Part 58 (2/2)
”Well, let's keep on. There's one comfort: the enemy don't seem to be after us.”
”No,” said Ingleborough, after a good look back, and speaking very drily; ”they don't seem to be, but I don't trust them. They mean to run us down; but we'll give them their work first.”
In this spirit the fugitives rode steadily on hour after hour till the evening came, and then there was nothing for it but to look out for some halting-place with cover and feed for the ponies.
”We can't keep on without giving them a rest,” said Ingleborough; ”for we may have to ride all day to-morrow.”
”What?” cried West. ”You surely don't think we're so far off still?”
”I don't know anything, lad,” replied Ingleborough; ”for, as I said before, the country is so big, and it is quite possible that we may have two or three days' journey before us yet.”
”But food--rest?” faltered West.
”My eyes are wandering everywhere in search of food,” replied Ingleborough, ”and I keep on hoping to come upon a farmhouse somewhere in sight. That will mean food, either given, bought, or taken by threatening with our rifles. As to the rest, we'll have that when we get into Kimberley.”
Night fell without a sign of spruit, pool, or farm; but it was a bright, clear time, with the stars giving them sufficient light to keep on in the hope that was growing desperate that they must soon come upon some stream. But they hoped in vain, and the ponies at last began to grow sluggish and indisposed to proceed whenever some patch of bush was reached in the midst of the dried-up expanse.
”There, it's of no use,” said Ingleborough; ”we may as well let the poor brutes browse upon such green shoots as they can find! They'll be all the fresher for the halt. As for us, we must feed upon hope and the remembrance of the good things we have had in the past.”
”Don't let's give up yet!” replied West. ”It is cool travelling, and every mile brings us nearer to safety.”
”Very well; but we shall find it hard work to get the ponies along.”
So they rode on, with their mounts growing more and more sluggish for a while, and then West suddenly uttered an exclamation.
”What is it?” cried Ingleborough. ”Your nag?”
”Yes; he has suddenly begun to step out briskly.”
”So has mine,” said Ingleborough. ”It's all right. Give yours his head--they sniff water. I half fancy I can smell it myself; the air comes so cool and moist.”
Just then one of the ponies snorted, and the pair broke into a canter which lasted for about a quarter of a mile, when they dropped into a walk, for the ground was enc.u.mbered with stones; but almost directly a pleasant refres.h.i.+ng odour of moist greenery saluted the riders'
nostrils, and then the ground was soft and yielding beneath the ponies'
hoofs, then rough and gravelly, and the next minute the riders were gazing down at the reflected stars, which became blurred as the ponies splashed into water and then lowered their muzzles to drink.
”A great pool?” said West.
”No; hark!”
West listened, to hear the rippling trickle of running water.
”A river!” he said excitedly.
”Yes, and it may be the Vaal. If not, it will be one of the streams running into it.”
”And we must keep on this side and follow it down.”
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