Part 53 (2/2)

There must be fish here. I should like to throw in that pool and forget all about despatch-bearing and guns and rifles and men using lances. It would be a treat!”

”It looks deep and black too in there,” said West. ”Yes, a good day's fis.h.i.+ng in such a peaceful--Ugh! Come away. Let's get back to the camp.”

”Why? What's the matter?” cried Ingleborough, starting up, in the full expectation of seeing a party of the enemy making their way down the farther bank to get a shot at them.

But West was only pointing with averted head down at the deep black pool, and Ingleborough's face contracted as his eyes took in all that had excited West's horror and disgust.

For there, slowly sailing round and round just beneath the surface, were the white faces of some half-dozen Boers, wounded to the death or drowned in their efforts to escape the British cavalry, and washed down from higher up by the swift stream, to go on gliding round and round the pool till a sudden rising of the waters from some storm should give the stream sufficient power to sweep them out.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

THAT BASE COIN.

”Let's see; this will take us round by the hospital wagons,” said Ingleborough. ”I vote we go round the other way, for we don't want any more horrors now!”

They chose a different direction to return to their temporary quarters in the camp, one which took them round by the row upon row of captured wagons and the roughly-made enclosure into which the prisoners had now been herded, and where they were doubly guarded by a strong party of mounted infantry, who had stringent orders to fire at the slightest sign of trying to escape.

”They'll accept their lot now, I expect,” said Ingleborough. ”Who are these with this next lot of wagons? Non-combatants, I suppose!”

”Yes; drivers of the provision wagons and traders,” replied West. ”Why, that's the man we saw going up out of the spruit.”

”Yes,” said Ingleborough, and as he spoke West noted that the man who had been seated at the front of one of the wagons suddenly turned his back and walked round to the other side.

West turned to Ingleborough.

Ingleborough turned to West.

They stood looking enquiringly in each other's eyes for a few moments before the latter said suddenly:

”Which way will you go?”

”Left,” said Ingleborough.

”And I'll go right.”

They started at once, walking towards the wagon that had taken their attention, Ingleborough making for the front where the man had disappeared, and which necessitated pa.s.sing the team of bullocks crouching down to ruminate over the fodder that had been cut for them, while West hurried round by the rear, the young men timing themselves so exactly that they met after seeing a pair of stout legs disappear between the fore and hind wheels of the wagon where the man they sought to face had dived under.

Quick as thought, West and Ingleborough separated and ran back lightly and quickly, this time to come upon the man they sought just as he was getting heavily upon his legs again, evidently in the belief that he had not been recognised.

He was thoroughly roused up to his position, though, by Ingleborough's heavy hand coming down upon his shoulder and hoisting him round to face the pair.

”Hallo, Anson!” cried Ingleborough banteringly; ”this is a pleasant surprise!” while West's eyes flashed as he literally glared in the cowardly scoundrel's face, which underwent a curious change as he glanced from one to the other, his fat heavy features lending themselves to the dissimulation, as he growled out slowly: ”Don't understand.”

”What!” cried Ingleborough, in the same bantering tone; ”don't you know this gentleman--Mr Oliver West?”

”Don't understand!” was the reply, and directly after: ”Goodnight, Englishmen; I'm going to sleep!”

<script>