"Let it bleed!" cried Ingleborough angrily, and picking up his soft felt hat, which had fallen in the dust, he stuck it on tightly. "That's bandaged!" he said. "Now then, be off before it's too late."

"Of course; that's just what you would have done!" said West quietly.

"Never mind what I would have done," cried Ingleborough angrily. "Ride for your life!"

"Do you take me for a Dutchman?" said West coolly.

"Oh, you fool—you fool!" cried Ingleborough, stamping his foot angrily. "You'll be too late! No, they're dismounting. Now then, up with you and make a dash."

West gave a glance to right and left, to see that some twenty of the enemy had leaped from their horses and were advancing, while twice as many more, who covered them with their rifles, came slowly on, shouting to him the Dutch for "Hands up!"

The position was perilous, though the chances were even still about being taken or riding clear if he went at full gallop; but West did not stir.

"No, thankye, old fellow," he said. "It would be such dull work riding alone. What do you say to taking cover amongst the bushes?"

"Bah! Cover for the front, and none for flank or rear!"

"We could squat down back to back," said West coolly, "and shoot a few of them first. I want to fight the brutes with their own weapons."

"Once more, will you make a bolt of it?" cried Ingleborough faintly.

"No—I—will—not!" said West slowly and distinctly, and then, making a dash, he caught his comrade round the waist, letting him sink gently down upon the sand and stones, for his legs had given way and his face turned ghastly.

"Thanks, old man," said Ingleborough, with a feeble smile and his eyes looking his gratitude.

He lay still now, with his countenance seeming to grow fixed and hard; but West opened his water-flask and poured a few drops between the poor fellow's lips, when he began to revive at once, and lay perfectly still while his comrade removed his hat and proceeded to bind the ready-folded handkerchief tightly about the bleeding wound, caused by sharp contact with a stone when he fell.

"West," groaned Ingleborough, recovering now a little, "once more, lad, think, think; never mind me! Mount; never mind the firing; ride for your life!"

"Once more, old fellow," said West, through his teeth, "I won't leave you in the lurch!"

"But the despatches, lad. I am only one, and they are to save a thousand."

"Ah!" cried West, springing to his feet as if the object of his journey had been driven out of his head by the excitement of the moment, and he took a step towards his horse, just as, to his intense surprise, Ingleborough's mount suddenly threw up its muzzle, made a plunge, and found its feet, shook itself violently, and whinnied, as if it had just recovered from being stunned.

"Here, make one effort," cried West, seizing the steed's bridle and leading it to where its rider lay.

"Look—your pony's all right again! Can you mount?"

"No," said Ingleborough faintly, as he made an effort to struggle to his knees, but only fell back with a groan. "Can't! Feel as if my neck's broken and my shoulder numbed. Now will you make a dash while you can?"

West hesitated, and duty mastered friendship and humane feeling for his companion. He was but one, and the despatch might deal with the lives of a thousand men in peril of their lives.

"Yes, I must go!" he groaned, making for his horse; but he was too late.

For though the Boers, apparently from a feeling that they were quite sure of their prey, had advanced slowly and cautiously, each man with his rifle presented and finger on trigger, their movements showed plenty of cunning. They had opened out so as to get round the horses, watching the young man's actions all the time, and when he at last made for his mount they were close up, and rifle-barrels bristled around, every muzzle threatening and grim.

"Throw up your hands!" came in chorus from a score of throats, and directly after the same order was given in fair English by two of the ragged, unkempt, big-bearded enemy.

West looked fiercely round like a hunted animal brought to bay by the hounds, waiting to seize the first one that sprang, and ground his teeth with rage; but he paid no heed to the men's words.

"Throw up your hands!" roared one of the men.

"Throw up your own!" said West defiantly, and then to his bitter annoyance he started on one side, for there was a flash, simultaneously a whizz close to his face, and instantly the sharp report of a rifle.

Recovering from the sudden shock to his nerves caused by his previous unbelief that the enemy would be so cowardly as to fire upon a perfectly helpless prisoner, West swung himself round to face the man who had fired at him from such close quarters that the flash of the powder had scorched his cheek.

The Boer was busily thrusting a fresh cartridge into the breech of his piece, and as he met the young man's eyes he burst out into a coarse and brutal laugh.

"Throw up your hands, then, you cursed rooinek!" he cried, "or I'll blow out your brains!"

"Not if I die for it!" cried West. "You cowardly cur!" And turning as the Boers closed him in, he continued, with bitter contempt, and speaking in their own tongue: "I suppose you are a specimen of the brave peasant farmers making a struggle for their liberty!"

"You keep a civil tongue in your head, young man," growled out one of the party in English, "unless you want to feed the crows!"

"You keep your cowardly gang in order first before you dictate to me!" cried West, turning upon the speaker sharply. "Do you call it manly to fire at close quarters upon a party of two?"

"No!" said the man shortly, as he turned round and said a few angry words in the Boer jargon—words which were received by some with angry growls, while the major portion remained silent and sullen.

"You're not our cornet! Mind your own business, before you're hurt!" cried the man who had fired, taking a few steps towards the spot where West stood, and, seizing him savagely by the throat, he tried to force him to his knees.

But he tried only with one hand—his left—his right being engaged by his rifle, and to his utter astonishment the prisoner retorted by kicking his legs from under him and flinging him upon his back.

A yell of anger arose from some, and of delight from others, all looking on while the discomfited Boer sprang up with a cry of rage, cocked his rifle, and, taking quick aim, would have fired point-blank at the prisoner had not his act been anticipated by the Boer who had before spoken. Quick as thought he sprang upon his companion, striking the presented rifle upwards with a blow from his own, and then grasping the infuriated man by the collar.

"None of that!" he cried fiercely in Dutch. "Cornet or no cornet, I'm not going to stand by and see a cowardly murder done! We've got to fight, brother burghers, but we'll fight like soldiers and men. Our name's been stained enough by what has been done already."

"Here, you'd better go and fight for the rooineks," cried the discomfited Boer fiercely.

"I'm going to fight for my home and country, brothers," cried West's defender, "the same as you are: not help to murder a helpless boy who has behaved like a brave man."

The portion of the force who had seemed disposed to side against the speaker were disarmed by his words, and there was a general cheer at this, while the cause of the trouble growled out: "You're a traitor to your country, and the commandant shall hear of this."

"No, no, no, no!" came in chorus. "Serves you right."

West made no resistance now, as his defender signed to him to give up his rifle, which, plus the bandolier, was handed over with a sigh, Ingleborough's having already been taken away.

The next thing done was to search the prisoners' pockets—watch, purse, and pocket-book being taken away, but the inner belts containing the greater part of their money were entirely overlooked, while West stood breathing hard, his face wrinkled up and an agonising pain contracting his heart, for the Boer who had defended him unbuttoned the flap of his haversack, thrust in his hand, and brought out a couple of cake loaves, and then, one after the other, two carefully wrapped-up sandwiches, standing for a few moments with them in his hand, hesitating, while Ingleborough, who had recovered his senses, darted a meaning look at his suffering companion.

"It's all over with our expedition!" he said to himself. "Why didn't poor Noll eat his sandwiches?"

The moments were as agonising to him as to West, who could only stand in silence; but, having become somewhat versed in the tricks of those who fought the law through his friendship with Norton, an idea crossed his mind, and turning in a faint appealing way to the Boer who seemed to be holding in suspense the scales of success and failure, he said: "Don't take our bit of provisions away! We're prisoners; isn't that enough?"

The Boer fixed him with his eyes, noted his pallid face and the blood trickling down from the cut caused by his fall, and then, as if satisfied and moved by a feeling akin to compassion, he nodded his head, thrust the cake and the sandwich-like papers back into West's haversack, and let it swing again under the young man's arm.

"Lucky for them we're not hungry!" he said, in his own tongue, "or we shouldn't have left them much."

"Why don't you make them eat it?" cried the man who had fired. "For aught we know, it may be poisoned."

"Bah!" cried their friend, who had done the pair so good a turn; "let them be!"

A couple of the Boers then approached with reins, but, in spite of the opposition that had taken place, the man who had taken West's part again interfered, just as they proceeded to raise Ingleborough to bind his hands behind his back.

"There is no need!" said the man sharply. "Can't you see that he is too weak to stand? Help him upon his horse, and one go on either side to keep him in the saddle."

Then turning to West, he continued: "Mount; but you will be shot down directly if you attempt to escape."

"I am not going to leave my friend," said West coldly. "I could have galloped away had I wanted to. Let me walk by his side to help him."

The man looked at the speaker searchingly and then nodded, West taking the place of one of the Boers, who placed himself just behind him with rifle ready. Then the little party moved off towards the kopje where the prisoners had been surprised.

"How are you?" asked West, as soon as they were in motion.

"I feel as if I were somewhere else!" was the half-laughing, half-bitter reply. "All use seems to have been completely knocked out of me, and the hills and kopjes go sailing round and round."

"That will soon pass off," said West, and then after a short pause: "Well, we're prisoners after all. It does seem hard now we have got so far! I wonder where they'll send us?"

"It does not much matter!" said Ingleborough. "Anywhere will do, if I can lie down and rest till this dreadful swimming and confusion passes off. As soon as it does we'll escape—to eat the sandwiches," he added meaningly.

"If we can," said West; "but don't talk about them again! Oh, Ingle, I wish I had your sharp wits."

"Pooh! Where there's a will there's a way," said Ingleborough faintly. "You might have escaped, but as you insisted upon being taken to share my lot I was obliged to do something, and now I must do nothing but think of how to get away."

The effort of talking was evidently too much for the poor fellow, and West confined himself to keeping him upright in the saddle, from which he would certainly have fallen but for his comrade's willing arm.

West was so fully occupied by his task, the two Boers offering not the slightest aid, that he paid no heed to the fact that their captors led them right round to the far side of the kopje, and then through a narrow gap of the rocks into a natural amphitheatre, wherein there was ample room for the formation of a great laager, the wagons being arranged in an irregular ellipse, thoroughly hidden from the veldt outside, while the rocks of the kopje roughly formed a rampart of vast strength, and apparently quite impregnable.

