Part 35 (2/2)

”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 c.o.c.king 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.”

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