Part 48 (1/2)
”But we shall be challenged by their rear-guard.”
”Perhaps,” said Ingleborough coolly; ”perhaps not. I reckon on getting pretty close up without. If we are challenged, I want you to do as I tell you.”
”Of course,” replied West. ”Anything to fulfil our task!”
”Ready?”
”And waiting!”
”Then mount!”
Their ponies were waiting patiently by their sides, and the next minute they had sprung into the saddles and rode off in the direction taken by the train.
West asked no questions, for he was full of confidence in his long-tried companion, and with the ponies well-refreshed and eager from their rest, they rode steadily on, keeping a sharp look-out for danger, but meeting with no adventure for quite a couple of hours, by which time both felt that they must be getting near to the end of their journey.
But they had nothing to guide them, for they were off the track, and even had they been on, it would have been impossible to follow it in the strange eerie light shed by the quarter-moon. Once they had evidence that they were in all probability going right, for a horrible odour suddenly a.s.sailed their nostrils, making them press their ponies' sides and go past something indistinct at a gallop, holding their breath till they were well beyond what was in all probability the body of some wretched horse or ox that had died of overwork and exhaustion.
”We must keep on now!” whispered Ingleborough. ”I feel that we are going right.”
”But the Boer laagers and outposts!” whispered back West.
”Somewhere ahead, lad; but we must leave something to chance. We are, say, within half-a-dozen miles of Mafeking, so I put it; perhaps not more than two or three. Keep a sharp look-out for lights.”
”The enemy's?”
”Or friends',” replied Ingleborough. ”There's a good deal of chance now, and we must trust a little to our luck.”
”In other words, you mean make a bold dash?”
”Yes, but not a blind one! I want to put a little gumption into what we do! You'll trust me?”
”I will!”
”Forward then, and give the ponies their heads!”
West gave vent to a deep low ”Hah!” of satisfaction, and away they went, with their mounts seeming to exult in the freedom from pressure on their bits, keeping close together, and bounding along over the level veldt as if perfectly familiar with the way, though their riders knew it to be bespread with pitfalls in the shape of the burrows made by the aardvarks and other animals that made the wide open veldt their home.
The moon shone brightly now, though the light was puzzling, and the distance ahead looked strange and weird; but the pace at which they were going had a peculiarly exhilarating effect upon both of the riders, who seemed to share the excitement of their ponies.
For, guesswork though it was, West felt that Mafeking must lie right ahead, and as they dashed on he began to feel a kind of certainty that if left to themselves their sagacious steeds would take them right into the town.
A good four miles must have been pa.s.sed over in this way, and at last a fresh sensation began to attack West, filling him with anxiety lest they should be going in the wrong direction. For he argued that they must before now, if right, have come upon signs of the besiegers, and he was in the act of leaning over towards Ingleborough to make him acquainted with his fears, when all doubt was chased away by a loud challenge from his right, followed by a flash and a report.
That one shot was the opening note of an overture, for directly after the b.a.l.l.s began whistling over their heads, and the first reports grew into a loud rattle followed by the trampling of horses and loud shouting.
”It's all right,” said Ingleborough coolly; ”they're firing at random.
It's impossible to take aim on a night like this! Can you see them?”
”No; only the flashes!” said West excitedly.