West took in all he could as he and his companion in misfortune were led through and within the barricade of wagons to where the horses and cattle were securely tethered, while a burst of cheering saluted the returning party as soon as it was seen that they had prisoners and a couple of likely-looking mounts. It was a surprise, for no one journeying across the veldt could for a moment have supposed that so secure a natural stronghold existed behind the rocky barriers.

The next minute the prisoners saw their sturdy ponies tied up to the tail of one of the great wagons, so near that West began to wonder whether when darkness came it would be possible to creep to their side, cut them free, mount, and make a old dash for liberty.

But a glance at Ingleborough showed him that this would be impossible, for the poor fellow had sunk over sidewise as soon as he had been lifted out of the saddle, and lay perfectly inert and with his eyes half-closed. West knelt down by him and, taking his slung water-bottle, he raised his injured companion's head a little and began to trickle, a few drops at a time, a little water between the sufferer's lips.

He was occupied in this way when he noted that a large group of the Boers had approached, one of whom, a short sturdy-looking individual, with swarthy skin and thick black beard plentifully sprinkled with grey, suddenly said, in good English: "What is the matter with him—shot?"

"No," replied West. "His horse was struck, and reared up, and my friend was thrown heavily upon his head."

"Oh, is that all?" said the Boer nonchalantly. "Let him sleep it off! But listen, you: we shoot prisoners who try to escape."

"I shall not try to escape and leave him," said West coldly.

The Boer commandant, for such he proved to be, gave him a keen look and then turned away to speak to one of the men, the result of the orders he gave being that Ingleborough was carried to one of the wagons forming the laager, and West ordered to follow and wait upon his friend, who, after his injury had been carefully bathed and bandaged, sank into a swoon-like sleep, leaving West to sit thinking of their position and pondering upon the fact that the two Basuto ponies were tethered in sight of where he sat, and that he still had the treasured-up despatches safe.

His great trouble now seemed to be whether he should conceal the papers about his person or leave them in the haversack carelessly hung from the side of the wagon-tilt, lest he should be searched again and with a more serious result than the loss of watch and purse.

Night came at last, with the difficulty still unsolved, and a yet more serious one to keep him awake.

It was this: Ought he to wait till well on in the night, and then creep out by the sentry on duty outside, get to one of the ponies, and try and steal away?

And the time glided on, with the question still unanswered. There was the horse, and there was the despatch; but there were also the Boers by the hundred, hemming him completely in, and, even if he were disposed to leave Ingleborough to his fate, any attempt seemed to be mad to a degree.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

AFTER A REST.

West started up into wakefulness the next morning from a dream in which he was galloping for his life with the Boers in full pursuit, and then he sighed and wondered when and how he had dropped asleep, for he could only recall being miserable, awake, and puzzled as to what to do, and then all seemed to have become blank till he was awakened by his captors' busy stir and the crackling of the fires being lighted.

West's first steps were to see to his companion, who did not seem to have moved, and the first feeling was one of satisfaction; but directly afterwards he felt uneasy, for Ingleborough seemed to be unnaturally still, and a shiver ran through him as he leaned over where his friend lay on the floor of the wagon, to place a hand upon the injured man's forehead below the bandage which made him look so ghastly.

Then came reaction as it was proved that the sufferer had only been in a deep sound sleep.

For Ingleborough's eyes opened, to gaze at him wonderingly.

"What's the matter? Oh, it's you, Noll!"

"Yes; you startled me!"

"Eh? What did I do?"

"You lay so still!"

"Did I? Oh, of course. I've been very fast asleep, I suppose. What time it is—nearly sundown?"

"No, it's morning—sunrise."

"I'm blessed! What, have I slept all night?"

West nodded and smiled.

"Soundly, I suppose!" he said. "But how are you?"

"Horribly stupid and muddled! I don't quite make out! Oh yes, I do now. I came down such a quelch that it knocked all the sense out of me, and my head feels all knocked on one side. But tell me: what about the despatch?"

"I have it all right so far!"

"That's good. Where are our ponies?"

"Tied up yonder to the wheel of a wagon."

"That's good, too, lad! Then all we've got to do is to help ourselves to them the first chance and ride away."

"Yes," said West drily, "the first chance; but will there be a first chance?"

"Why not? It's of no use to look at the black side of things! Where there's ill luck there's always good luck to balance it, and we're bound to have our share of both. We had the bad yesterday; the good will come to-morrow, or next day, or the day after—who knows? We were not killed. You had your ear nicked and I had a bad fall which will cure itself as fast as the slit in your ear grows up. I call it grand to have saved the despatch! Are they going to give us any breakfast?"

"Hah!" sighed West; "you've done me good, Ingle. I was regularly in the dumps."

"Keep out of them, then!" was the reply. "You didn't expect to get your message delivered at Mafeking without any trouble, did you?"

"No, no, of course not! Then you think we might make a dash for it some time?"

"Of course I do; but I don't suppose the chance will come to-day. Let's hope that our next move may take us nearer our goal, for I don't suppose the Boers will take us with them. They'll send us prisoners to Pretoria, I suppose; and we must make our dash somewhere on the road."

Ingleborough was right: the chance for the dash did not come that day, nor the next, nor the next. For the Boer commando did not stir from the natural stronghold which had been made its halting-place. In fact, two fresh parties, for which there was plenty of room, joined them, and a good deal of business went on: men going out on expeditions and returning: wagons laden with provisions and ammunition and two big field-pieces arriving, as if the force was being increased ready for some important venture—all of which busy preparation took place under the eyes of the two prisoners, who, while being fairly well treated in the way of rations, were carefully guarded.

"One would like to know a little more what it all means!" said Ingleborough. "As it is, one seems to be quite in the dark!"

"And we're doing nothing!" sighed West. "Oh, it's terrible! I must begin to stir, even if it is only to bring about another check."

"What would be the good of that?"

"Ease to one's brain!" said West passionately. "Here have I been trusted with this mission and am doing nothing, while all the time the poor fellows at Mafeking must be watching despairingly for the despatch that does not come."

"Look here, old lad," said Ingleborough sympathetically; "when a fellow's chained down hand and foot it's of no use for him to kick and strain; he only makes his wrists and ankles sore and weakens himself, so don't do it! Believe me, the proper time to act is when they take you out of your chains! It's very depressing, I know; but what can't be cured—"

"Must be endured. I know, Ingle; but here we are prisoners, and I can't help getting more hopeless."

"But you must! Things can't go on like this much longer! Either our troops will come here and attack the Boers, or the Boers will go and attack the British. Just have patience and wait!"

"But here we are, just as we were nearly a week ago, and nothing has happened."

"Oh yes, something has!" said Ingleborough, with a smile. "I've got well again! The first morning I couldn't have mounted my pony and ridden off even if they had brought it to the end of the wagon here and said: 'Be off!' To-day I could jump on and go off at full gallop. Do you call that nothing?"

"No, of course not!" said West. "There, you must forgive me! I'm very discontented, I know; but you see why."

"To be sure I do! I say, though, you've been at that satchel! The sandwiches are gone."

West nodded.

"Haven't eaten them, have you?"

"No, they're sewed up in the belt of my jacket. I did it two nights ago, and I'm living in hopes that they will not search us again."

"That's it, is it? Well, I'm glad you did that! There, keep a good heart; something is sure to happen before long!"

"I only hope it may; even evil would be better than this miserable state of inaction. I think till I feel half-mad."

"Well, we won't hope for the evil, only for something in the way of change, if it's only to pay a visit to Pretoria gaol."

"What!"

"Only so as to get some news to give to old Norton when we get back. It will interest him. I wonder whether he's keeping his eye on Master Plump-and-Pink. Well, I am blessed!"

"What is the matter? Are they making a move?" cried West excitedly, for Ingleborough had sprung to the end of their wagon prison to stand looking out.

"Someone has!" cried Ingleborough angrily. "Look here! Why, old Norton must have been asleep."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

BAD SHILLINGS ALWAYS COME BACK.

West stepped to his companion's side, looked out between the rough curtains of the wagon, and saw a group of mounted Boers surrounding a freshly-arrived wagon with its long team of bullocks, the black voorlooper at the head and the driver with his enormous whip on the box.

"Well," said West, after a sharp glance, "there's a fresh load of provisions, I suppose! What of it?"

"Rub your eyes, lad, and look again."

"They don't want rubbing."

"Well, of all the fellows! Look there, beyond those mounted men who escorted the wagon in—there where the commandant and the dismounted party are talking together."

"Yes, I see where you mean; but what has it to do with us? I don't— yes, I do. Why, it's Anson!" cried West excitedly.

"Anson it is! I began to think you were going blind!"

"But how strange! They have taken him prisoner then. Look here; we're not going to have him with us."

"It doesn't look as if he is a prisoner," said Ingleborough; "they all seem too friendly. I believe the scoundrel has deserted from the town and come to join the Boers. What has old Norton been about?"

"Is it possible?"

"Oh, it's possible enough, if old Norton has been to sleep. Rats desert sinking ships!"

"Kimberley isn't a sinking ship!" said West indignantly.

"I don't know so much about that, lad! There is a very small force ready to defend it; it's a long way from help; and, as we see here, the enemy is swarming down upon it from all directions. You see, it's so far from our forces and so near to the Free State border."

"Ah, there he is plainly enough, laughing with the commandant! Look, he clapped him on the shoulder!"

"Yes, I give him credit for anything!" said Ingleborough. "I shouldn't wonder if he was in full correspondence with the Boers and is ready to sell us as well as buy diamonds. As likely as not, he has slipped away with his swag so as to escape before the fighting begins. But how Norton can have let him get away is more than I can understand!"

