Part 60 (1/2)

”For heaven's sake don't talk of eating!” cried West. ”Look here: let's creep along through the cover and try and get away.”

”On foot, followed by mounted men? No good; we should be pumped out in less than a couple of hours!”

”Then let's make the brutes pay dearly for what they've done!” cried West angrily. ”Now Ingle, let's prove to them that we can use our rifles too! I'm going to shoot every horse I can.”

”Very well: so am I; and if that does not beat them off I'm going to bring down man after man till the rest of them run for their lives. Got a good place?”

”Yes,” said West, whose rifle-barrel rested in a crack between two stones.

”Then fire away; but don't waste a shot!”

”Trust me!” cried West grimly. ”Now then, fire; and remember the despatch!”

He took careful aim as he spoke, and drew trigger, with the result that one of the Boer ponies stopped short, spun round, flung its rider, and galloped madly away.

The next moment Ingleborough's rifle cracked, and a second pony began to walk on three legs, while the party opened out, galloping so as to form a half-circle about their enemies, the two ends resting on the river bank and forming a radius of about three hundred yards.

”Sixteen more ponies to bring down,” said Ingleborough; ”and those two dismounted men will take cover and begin to stalk us.”

”That's what the whole party will do!” said West bitterly. ”We shall hit no more ponies: they'll get them all into cover, and then come creeping nearer and nearer.”

At that moment Ingleborough fired again right in front where one of the Boers dismounted among some trees.

”There's one more though,” said Ingleborough, for the poor brute he had fired at reared up and then fell, to lie kicking on its flank. ”Try for another yourself, lad!”

Before he had finished speaking West had fired again, and another pony was. .h.i.t, to come tearing towards them, dragging its dismounted rider after it, for the man clung to the reins till he was jerked off his feet and drawn along the ground some fifty yards, when his head came in contact with a stone, and he lay insensible, his pony galloping for another hundred yards and then falling, paralysed in its hindquarters.

And now the Boers' bullets began to rattle about the stones which protected the hidden pair, keeping them lying close and only able to fire now and then; but they got chances which they did not miss of bringing down, killing, or disabling five more of the enemy's ponies, which upon being left alone began to graze, and naturally exposed themselves.

Maddened by their losses and inability to see their foes, the Boers kept reducing the distance, creeping from stone to bush and from bush to stone, rendering the defenders' position minute by minute one of greater peril.

But the danger did not trouble West. It only increased the excitement from which he suffered, and, with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng in his eagerness, he kept on showing the Boers where he lay by firing at every opportunity, religiously keeping his aim for the ponies, in the full belief that before long the Boers would retire.

”It's no good to play that game!” cried Ingleborough suddenly, and he made a quick movement, turning a little to his right and firing.

There was a hoa.r.s.e yell, and a man sprang up not above a hundred yards away, dropped his rifle, and turning round he began to stagger away.

”You are firing at the Boers, Ingle,” cried West excitedly.

”Yes: it was time!” growled Ingleborough, through his teeth, with his voice sounding hoa.r.s.e and strange. ”I've hit three. Two haven't moved.”

”What's the matter?” asked West, in a tone of anxiety, for he felt that something serious had happened to his comrade.

”Don't talk,” growled Ingleborough angrily. ”Look! Those two. Fire!”

Two of the Boers away to West's left front had suddenly sprung up, and bending low were running towards him, evidently making for a patch of bush, out of which a ma.s.s of grey stone peered, not a hundred yards from the young men's shelter. Feeling now that it was life for life, West glanced along the barrel of his rifle, waiting till the Boers had nearly reached their goal, and then, just as the second dashed close behind his leader, West drew trigger, s.h.i.+vering the next moment, for as the smoke rose he saw one of the men lying upon his face and the other crawling back on all-fours.

”Good shot!” said Ingleborough hoa.r.s.ely, and then he uttered a deep groan.

”Ingle, old fellow, what is it?” cried West.