able to shelter themselves from the fire by striking off to the right as soon as they were clear of the stones, the higher ones proving their salvation, being in the way of the enemy's aim.

"Out of the frying-pan into the fire!" cried Ingleborough; "and the fire's going to be hotter than the pan."

"Yes," cried West. "Give them their head! Gallop right for the river now."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A DESPATCH-RIDER'S WORK.

"Hurrah!" cried West, as soon as they were once more well out in the open, their horses breathed, and ready to answer to any demand made upon them by their riders. "Keep abreast, and open out more. Faster! faster! We have only a short start this time."

"But we'll make the best of it," cried Ingleborough, between his teeth. "Bend down well! The firing has begun!"

"It is speaking for itself," said West grimly, as the buzzing whirr of the bullets began again, while faintly heard there came, half smothered by the thudding of their own horses' hoofs, the clattering of Boer mounts being led out over the stones of the ravine in which they had been hid.

"See any more of the old party?" cried West, as they rode well out now on to the level.

"No; we've turned off so much that they are quite in our rear."

"Then the way's clear for the river?"

"If we can reach it, lad," said Ingleborough; "and if we do it may be in flood, or impassable where we hit it."

"Or a hundred other things," cried West angrily, as they tore along at full gallop now, with the bullets flying round them.

"Don't begin to prophesy evil! I say we're going to leave the Boers far behind and escape."

"I can't look at our chance in the same flowery light as you do, my boy," replied Ingleborough. "My breakfast wasn't good enough to inspire me with so much hope, and I should advise you to open your haversack."

"Nonsense! I could not eat now!"

"But you must be ready to if you don't begin, my lad. My advice is that you get ready to eat those sandwiches, for you mustn't let the good verbal meat inside get into the enemy's hands."

Ingleborough had hardly spoken before his horse suddenly checked, throwing him forward upon its neck and nearly sending him off. But he clung to it desperately, while the poor beast's next act was to rear up, pawing hard at the air. In spite of the difficulty, Ingleborough shuffled himself back into the saddle, speaking encouraging words to the shivering animal, which kept on pawing at the air for a few moments and just gave its rider time to throw himself off sidewise before it went right over backwards, struck out with all four legs in the air, and then subsided—motionless.

West drew rein instantly as he tore by, and cantered back, reckless of the whistling bullets which were flying around.

"Beg their pardon!" cried Ingleborough, struggling to his feet after a heavy fall. "I retract my words."

"Hurt?" cried West excitedly.

"Rather! Ground is pretty hard!"

"Here," cried West, leaping off; "jump into my saddle, and I'll hold on by the mane and run."

"Nonsense! Absurd! Don't be a fool!" cried Ingleborough angrily. "The game's up for me! Jump up and gallop again! Don't let the brutes take you too."

"Likely!" said West, taking out his handkerchief and beginning to fold it bandage fashion. "Your head's bleeding. Let me tie this round."