"Well, it's plain enough that he's here!" said West; "and I can't help feeling glad that he is not a prisoner, for if he had been put with us it must have come to a quarrel. Look here, seeing what the treacherous thief is, we ought to denounce him to the commandant."

"Don't do anything of the kind! What good would it do?"

"But he is such a despicable wretch!"

"What's that to you?"

"Ingleborough!"

"Oh yes, I know what you're ready to say; but you've got something else to do besides playing the virtuous part of denouncing Master Anson as a diamond-dealer. Besides, I don't believe the Boers would think any the less of him if they believed you."

"They couldn't help believing our evidence!" said West.

"Nonsense! It isn't your business!"

"It's every honest man's business!" cried West hotly.

"Not if he is on Government service with a despatch to deliver in Mafeking," said Ingleborough, with a peculiar look at his companion.

"Hah!" cried West; "you are right again! But—oh!"

"Oh, what?"

"Why, he was present when we volunteered to carry the despatch!"

"To be sure, so he was!" cried Ingleborough excitedly.

"Then as soon as he knows we have been captured he'll denounce me to the commandant as the bearer of the message, and oh, Ingle, we shall be searched again!"

"Yes," was the thoughtful reply; "and you've got it on you. We might change jackets, but that would be no good. Could you rip it out of yours?"

"Yes, of course, in a few moments."

"Then you'd better."

"Not now; it's too late. We must wait for a better opportunity."

"But—"

"No, no, I tell you," cried West excitedly; "look, he's not a prisoner. The scoundrel has recognised us and is coming here. Why, Ingleborough, he's a traitor—a rebel. No wonder he got through the Boer lines. Look! there can be no doubt about it; he has joined their side. Those men, the Boer leaders, the commandants and field-cornets, cannot know that he is a thief."

"But they soon shall!" answered Ingleborough hoarsely.

"No, no, keep quiet," whispered West; "he's laughing with them and coming here. Don't say a word; wait! It's my advice now."

"If I can!" muttered Ingleborough. "The skunk! He's sending the blood dancing through my veins! He must be denounced, and if he begins to say a word about your volunteering to bear the despatch I'll let him have it hot and strong."

"Why, you seem to have completely turned your coat!" said West bitterly.

"I have! What we have just been saying has stirred up all my bile. But I wish I could turn your coat too—out of the wagon."

"Why not?" said West, as a thought occurred to him, and running to the other end of the vehicle, stripping off his jacket as he did so, he thrust out his head and called to the sentry whose duty it was to guard against any attempt to escape.

"What is it?" said the man quietly.

"Take my coat and hang it on the rocks yonder," he said. "I've been sleeping in it night after night, and it's all fusty and damp. Out yonder, right in the sun."

The request was so simple and reasonable that the man nodded, took the jacket, and was turning to go away.

"Don't let anyone meddle with it," said West; "it's my only one, and I don't want a Kaffir to carry it off."

"He'd better not try!" said the Boer, with a meaning laugh, and he bore the jacket right away to where the sun was beating hotly upon the rock, where the next minute the garment was spread out.

"Talk about me having a ready wit in an emergency!" said Ingleborough merrily; "why, I'm a baby to you, West, my son! There: I'm proud of you."

"Oh, but the risk!" whispered the young man. "That precious garment lying carelessly yonder!"

"Carelessly? That's just the way to keep it safe. Who'd ever think of examining the coat lying out there?"

"The first man who goes near it!"

"The first rogue, and he'd only feel in the pockets. But there's no fear: that sentry would fire at any thief who tried to steal! That's safe enough!"

"I wish I could think so!" replied West. "The first thing when they come will be to ask me what I have done with my jacket."

"Pooh! In that loose, dark flannel shirt they'll never think of it. I thought they'd have been here, though, before now."

They had to wait for some little time still, for the Boers had gathered about the new-comer, forming a half-circle, evidently to listen while Anson talked to them earnestly, his gesticulations suggesting to Ingle borough, rightly or wrongly, that he was describing the arrangements for defence made by the British garrison at Kimberley, which he had so lately left; and as he spoke every now and then the listeners nodded, slapped the stocks of their rifles, turned to make remarks to one another, and gave the speaker a hearty cheer.

"Oh, you beauty!" growled Ingleborough. "I can't hear a word you say; but I'm as certain as if I were close up that you're telling those chuckle-headed Dutch that all they've got to do is to march straight in and take Kimberley, for they'll find it as easy as kissing their hands."

"If he is telling them the weak points it's downright treason," said West bitterly, after a glance out of the wagon in the direction of the rocks on which lay his jacket.

"It's stand him up with a firing party, and a sergeant with a revolver to finish the work if it isn't quite done," said Ingleborough. "The cowardly scoundrel: he'll be getting his deserts at last! I say, though, isn't it sickening? A blackguard like that, who doesn't stop at anything to gain his ends!"

For Anson had finished speaking and the Boers had closed round him, patting him on the back and pressing forward one after the other to shake his hand, while he smiled at them in his mildest, blandest way.

After a few more friendly words the ex-clerk began slouching slowly up, followed by half-a-dozen of the principal men, till he was close to the tail of the prison wagon where West and Ingleborough were seated trying to look perfectly indifferent, but the former with his heart beating heavily and a flush coming hotly into his cheeks, when the Boers stopped short, leaving Anson to speak, listening the while as if they anticipated a little amusement from their new friend the informer hailing the prisoners in the wain.

"Hullo!" cried Anson, with one of his most irritating smiles—one full of the triumph over them he enjoyed and the contempt he felt, "hullo! Who'd have thought that the virtuous West and the enthusiastic sham detective Ingleborough would have come out here to join the Boers? But don't tell me. I know: I can see how it is. You've both been bled, and that's let some of the bounce out of you."

He stopped for a moment for those he insulted to reply, but as they both sat looking at him in cool contempt he went on jeeringly: "The Boers know what they're about, I see. When a horse has the megrims they bleed him in the ear, and judging that the same plan would do for a donkey they've bled cocky West there, and bull-headed Ingleborough on the skull."

West's face grew of a deeper red, and he drew in a long deep breath, for those of the Boers who understood English burst into a hearty laugh at this sally of the renegade's.

"Well, I'm glad of it!" continued Anson, taking the Boers' laughter as so much approval. "It was all you wanted, Bully West, and I daresay, now that you've come to your senses, you'll make a decent Boer. There, I'll give you a recommendation for a clerkship, for you do really write a decent hand."

"Say thanks," growled Ingleborough, with a sneer which told of his contempt; "he will no doubt have plenty of interest. He has come up to lead the Boer army's band and give lessons on the flute."

Anson started as if he had been stung.

"Quiet, man, quiet!" whispered West to Ingleborough; but it was in vain.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE RINGING OF THE SHILLING.

People make their plans in cold blood and forget all about them when the blood grows hot.

It was so here. West had made up his mind what to do while cool, but acted just in the fashion he had cried out against to his companion.

For as soon as Anson lounged up to them in his supercilious jaunty way, West's cool blood warmed, grew hot at the scoundrel's contemptuous look of triumph, and at the insult respecting the Boers boiled over.

"How dare you!" he raged out. "Keep your distance, you contemptible cur, or, prisoner though I am, I'll give you such a thrashing as shall make you yell for mercy!"

"Hullo! What does this mean?" said one of the Boer officers, closing up, followed by the others.

"The prisoner is a bit saucy!" said Anson contemptuously. "You did not bleed him enough!"

"You know these two?" asked the officer.

"Well, in a way," said Anson, in a haughty, indifferent tone. "They were a pair of underlings where I was engaged at the diamond-mines. Insolent bullying fellows, both of them! But you'll tame them down."

The Boer leader nodded.

"A bit sore at being taken prisoners!" he said.

"No," cried West; "it is the fortune of war, sir. We are Englishmen, and we made a dash to escape Kimberley, and got through your investing lines."

"To carry despatches to the rooineks?"

"No," replied West. "Your men searched us and found no despatches."

"Messages then. You were going to the British forces?"

"We should have joined them after a time, perhaps," said West, speaking more coolly.

"He's lying!" said Anson sharply. "Have them searched again!"

The Boer commandant nodded, gave the order, and half-a-dozen of his men came forward, after which the prisoners were ordered out of the wagon, and they let themselves down, when they were thoroughly searched from head to heel—of course, without result, and the Boer chief turned frowningly to Anson.

"They must have hid the letter somewhere about the wagon then!"

"Two of you get in and search!" said the commandant.

This was carefully carried out, and the men descended.

"Then they must have destroyed their message before you took them," cried Anson, "or somehow since."

"They were carefully searched as soon as they were taken," observed one of the field-cornets.

"Yes," said the commandant, "and I saw it done. Well, they will not carry any news to Mafeking. Tell them that the British are being swept into the sea east and south, and their rule is at an end. I want brave men who can ride and fight, so if they like to join the Federal forces and do their duty there will be a prosperous time for them. If they refuse there will be a long imprisonment, perhaps something worse."

"Mr Anson, the renegade, need not trouble himself, sir," said West quietly. "Neither my companion nor I will do as he has done."

"You had better!" said Anson sneeringly. "It's a grand chance for you now your characters are gone and the I.D. detectives are after you."

Ingleborough looked at the speaker sharply; but Anson made believe not to notice it and went on.

"You've no character now, either of you," he continued coolly. "Old Norton came after me as I was trekking south, utterly sick of the English lot. He came on the old pretext: that I had bought diamonds and was carrying them off. He searched again, and then I told him the simple truth—that you two had volunteered to carry despatches so as to get clear off with the swag you had acquired—after accusing me; but he professed not to believe me, and took me back to Kimberley, but the very next day he started off with half-a-dozen men to fetch you back, and I came away."

"With the diamonds you had hidden?" said Ingleborough sharply.

"Perhaps," replied Anson coolly. "So, you see, you had better join our party, for even if you escaped it would only be for the police superintendent to get hold of you both, and if he did, you wouldn't find him such an excellent friend."

"Wants thinking about!" said Ingleborough drily. "But 'our' party—'our'?"

