Part 24 (1/2)

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

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

”Nonsense! I could not eat now!”

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

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

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

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

”Hurt?” cried West excitedly.

”Rather! Ground is pretty hard!”

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

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

”Likely!” said West, taking out his handkerchief and beginning to fold it bandage fas.h.i.+on. ”Your head's bleeding. Let me tie this round.”

”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 grat.i.tude.