Part 15 (1/2)
”Chance it?” said Ingleborough laconically. ”Very well; only don't leave it till it is too late.”
”I'll mind,” said West, and, as they rode out over the open veldt and into the gloom of the falling night, they kept a sharp look-out till they had to trust more to their ears for notice of danger, taking care to speak only in a whisper, knowing as they did that at any moment they might receive a challenge from the foe.
”What are you doing?” said Ingleborough suddenly, after trying to make out what his companion was doing. ”Not going to eat yet, surely?”
”No--only preparing for the time when I must. Look here.”
”Too dark,” said Ingleborough, leaning towards his companion.
”Very well, then, I'll tell you: I'm making a sandwich.”
”Absurd! What for?”
”I'll tell you. You can't see, but this is what I'm doing. I've two slices of bread here, and I'm putting between them something that is not good food for Boers. That's it. I've doubled the pa.s.s in half, and stuck it between two slices. If we have the bad luck to be taken prisoners I shall be very hungry, and begin eating the sandwich and the pa.s.s. I don't suppose it will do me any harm.”
”Capital idea,” said Ingleborough, laughing.
”That's done,” said West, replacing his paper sandwich in his haversack, and a few minutes later, as they still rode slowly on, Ingleborough spoke again.
”What now?” he said.
”Making another sandwich,” was the reply.
”Another?”
”Yes, of the Mafeking despatch.”
”Ah, of course; but you will not eat that?”
”Only in the last extremity.”
”Good,” said Ingleborough, ”and I hope we shall have no last extremes.”
He had hardly spoken when a sharp challenge in Boer-Dutch rang out, apparently from about fifty yards to their left, and, as if in obedience to the demand, the two Basuto ponies the young men rode stopped suddenly.
Ingleborough leaned down sidewise and placed his lips close to his companion's ear.
”Which is it to be?” he said. ”One is as easy as the other--forward or back?”
”One's as safe as the other,” replied West, under his breath.
”Forward.”
They were in the act of pressing their horses' sides to urge them on when there was a flash of light from the position of the man who had uttered the challenge, and almost immediately the humming, buzzing sound as of a large beetle whizzing by them in its nocturnal flight, and at the same moment there was the sharp crack of a rifle.
CHAPTER TEN.
ANSON'S BLESSING.
”Bless 'em!” said Anson to himself that same evening, ”I don't wish 'em any harm. I only hope that before they've gone far the Boers will challenge them.
”I can almost see it now: getting dark, and an outpost challenges.