"Yes," said Anson coolly. "I've made up my mind to belong to the right owners of the country for a long time past. We've got the gold at Johannesburg, and the diamonds at Kimberley are ours by right, and we're going to have them."

There was a murmur of satisfaction from the Boers at this, and Anson went on nonchalantly: "That is one reason why I consented to serve the company in such a beggarly position. I wanted to learn all I could about the mining so that it might come in useful when we of the Boer party took possession."

"And then, I suppose," said Ingleborough, "you'll expect to be manager-in-chief?"

"Well, I don't go so far as that," said Anson; "but, with my knowledge of the management of the mining business, I feel sure my Boer friends will find it to their advantage to retain me high up on the staff. You see, there are so many things in the way of checking losses which I have mastered."

"Stopping the illicit-diamond-buying and selling, for instance," said Ingleborough sarcastically.

"Exactly!" replied Anson, apparently without noticing the sarcasm; "and I've been thinking that no doubt I could put a good thing in both your ways. Of course, we have been bad enough friends; but I'll pass over all that if you'll serve me as faithfully as you did the company. What do you say?"

"Say?" cried West.

"Stop! Hold hard, Oliver!" cried Ingleborough, stopping him short; "this is a thing that can't be settled in a minute. We want time. All I say now, Mr Anson, is that I'm glad we bear such a good character, seeing that we are illicit-diamond-dealers escaping with the plunder that we haven't got."

"Exactly!" said Anson. "Very well, then, I'll give you till to-morrow night to think it over, and you'll soon see which side your bread's buttered."

"Don't stop me, Ingle," said West hotly. "I can't stand this. I must speak. This—"

A sharp report from behind the wagon checked further words, and every man made a rush for this place or that in full expectation that a sudden attack had been made upon the laager within the rocky walls.

At the same moment a Kaffir of the blackest type and with his hair greased up into the familiar Zulu ring bounded into sight, tripped, fell upon his hands, sprang up again, ran on, and disappeared, whilst a rush was made for the man who fired, leaving Anson and the prisoners together.

The next minute West's blood felt as if it was running cold in his veins as he saw, only a few yards from him and close to the stone upon which his jacket had been stretched, the sentry slowly re-loading his pistol. But the coat was gone.

West had hard work to repress a groan. "My orders were to fire at anyone I saw stealing," said the man surlily, and West heard every word.

"Well, who was stealing?" asked one of the officers.

"A Kaffir," replied the sentry. "I'd got a jacket stretched out upon the stones yonder, to get aired in the sunshine, and I only took my eyes off it for a minute, when I saw a foot rise up from behind a stone, grab hold of the coat with its toes—"

"Nonsense!" cried the officer; "a foot could not do that!"

"Not do it?" said the man excitedly. "It had to do it; and it was creeping away, when I fired, and the black sprang up and ran."

"Where's the jacket?"

The officer's question woke an echo in West's breast, and he started, for it was just as if the question was repeated there, and it seemed to be echoed so loudly that he fancied those near must have heard it.

"He's got it, I suppose," said the sentry coolly. "Carried it away, and a bullet too somewhere in his carcass."

A miserably despondent feeling attacked West at these words, for he had clung to the hope that he might be able to recover the despatch, succeed in escaping and delivering it in safety, however late; while now the desire to get away died out, for how could he return to Kimberley and confess that he had failed?

He turned to glance at Ingleborough, who met his eyes and then shrugged his shoulders as much as to say: "It's a bad job, and I pity you."

At that moment a hand was clapped heavily upon West's shoulder, and the Boer who had saluted him so roughly pointed to the wagon, and he saw that his companion was being treated in the same way, while, the scare being over, upon their walking back and preparing to climb in, they were called upon to stop. Naturally the prisoners obeyed, and, turning, they found the group of Boers in earnest conversation once more with Anson, who at the end of a few minutes nodded decisively and approached his two old fellow-clerks, making West's heart begin to thump with excitement and his eyes gleam, for the despair he felt at the loss he had sustained made him ready to turn fiercely upon the first enemy who addressed him.

"Take it calmly!" whispered Ingleborough. "Let me diplomatise. You'll do no good by making a row."

"Take it calmly!" whispered back West, "and at a time like this! I can't!"

"Look here, you two," said Anson coolly. "Let's have no more bones about the matter. These gentlemen say they have too much to think about to bother over any shilly-shallying on the part of a couple of prisoners. You know it's a good chance, and I've told them you'll both join along with me. Just tell them out and out you will."

"You miserable renegade, how dare you!" cried West fiercely.

"Here, what does that mean?" cried the Boer commandant sharply.

"Shamming!" replied Anson, with a contemptuous laugh. "They're going to join us, knowing, as they do, that the game is all up at Kimberley; but they put on all this make-believe. They want to be able to say that they were forced to serve, so as to hedge—so as to make it all comfortable with their consciences, as they call them."

"It is false!" cried West furiously—"a tissue of lies! Don't believe him; this man is no better than a miserable contemptible thief!"

"What!" shouted Anson, lowering the rifle he carried and taking a step forward with what was intended to be a fierce aspect.

But he only took one step, being checked suddenly by the action of West, who, regardless of the weapon, sprang at him, and would have wrenched away the rifle had he not been seized by a couple of the Boers, who held him fast.

"Pooh! I don't want to shoot the wretched cad!" said Anson contemptuously. "An old fellow-clerk of mine! He's savage and jealous of my position here! He always was an ill-tempered brute!"

"But he says that you are a thief!" said the Boer commandant sternly.

"Pooh! A spiteful man would say anything!" cried Anson contemptuously. "Look here, sir, I've watched the Boer troubles from the first: I've seen how the English have been trying to find an excuse for seizing the two republics: I know how they got possession of the great diamond-mines by a trick arranged with the surveyors of the boundaries."

There was a low murmur of assent here from the gathering crowd of Boers who had now surrounded him.

"Yes," he said, raising his voice, "I knew all the iniquities of the British Government—how the English had seized the diamond-fields, and how they were trying to get the gold-mines, and as soon as the war broke out I made up my mind to join the people fighting for their liberty."

There was a burst of cheering from the few who could follow the speaker, and then a roar as soon as his words were explained to the crowd, while Anson looked round with his fat face growing shiny, as he beamed upon his hearers.

"Yes," said the Boer leader coldly; "but this young man, who knows you, charges you with being a thief."

"All cowardly malice!" cried Anson contemptuously, and giving his fingers a snap. "A thief?—a robber?—nonsense. Pooh! I only dealt in and brought away with me a few of the stones, which were as much mine as theirs. I was not coming away from the enemy empty-handed. I said to myself that I'd spoil the Egyptians as much as I could, and I did."

There was a shout of delight at this, and one of the field-cornets gave the speaker a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Yes, I brought some away," continued Anson, rejoicing fatly in the success of his words; and, raising his voice, he said, first in English and then in Boer-Dutch: "I brought some away, and I wish I had brought more."

There was a fresh and a long-continued roar of delight, repeated again and again, giving the speaker time to collect his thoughts, and as soon as he could gain silence he continued.

"Look here," he said: "I came and joined the Boers because I believed their cause to be just; and I said to myself, knowing what I do of the secrets of the diamond-mines, I will be the first as soon as Kimberley is taken to show the commandants where the British tyrants have hidden away the stones that belong of right to the Boers, the stones that have been stolen from the earth—the land they fought for and won with their blood from the savage black scum who infested the country. I know where the stones are hidden away, and I can, if you like, lead you to what the British think you will never find. But if you are going to believe the words of this malicious boy, and consider me to be a common thief, I've done. You can have the few paltry stones I brought away to sell and pay for my bread and meat till the war is over, and let me go. I don't want to act as your guide into Kimberley! It's nothing to me! I have told you what I did; and what is more, I'd do it again!"

"Yes," said Ingleborough, in a whisper to West, as he sat holding his hand to his injured head: "I believe him there."

West nodded, and the next minute they saw Anson being led away in triumph by a crowd of Boers; but the commandant, with half-a-dozen more who seemed to be officers, and the man who had defended them when they were captured, remained close by the prisoners, talking together.

Soon after, the commandant approached them, glanced at Ingleborough, who lay back, evidently in pain, and then turned to West: "You heard what your old friend said?"

"Yes," replied West.

"It is all true?"

"His base confession is," said West boldly. "The man is a detected illicit-diamond-dealer."

"He only bought what the British wrongly claimed!" said the Boer warmly. "What right had they to make laws forbidding people to buy what was freely given up by the earth for the benefit of all?"

"It is of no use for me to argue about the matter!" said West coolly. "I shall never convince you, and you will never convince me."

"Oh yes, I should, after you had come to your senses! There, we are not brutes, only men fighting for our liberties, and I like you, for you are brave and manly. Why not join our cause? It is just."

West looked the Boer full in the eyes, thinking the while that the man spoke in all sincerity and belief that his cause was right.

"Well, what do you say?" cried the Boer.

West tightened his lips and shook his head.

The Boer frowned and turned to Ingleborough.

"Well," he said, "you join us, and you will not repent. Prove faithful, and you will gain a place of trust among us!"

West listened for his comrade's reply.

"Oh, I can't join without him," said Ingleborough. "He's master, and I'm only man!"

"Then he was bearer of the despatch—what that man Anson said was true?"

"Oh yes, that part of his story was true enough."

"That you were despatch-riders on the way to Mafeking—you two?"

"Quite right."

"And you two had been diamond-dealers, and brought away a quantity?"

"Just as many, as we schoolboys used to say, as you could put in your eye with the point of a needle. All a lie! Anson was putting his own case. All we brought away was the despatch."

"Then where is it?" said the Boer sharply.

"I don't know; I was not the bearer," said Ingleborough quietly, "But you know where it is now?"

"I—do—not," said Ingleborough firmly. "I have not the slightest idea where it is!"

"Then you have sent it on by someone else?"

"No," said Ingleborough. "There, you know that we have failed, and if you set us at liberty, all we can do is to go back to Kimberley and say what has happened."

"You will not go back to Kimberley," said the Boer, speaking with his eyes half-closed, "and if you did it would only be to go into prison, for the Diamond City is closely besieged, and if not already taken it will in a few days be ours. There, go back to your wagon, and spend the time in thinking till I send for you again. The choice is before you—a good position with us, or a long imprisonment before you are turned out of the country."

He pointed towards their temporary place of confinement, and then turned away, while a couple of the Boers marched them to the wagon and left them in the sentry's charge.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE SKY CLEARS.

Once more in the wagon, one ox a pair of despondent prisoners, hot in temper as well as in person with the excitement of what he had so lately gone through, West cast himself down upon the floor ready to groan, while his more experienced, harder comrade sat down cross-legged to think.

"If I only knew where the coat was!" said West, with a groan.

"Hah!" sighed Ingleborough. "I'm afraid it's gone for ever! That Kaffir was one of the Boers' slave-like servants, of course, or he wouldn't have been in the camp; and after the attempt at theft, if he was not too badly wounded, he would bolt right off for his own people. It's a sad business, old lad: but I don't think you need fear that it will fall into the Boers' hands."

"No, I don't fear that!" replied West. "But it is the misery and shame of the failure that worries me! I did so mean to succeed!"

"Hah! Yes," sighed Ingleborough again; "but someone said—hang me if I know who!—''Tis not in mortals to command success.' You're only a mortal, old fellow, and you must make the best of it."

West groaned.

"It's horribly hard; just, too, as I had hatched out a way of escape," continued Ingleborough.

"I don't want to escape now."

"What? You don't mean to join the Boers as old Fat Face suggested?"

"Why not?" said West dismally. "I dare not go back to Kimberley."

"You daren't turn traitor to your country, and, though you feel right down in the dumps, you dare go back to Kimberley and walk straight to the Commandant and speak out like a man, saying: 'I did my best, sir; but I failed dismally!'"

"Ah!" sighed West.

"And he would reply: 'Well, it's a bad job, my lad; but it's the fortune of war.'"

West held out his hand as he sat there tailor-fashion by his friend in the bottom of the wagon, and there was a warm grip exchanged.

"Bravo, boy! You're coming round! I knew it. You only wanted time."

"Thank you, Ingle! Now then, what was your idea of escaping?"

"Oh, a very simple one, but as likely to succeed as to fail."

"Tell me at once! It will keep me from thinking about that miserable despatch."

"And the jacket! You and I will have to take turn and turn with mine when the cold nights come, unless we pretend to lovely Anson that we are going to stop, and ask him to get you a fresh covering for your chest and back."

"Oh, none of that, Ingle! I can't bear lying subterfuges. I'd sooner bear the cold of the bitter nights."

"Don't use big words, lad! Subterfuge, indeed! Say dodge—a war dodge. But about my plan! You have noticed that for some reason they have not taken our ponies away."

"Yes, they are still tethered to the wheel ox that wagon. What of that? It would be impossible to get to them and ride out unchallenged."

"Oh no: not my way!"

"What is your way?" said West excitedly.

"Last night was dark as pitch."

"Yes; but there are double lines of sentries about."

"With sharp eyes too; but there was a commando rode out, evidently to patrol the country and look out for our people."

"Yes; I heard them ride away."

"And I heard them come back at daybreak; but I was too lazy to get up."

"I don't see what you are aiming at," said West wearily; "but I suppose you have some good idea—I hope a plausible one."

"I think it is, old lad," said Ingleborough, speaking now in a low whisper. "Suppose when that commando musters after dark—I am supposing that one will go out again to-night—suppose, I say, when it musters we had crept out of the wagon and crawled as far as that one where our ponies are tethered?"

West's hand stole forward to grip his comrade's knee.

"Ah, you're beginning to grasp it!" said Ingleborough. "Then, as I still have my knife, suppose I cut the reins and we mounted."

"And joined the muster?" said West, in a hoarse whisper.

"It isn't a dragoon troop, with men answering the roll-call and telling off in fours from the right."

"No, just a crowd!" said West excitedly.

"Exactly! There's only one reason why we shouldn't succeed."

"What's that?"

"We don't look rough and blackguardly enough."

"Oh, Ingle, I quite grasp it now!"

"I've been quite aware of that, old lad, for the last minute—that and something else. I don't know what will have happened when the war is over, but at present I don't wear a wooden leg. Oh, my knee! I didn't think your fingers were made of bone."

"I beg your pardon, old fellow!"

"Don't name it, lad! I'm very glad you have so much energy in you, and proud of my powers of enduring such a vice-like—or say vicious—grip without holloaing out. Next time try your strength on Anson! Why, your fingers would almost go through his fat."

"Ingle, we must try it to-night."

"Or the first opportunity."

"Why didn't you think of that before we lost the despatch?"

"Hah! Why didn't I? Suppose it didn't come!"

West rose and crept to the end of the wagon and looked out.

"The ponies are still there," he whispered, and then he started violently, for a voice at the other end of the wagon cried: "Hallo, you two!"

West turned, with his heart sinking, convinced that the man must have heard.

"I'm just off sentry!" the Boer said good-humouredly. "I must have shaved that Kaffir somewhere and not hurt him much. As soon as I was relieved I went and had a good look for him; but there wasn't so much as a drop of blood."

"Poor wretch!" thought West.

"Lucky for him!" said Ingleborough, in Dutch.

"But I made the beggar drop the jacket," said the Boer, laughing; and, to the delight of the prisoners, he sent it flying into the wagon.

That was all, and the sentry strode away, just as West bounded upon the recovered garment like a tiger upon its prey.

"Say bless him!" whispered Ingleborough.

"Oh, Ingle!" groaned his companion, in a choking voice: "I can feel the despatch quite safe."

"Hah!" ejaculated Ingleborough.

"And such a little while ago I was ready to curse fate and the very hour I was born!"

"And very wrong of you too, my son!" said Ingleborough, in tones which betrayed some emotion. "Cursing's a very bad habit, and only belongs to times when wicked old men lived in old-fashioned plays and indulged in it upon all kinds of occasions, especially when they had sons and daughters who wanted to marry somebody else."

"Oh, Ingle! Oh, Ingle! The sky doesn't look so covered with black clouds now."

"By no means, my lad! I can see enough blue sky to make a Dutchman a pair of breeches—for Dutchman let's say Boer. I say, what do you say to going out on patrol to-night?"

"Yes, yes, of course! But we have no guns!"

"Nor bandoliers, and that's a fact! Well, it's of no use to think of getting our own back again, even if we said we repented and meant to join the Boers at once."

"They wouldn't trust us!"

"Too slim! Fools if they did!"

"Then it is hopeless!" said West. "Someone would notice it at once!"

"Yes," said Ingleborough, "and those were beautiful rifles too. But look here: I could see a way out of the difficulty, only you are so scrupulous. One mustn't tell a diplomatic fib."

"I can't stand telling an outrageous lie, even under stern necessity!" said West, pulling down his jacket after putting it on.

"And you are so horribly honest!"

"Yes," said West bitterly. "I have not, as Anson declared, been busy buying illicit-diamonds. But why do you say this—what do you mean?"

"I meant that I'd have risked it as soon as it was dark, and crept away to steal a couple of the Boers' Mausers—just like a cat—mouser after Mauser—I say, what a horrible joke!"

West was silent.

"They say they're splendid pieces; but it would be a terrible theft, because I should take the bandoliers too."

West was still silent.

"I say, lad," whispered Ingleborough, laughing gently: "you couldn't object to my stealing the rifles that would be used to kill our men."

"How would you manage?" whispered West.

"Hah!" sighed Ingleborough, relieving his breast of a long pent-up breath, as he looked up at the arched-in wagon-tilt: "this fellow's very nearly as wicked as I am."

"Don't—don't joke!" said West: "the matter is too serious. How would you manage?"

"Never you mind, old Very Particular! Leave that to me! By the way, though, before I lie down and have a good nap, in case I should be out all night, I don't think there is the slightest probability of our joining the Boer forces, do you?"

"Not the slightest!" answered West drily. "There'll be plenty of traitors to their country without us!"

Five minutes later Ingleborough, whose head troubled him more than he owned to, was sleeping soundly, leaving West thinking deeply over the prospects of a daring escape, and every now and then glancing out and across the laager to make sure that the ponies had not been moved, as well as to fix the position of every wagon well in his mind ready for the time when his comrade and he would be stealing across in the dark, and thinking at times that the Boers must be mad to leave their prisoners' mounts tethered in sight of their temporary prison.

"But they're altogether mad!" he mused, "or they would never have dared to defy the power of England in the way they have done!"

This thought had hardly passed through his mind when he saw a group of the laager's occupants come by the prison wagon, each with a couple of well-filled bandoliers crossbelt-fashion over his breast, and rifle slung, making for the range forming one side of the laager. They broke up into twos and threes, and as they approached they unslung their weapons and took off their cartridge-belts to place them beneath the wagon-tilts, while they settled down to prepare a meal before having a rest.

"Just come off duty!" thought the prisoner, and, with his heart beating fast, he sat watching two of the men and then gazing hard at the nearest wagon, piercing in imagination the thick canvas covering spread over the arching-in hoops, and seeing, as he believed, exactly where two Mauser rifles and the Boers' bandoliers had been laid.

"Why, if it were dark," he thought, "I could creep out and secure those two rifles as easily as possible—if they were not taken away!"

West's face turned scarlet, and it was not from the heat of the sun upon the wagon-tilt, nor from the sultry air which passed in from one end and out at the other.

He drew a deep breath and moved towards Ingleborough to tell him of the burning thoughts within him; but his comrade was sleeping so peacefully that he shrank from awakening him.

"He'll want all his strength!" thought West, and then he fell to wondering whether or not they would succeed.

The plan was so wonderfully simple that it seemed very possible, but—

Yes, there were so many "buts" rising up in the way. The slightest hitch would spoil all, and they would be detected and subjected to the roughest of usage, even if they were not shot. But it was worth the risk, and the thinker's heart began to beat faster, and his hand stole to the part of his jacket where he had hidden the despatch, and as he did so he mentally saw himself and his companion riding through the darkness with the Boers, and waiting for an opportunity to dash off, taking the enemy so by surprise that they would be off and away and well into the gloom before they could be followed.

Once well mounted, with the open veldt before them, and the darkness for their friend, he felt that it would go hard if they did not escape.

He had come to this point, and was full of a wild exhilaration, feeling at heart that the venture only wanted the dash with which they would infuse it, when his attention was taken up by seeing the Boer leader with about half-a-dozen of his field-cornets pass by the open end of the tent and cross the laager.

He watched them with some anxiety, and then all at once his heart began to sink with a sudden attack of despair, for two of the party went off in front, unfastened the reins by which the two Basuto ponies were tethered to the wagon-wheels, and led them to where the Boer leader and the rest had halted, prior to putting the little animals through their paces as if to test their powers in connection with some object in view.

A castle in the air dashed down into nothingness, and he uttered a low groan, which made Ingleborough start up with a wondering look in his eyes.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

HOW TO ESCAPE.

"What's wrong?" said Ingleborough, in a whisper.

"Look out at the bottom of the wagon," was West's reply.

Ingleborough rose to his knees, and at a glance grasped the meaning of his companion's troubled look.

"Going to adopt our little Basutos for their own use, eh?" he said coolly. "Well, I wonder they haven't done it before! Bah! There are plenty more horses about! What worries me is how I'm to get a couple of rifles and the ammunition. I was rather too cock-a-hoop about that when I talked to you, for these beloved Dutch cuddle up their pieces as if they loved them with all their hearts."

West smiled.

"Oh, don't do that because I said cuddled."

"I smiled because I see the way to get a couple of rifles as soon as it's dark," said West, and he told what he had noted.

"Then there's no reason for you to look glum. I'll get a couple of horses somehow if you'll get the guns. Here, I'd whistle or sing if I were not afraid of taking the sentry's attention. We're all right, lad, and that bit of sleep has taken away the miserable pain in my head which I keep on having since my fall. Now then, what are they going to do with those ponies?"

Sitting well back, the prisoners watched all that went on, and saw the ponies mounted and put through their paces by a couple of big Boers of the regular heavy, squat, Dutch build.

"Bah! What a shame!" whispered Ingleborough; "it's murdering the poor little nags. A regular case for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Those fellows want a couple of dray-horses to carry them."

"Yes, and they've found it out," said West softly.

For as they looked on they saw the two Boers pull up after a canter up and down the full length of the laager, and then drop clumsily off, with the result that the ponies spread out their legs and indulged in a good shake which nearly dislodged their saddles.

Then a couple more of the onlookers tried the little mounts, but stopped after one trot up and down, and a general conversation ensued, resulting in the ponies being led off and tied up again in the same place, making West's heart beat as fast as if he had been running hard, while all the time he tried to crush down a feeling of elation, lest he should be premature in his hopefulness and be met with a fresh disappointment, for, though he saw the reins fastened in the same places, there was plenty of time before dark for the ponies to be removed.

Just then their examination of the Boers' proceedings was brought to an end by one of their captors bringing the roughly-prepared portion of food that was served out to them every day.

It was rough, but good of its kind, for the Boers seemed to like to live well, and they did not stint their prisoners, who, at a word from Ingleborough, fell to at once.

"Appetite or no appetite, eat all you can," he said. "We may have to work very hard to-night, and shall need all our strength."

There was a fair amount left after they had done, and this was carefully tied up ready for taking with them if they were successful that night. After this there was nothing more to be done but to wait till darkness fell, and they sat back watching while the sentry was again changed, when the fresh man visited the wagon, to climb in, look carefully round, and eye them suspiciously before returning to his post.

"Does that fellow suspect anything?" whispered West.

"Of course; but nothing fresh. He comes on duty under the full impression that we mean to escape if we can, and he feels that if we attempt it his duty is to send a bullet through each of us."

"Then you don't think he suspects that we are going to make an attempt to-night?"

"Pooh! How could he? But look! There goes Anson! Not coming here, is he?"

"No: going to his own wagon! I say, Ingle, do you think he has any illicit-diamonds with him?"

"I'm sure of it! He could not, according to his nature, have come away without robbing the company somehow. I only wish I had the searching of his wagon! I suppose Norton did not have a chance!"

"Yes, look! He has gone to his wagon. Where should you search if you had the chance?"

"Not quite sure yet!" said Ingleborough gruffly. "But don't talk to me. I want to think of something better than diamonds."

"You mean liberty?"

"That's right. And now, once for all, we don't want to make any more plans: each knows what he has to do, and as soon as it is dark he has to do it."

"No," said West gravely; "your part must wait until I have managed to get the rifles."

"Well, yes; I must not be in too great a hurry. But I say, wouldn't it be better for us to go together to the horses, and hide by them or under them till the Boers muster?"

"But suppose the sentry takes it into his head to come and examine the wagon, and gives the alarm?"

"Oh, don't suppose anything!" said Ingleborough impatiently. "We must chance a good deal and leave the rest to luck."

West nodded, and fixed his eyes upon the wagon he had previously singled out, noticing that the Boers who occupied it were lying right beneath, sleeping, each with a rolled-up blanket for a rug.

A little later he saw a big heavy-looking Kaffir come up, look underneath at the sleepers, and then go off for a short distance, to lie down upon his chest, doubling his arms before him so as to make a resting-place for his forehead, and lying so perfectly motionless that it became evident that he also was asleep.

The evening was closing in fast now, and the men began to move about more as if making preparations for some excursion which they had in view.

"That looks well!" said Ingleborough. "There's going to be some movement to-night. All was so still half-an-hour ago that I began to think we should have to put off our attempt."

"Oh, don't say that!" said West. "We must go!"

Further conversation was checked by the coming of the sentry to look in upon them, scowling heavily before he slouched away.

Ten minutes or so later the darkness began to fall, increasing so fast that within half-an-hour the laager would have been quite black if it had not been for a lantern inside a wagon here and there; but, in spite of the darkness, the camp began to grow more animated, a buzz of conversation seeming to rise from the wagons like the busy hum of the insects outside.

All at once, as Ingleborough was going to draw his companion's attention to this fact, he felt a hand steal along his arm to grip his hand. Then it was withdrawn, a very faint rustling followed, and the listener felt that he was alone.

"Good luck go with him!" he muttered. "I wonder whether he'll succeed?"

Leaning a little forward, he seemed to strain his ears to listen, though he felt that this was absurd, till all at once it struck him that he heard the soft sound of stealthy steps approaching from the other end of the wagon, and, creeping towards the sounds, he felt more than heard two men approaching, and as he got his head over the wagon-box he heard a whisper.

"Anson and the sentry!" he said to himself. "The spy, come to find out whether we're safe. Yes, that was Anson's whisper! Then we're done if he brings a lantern and finds me alone."

He paused for a moment or two, asking himself what he should do; and then the idea came.

Subsiding into a reclining position, he suddenly gave his thigh a sharp slap and started as if the blow had roused him up.

"Don't go to sleep, stupid!" he said aloud. "One can't sleep all these awful long nights! Oh dear me, this is precious dull work. I wish we had a lantern and a box of dominoes! I wonder whether there is a box in the laager?"

"Bother!" he said, in a low smothered tone, with his hands covering his face. "I wish you wouldn't! I was dreaming about old Anson and that he'd got ten thousand pounds' worth of diamonds in a bag aboard his wagon."

"Like enough!" continued Ingleborough, in his natural voice. "Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed. "I should like to serve the beggar out!"

"How?" he said, in the smothered sleepy voice.

"How? I'll tell you how it might be done if he had got them. Find out where his wagon is in the laager, and then wait till the sentry's asleep, and crawl out of this thing, and nobble the lot."

"Rubbish!"

"Not it! We could get them easily enough and bring them back here. Nobody would suspect us! But there would be no getting them away! I say, are you asleep again?"

"No," said West quietly. "What's the matter with you? Are you talking in your sleep? I was afraid to come in, thinking someone was with—"

He got no farther, for Ingleborough clapped a hand over his mouth and continued.

"Heigho! What bosh one does talk! I wish there wasn't a blessed diamond in the world!"

He removed his hand, and feeling that there was some reason for all this, West said quietly: "Why?"

"Why? See what a lot of trouble they cause! This fighting is as much about the diamond-fields as anything, and—Hullo! how you startled me?"

It was quite true: he was horribly startled, feeling that their plan was spoiled, for there was a faint sound at the end of the wagon and the door of a lantern was suddenly opened, throwing the light within, and giving the prisoners a glance of the sentry's and Anson's faces looking in.

"All right?" said the sentry, in his own tongue.

"Oh yes, all right!" replied Ingleborough; "but look here: you might as well leave us that lantern! We won't set fire to the bed-curtains, I promise you!"

"No," said the Boer, and with a chuckle he closed the door of the lantern and walked whistling away to his companion.

"Anson!" said West, with his lips close to Ingleborough's ear.

"Yes: the fox! How you startled me! I didn't hear you come! I was keeping up a sham conversation, for they were stealing down upon us to catch us on the hop! You failed, then, or were you obliged to turn back?"

"Neither: I succeeded!"

"What? You got the rifles?"

"Yes."

"Then they must have seen them when the light was thrown in!"

"No," said West quietly; "they are outside, leaning against the near hind wheel."

"West, lad, this seems too good to be true. How did you manage?"

"Easily enough. I had marked down one wagon—the one I pointed out to you while it was light—and as soon as I dropped down from here I went on my hands and knees to crawl towards it. You know what a short distance it was, and by going very slowly I passed two others where the Boers were sitting outside talking. This was easy enough, for they were so much interested in their conversation that they took no notice of any noise I made."

"And they couldn't see you?"

"I couldn't see them," replied West; "so, of course, they did not see me."

"Go on."

"I did," said West, "and then I thought it was all over, for the next wagon faced in another direction, and I saw what I had not seen before— a lantern was hanging in front over the driver's box, and it sent a dull path of light forward on the ground, and I stopped, for I had to cross that path, and I felt that I must be seen."

"Tut-tut-tut!" clicked Ingleborough.

"But after a few moments I recollected how much my drab brown jacket was like the soil, and I determined to risk it."

"And crawled on?"

"Yes, but not on my hands and knees. I lay flat on my chest and worked myself along upon my hands and toes. It was only about a dozen yards where it was light, but it seemed like a mile."

"Never mind that!" said Ingleborough impatiently. "You did it unheard?"

"Yes; but a man sitting in the wagon suddenly moved when I was half across, and I was about to spring up, thinking that he was searching for his rifle."

"Phew!" whistled Ingleborough softly.

"It was well I did not; for directly after, to save getting up and opening his lantern, the Boer struck a match, and as I lay perfectly still, fully expecting to be shot, the whole place seemed to be lit up, and instead of hearing a rifle cocked I smelt a whiff of strong coarse tobacco, and I felt that I was safe."

"Go on and get it over!" whispered Ingleborough. "You are making my hands feel wet."

"I lay some time before I dared to move."

"That you didn't, for you weren't gone long."

"Well, it seemed an hour to me: and then I crept on and out of the light into the black darkness again, rose to my hands and knees, wondering whether I was going right, and the next minute my hand rubbed softly against a wagon-wheel, and I knew I was right."

"Bravo!" whispered Ingleborough.

"I rose up directly, and began to feel about carefully for the tilt, and once more my heart seemed to rise to my mouth, for from under the wagon there came a dull deep snoring, and I felt it was impossible to do more for fear of being heard."

"But you made a dash for it?"

"No: I waited to get my breath, for I was just as if I had been running. But as soon as I could I went on feeling along the edge of the tilt, and then my heart gave a jump, for my hand touched the barrel of a rifle and directly after that of another."

"Hurrah!" panted out Ingleborough, and West went on.

"I began to draw the first towards me, but, as soon as I did, to my horror the other began to move, and I felt that if I kept on the second one would fall and wake the sleeping Boers. So I reached up with my other hand, got well hold, and drew both together. But it was terrible work, for they would not come readily, because the bandoliers were hanging to them, and as I pulled I fully expected that something would catch and discharge one of the pieces, to alarm the whole laager for certain, even if it did not kill me. But by lifting and easing and turning the rifles over I at last got the two pieces nearly out, when they suddenly seemed to be held fast, and I stood there gradually getting drenched with perspiration."

"Why, the edge of the tilt must have caught them!" said Ingleborough excitedly.

"Yes, that's what I found to be the case, and by turning them over again they came free, and I was standing by the wheel with what we wanted."

"Hah!" sighed Ingleborough.

"But even then I had a chill, for the snoring ceased and the sleeper began to mutter, taking all the strength out of me, till I felt that even if he or they beneath the wagon should rouse up I could escape through the darkness if I was quick."

"So you slung the rifles and bandoliers over your shoulders, went down on your hands and knees, and crept back?"

"No, I did not. I felt that there was not time, and that I had better trust to the darkness to escape, so I just shouldered the pieces and stepped out boldly walking across the broad path of light."

"Good; but you should have struck off to your right, so as to get where it would be more feeble."

"I thought of that," said West quickly; "but I dared not, for fear of missing our wagon. So I walked boldly on, and almost ran against a Boer."

"Tut-tut-tut! Did he stop you?"

"No: he just said: 'Mind where you are coming!' and passed on."

"Well?" said Ingleborough.

"That's all. I marched along to the wagon here and stood the rifles up before venturing to get in, for I fancied that you were talking in your sleep and would bring the sentry upon us. There, I've got the arms, and I don't want such another job as that."

"Pooh! Nonsense, lad! The game has only just begun! You ought to feel encouraged, for you have learned and taught me how easy the rest of our job will be! Just a little cool pluck, and we shall succeed!"

"Very well!" said West. "I'm ready! What next?"

"We must lie down and wait till we hear the commando on the stir, and then—"

"Yes," said West softly; "and then?"

"Let's wait and see!"



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

EVERYTHING COMES TO THE MAN WHO WAITS.

What seemed like a couple of the weariest hours they had ever passed went slowly by, with everything quite still in the laager; and at last West, who was lying on his back, side by side with his companion, whispered: "They're not going on patrol to-night. We must creep out and escape on foot."

"Without knowing the way through the entrance among the rocks, and with dozens of sentries about? Can't be done!"

"Pst!" whispered West, for his quick hearing had detected the approach of someone, and directly after a light was flashed in under the tilt, a little whispering followed after the dull rays were shut off, and once more there was silence.

The pair lay a good five minutes without attempting to move or speak, and then West whispered:

"Two sentries."

"No: one and Fathead."

"How do you know? I daren't look, for fear they should see the gleam of my eyes."

"I could smell him."

"Scented—out here?"

"Yes; I believe he'd put some scent on his handkerchief and some pomatum on his hair even if he were going to be shot."

"Hist! Listen," said West quickly; "they're on the stir."

Ingleborough started up, for a voice was heard giving an order, and it was as if a stick had suddenly been thrust into a beehive and stirred round.

"Right!" said Ingleborough, in a low tone. "Now's our time! Take a long deep breath, and let's make the plunge. It will be all right if you keep close to me!"

West instinctively drew a long breath without thinking of his companion's advice, for it was to him like a reflection of old boyish days when he summoned up his courage to take a plunge into deep water while wanting faith in his powers as a swimmer. But it was only the making of the plunge.

Following Ingleborough, he dropped off the end of the wagon, boldly led him to the rifles, and together in the darkness they slipped on the bandoliers, two each, crossbelt-fashion, slung their rifles behind, put on their broad felt hats well down over their eyes, and then, imitating the Boer's heavy slouching walk, they hurried on through the laager in the direction of the horses.

It was, if possible, darker than ever, and they passed several Boers, quite half of whom were leading horses, and one of them startled and encouraged them by growling out in Dutch: "Now then—look sharp, my lads!"

"We will!" whispered Ingleborough, as soon as they had passed on; "but oh, if the ponies are gone!"

In another minute they knew that they were still safely tethered as they had seen them last, while a little search at the end of the empty wagon brought busy hands in contact with their saddles and bridles.

"Oh, it's mere child's play!" whispered Ingleborough, as they hurried back to the ponies, which recognised their voices and readily yielded to being petted, standing firm while the saddles were clapped on and they were girthed.

"Ready?" said West.

"Yes. Shall we lead them to where the muster is being made?"

"No; let's mount and ride boldly up!" said West.

The next minute they were in the saddle, and, stirred by the natural instinct to join a gathering of their own kind, both ponies neighed and ambled towards the spot where about fifty men were collected, some few mounted, others holding their bridles ready for the order to start.

There was a startler for West, though, just as they were riding towards the gathering patrol, one which communicated itself to Ingleborough, for all at once out of the darkness on their left a voice exclaimed: "Here, Piet, have you moved my rifle?"

"No," came back.

Then after a pause: "Here, what does this mean? Mine's not where I left it! Come, no nonsense! We may want them at any time! You shouldn't play tricks like this; it might mean a man's life!"

The intending fugitives heard no more, their horses hurrying them from the spot, expecting to hear an alarm raised at any moment; but this did not occur.

It was too dark for the recognition of faces, and the men were for the most part sleepy and out of humour at being roused up, so that they were very silent, thinking more of themselves than of their fellows.

There was one trifling episode, though, which was startling for the moment, for West's pony, being skittish after days of inaction, began to make feints of biting its nearest neighbour, with the result that the latter's rider struck at it fiercely and rapped out an angry oath on two in company with an enquiry delivered in a fierce tone as to who the something or another West was that he could not keep his pony still.

Fortunately, and setting aside all necessity for a reply, a hoarse order was given, causing a little confusion, as every dismounted man climbed into his saddle, and the next moment there was a second order to advance, when the leading couple went forward and the rest followed, dropping naturally into pairs, fortunately without West and his companion being separated.

Then began the loud clattering of hoofs upon the stony way, while they wound in and out amongst ponderous blocks of granite and ironstone, trusting to the leading horses, whose riders were warned of danger in the darkness by the sentries stationed here and there.

Before they were half-way clear from the rocks of the kopje, both West and Ingleborough were fully convinced that to have attempted to escape on foot in the darkness must have resulted in failure, while minute by minute their confidence increased in the ultimate result of their ruse, for it was evident that the couple of Boers next to them in front and in rear could have no more idea of who they were than they could gain of their neighbours.

For every man's time was fully taken up in providing for his own and his mount's safety—much more in seeking his own, for the sure-footed ponies were pretty well accustomed to looking after themselves in patches of country such as in their own half-wild state they were accustomed to seek for the sake of the lush growth to be found bordering upon the sources of the streams.

There was not much conversation going on, only the exchange of a few hoarse grunts from time to time, sufficient, however, to encourage the two prisoners to think that they might venture upon an observation or two in Boer-Dutch, both imitating their captors' tones and roughness as far as they could. But they did not venture upon much, and carefully avoided whispers as being likely to excite suspicion.

"Have you any plans as to the next start?" said West.

"Only that we should go off north-west as soon as we are well on the open veldt, and gallop as hard as we can go."

"Which is north-west?"

"Hang me if I have the slightest idea! Have you?"

"No. But it does not matter. Let's get clear away if we can, and shape our course afterwards when the sun rises."

"Capital plan! Anything more?"

"I've been thinking," answered West, "that if we turn off suddenly together the whole troop will go in pursuit at once, and then it will be the race to the swiftest."

"Of course! It always is!"

"Oh no," said West drily; "not always: the most cunning generally wins."

"Very well, then we shall win, for we are more cunning than these dunder-headed Boers."

They rode on in silence after this for a few minutes, gradually feeling that they were on level ground, over which the ponies ambled easily enough; but they could not see thirty yards in any direction.

"Look here," said Ingleborough gruffly: "you've some dodge up your sleeve! What is it?"

"Only this," replied West; "I've been thinking that if we can get a hundred yards' clear start, and then strike off to right or left, we can laugh at pursuit, for they will have lost sight of us and will not know which way to pursue."

"Yes, that's right enough, but how are you going to get your hundred yards' start?"

"I'll tell you how I think it can be done," and, bending over towards his companion, West mumbled out a few words in the darkness and Ingleborough listened and uttered a low grunt as soon as his friend had finished.

Then there was utter silence, broken only by the dull clattering sound of the horses' hoofs upon the soft dusty earth, West listening the while in the black darkness till he heard Ingleborough upon his left make a rustling noise caused by the bringing round and unslinging of his rifle, followed by the loading and then the softly cocking of the piece.

"Ready?" said Ingleborough, at last.

"Yes," was the reply.

"Then one—two—three—and away!" said Ingleborough softly.

At the first word West began to bear upon his horse's rein, drawing its head round to the right, and at the last he drove his heels sharply into the pony's flanks and wrenched its head round so suddenly that the startled little beast made a tremendous bound off towards the open veldt, its sudden action having a stunning and confusing effect upon the line of Boers.

"Hi! stop!" roared Ingleborough directly, shouting in the Boer-Dutch tongue, while as West tore on his companion stood up in his stirrups, fired two shots after him in succession, and then with another shout he set spurs to his pony and dashed off as fast as his mount would go.

The fugitives plunged one after the other into the darkness on the little column's flank, and the burghers saw them for a few moments ere they disappeared and their ponies' hoofs began to sound dull before they recovered from the stupor of astonishment the suddenness of the incident had caused.

Then a voice shouted fiercely: "A deserter! Fire and bring him down!"

"No: stop!" shouted the leader, in a stentorian voice. "Do you want to shoot your faithful brother?"

There was a murmur of agreement at this, and the rustle and rattle of rifles being unslung stopped at once.

"Who is the burgher who followed the traitor?" continued the leader.

There was no reply, only a low muttering of voices as the Boers questioned one another.

"Wait," continued the officer in command. "I daresay our brother has wounded him and will bring him back in a few minutes."

The Boers waited with their little force drawn up in line and facing the black far-stretching veldt, every man wondering which two of their party had been traitor and pursuer, and naturally waited in vain.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

QUERY: FREEDOM?

The dash for liberty had been well carried out, West getting his sturdy pony into a swinging gallop before he had gone far, and keeping it up straight away till he could hear Ingleborough's shout in close pursuit, when he drew rein a little, till in its efforts to rejoin its companion the second pony raced up alongside.

"Bravo, West, lad!" panted Ingleborough, in a low tone that sounded terribly loud in their ears, which magnified everything in their excitement. "It's a pity you are not in the regulars!"

"Why?"

"You'd soon be a general!"

"Rubbish!" said West shortly. "Don't talk or they'll be on us! Can you hear them coming?"

"No; and I don't believe they will come! They'll leave it to me to catch you. I say, I didn't kill you when I fired, did I?"

"No," said West, with a little laugh, "but you made me jump each time! The sensation was rather queer."

"I took aim at an angle of forty-five degrees with the horizon or thereabouts, to be exact," said Ingleborough pedantically; "and those two, my first shots with a Mauser rifle, no doubt have travelled a couple of miles at what they call a high trajectory. But what glorious luck!"

"Yes; I never dared to hope that the plan would succeed so well."

"Talk about humbugging anyone—why, it was splendid!"

"But oughtn't we to go off at right angles now?" said West anxiously, as he turned himself in his saddle and listened.

"Quite time enough to do that when we hear them tearing along in full pursuit, and that will not be to-night."

"Think not?"

"I feel sure of it, lad! Of course they can't hatch it out in their thick skulls that their two prisoners were the actors in this little drama: they can't know till they get back that we have escaped."

"Of course not."

"And you may depend upon it that they'll stand fast for about a quarter of an hour waiting for me to come back, either with my prisoner alive or with his scalp—I mean his rifle, ammunition, and pony."

"And when they find that you don't come back?" said West, laughing to himself.

"Then they'll say that you've taken my scalp and gone on home with it: think it is just the fortune of war, and promise themselves that they'll ride out by daylight to save my body from the Aasvogels and bury it out of sight."

"And by degrees they will put that and that together," said West, "and find that they have been thoroughly tricked."

"Yes, and poor Anson will distil pearly tears from those beautiful eyes of his, and we shall not be there to see them rolling down his fat cheeks. West, lad, I never yet wanted to kill a man."

"Of course not, and you don't now!"

"That's quite correct, lad; but I should like to be a grand inquisitor sitting on Master Anson for his renegade ways and superintending in the torture-chamber. My word, shouldn't he have the question of the water; no, the rack; or better still, the extraction of his nails. Stop a minute: I think hanging from the ceiling by his wrists with a weight attached to his ankles, and a grand finish-off with the question of fire would be more fitting. Bless him for a walking tallow sausage, wouldn't he burn!"

"Ugh! Don't be such a savage!" cried West angrily. "You wouldn't do anything of the kind. I should be far more hard-hearted and cruel than you'd be, for I would have him tied up to the wheel of a wagon and set a Kaffir to flog him with a sjambok on his bare back."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ingleborough sharply.

"What's the matter?"

"And I've come away without having the oily rascal stripped of his plunder."

"What! His diamonds?"

"Yes. I know he has a regular pile hidden in that wagon of his, and, what's more, I know where to look and find them."

"Where?"

"Never you mind till the time comes! I have a sort of prescient idea that some day we shall face that fellow again with the circumstances reversed; and then I'm going to have his loot cleared out."

And this and much more as the fugitives cantered easily along through the darkness, giving their ponies their heads and letting them increase the distance more and more, till all at once West broke the silence by exclaiming: "I say, Ingle, is it really true?"

"Is what really true—that Master Anson's a fat beast?"

"No, no; that we have escaped and are riding away at full liberty to go where we please? It seems to me like a dream, and that in the morning we shall awake and find ourselves once again in that dreary wagon."

"Partly true, partly imaginary," said Ingleborough bluntly.

"What do you mean?" said West, in a startled tone.

"It's true that we've made a jolly clever escape, thanks to you; but it isn't true that we're at liberty to go where we like."

"Why not?" said West wonderingly.

"Because you've got that despatch in your jacket somewhere, I hope."

"Yes," said West, after running his hand down a seam. "It's safe enough!"

"Well, that despatch says we must go to Mafeking; so we're prisoners to duty still."

"Of course!" said West cheerily. "But look here: it's of no use to tire our ponies. We're far enough off now to let them walk, or dismount and let them graze till we know which way to steer."

"It's all right; keep on, lad! We're steering as straight as if we had a compass. I believe the ponies know where we want to go, and took the right line at once."

"Nonsense! You don't believe anything of the kind. What makes you think we're going in the right direction?"

"Because the clouds yonder thinned out a bit half-an-hour ago, and I saw three dim stars in a sort of arch, and continuing the line there was another brighter one just in the place where it ought to be. I know them as well as can be of old: the big one sets just in the north-west."

"Are you sure of that?" cried West eagerly.

"As sure as that I bore off a little to the right as soon as I saw that star, so as to turn more to the north and straight for Mafeking. I don't guarantee that we are keeping straight for it now the stars are shut out; but we shall know as soon as it's day by the compass."

"Why don't we strike a light and examine it now?" said West eagerly.

"Because we haven't a match!" replied Ingleborough. "Didn't our sturdy honest captors take everything away but my knife, which was luckily in my inner belt along with my money?"

"To be sure!" sighed West.

"And if we had matches we dare not strike them for fear of the light being seen by one of the Boer patrols."

"Yes," said West, with another sigh. "I suppose they are everywhere now!"

At that moment the ponies stopped short, spun round, almost unseating their riders, and went off at full speed back along the way they had come; and it was some minutes before they could be checked and soothed and patted back into a walk.

"The country isn't quite civilised yet," said West; "fancy lions being so near the line of a railway. Hark; there he goes again!"

For once more the peculiar barking roar of a lion came from a distance, making the air seem to quiver and the ponies turn restless again and begin to snort with dread.

"Steady, boys, steady!" said Ingleborough soothingly to the two steeds. "Don't you know that we've got a couple of patent foreign rifles, and that they would be more than a match for any lion that ever lived?"

"If we shot straight!" said West banteringly. "There he goes again! How near do you think that fellow is?"

"Quiet, boy!" cried Ingleborough, leaning forward and patting his pony on the neck, with satisfactory results. "How far? It's impossible to say! I've heard performers who called themselves ventriloquists, but their tricks are nothing to the roaring of a lion. It's about the most deceptive sound I know. One time it's like thunder, and another it's like Bottom the Weaver."

"Like what?" cried West.

"The gentleman I named who played lion, and for fear of frightening the ladies said he would roar him as gently as a sucking dove. Now then, what's to be done?"

"I don't know," said West. "We did not calculate upon having lions to act as sentries on behalf of the Boers."

"Let's bear off more to the north and try to outflank the great cat."

Changing their course, they started to make a half-circle of a couple of miles' radius, riding steadily on, but only to have their shivering mounts startled again and again till they were ready to give up in despair.

"We'd better wait till daybreak," said West.

"There's no occasion to," said Ingleborough, "for there it is, coming right behind us, and we're going too much to the west. Bear off, and let's ride on. I don't suppose we shall be troubled any more. What we want now is another kopje—one which hasn't been turned into a trap."

"There's what we want!" said West, half-an-hour later, as one of the many clumps of rock and trees loomed up in the fast lightening front.