"I suppose not. Well, all's right, and Blackjack is waiting to say good-bye. He wants to start off home."

The Kaffir came up from where he had been patting and caressing the ponies, and stood looking at them as motionless in the ruddy evening light as a great bronze image.

"Olebo go now," he said, turning his shield to show that the remains of his share of the provisions were secured to the handle by a rough net of freshly-plaited gra.s.sy rush. "Olebo see baas, both baas, some day." He accompanied the words with a wistful look at each, and before they could think of what to say in reply he turned himself sharply and ran off at a rapid rate, getting out of sight as quickly as he could by keeping close to the bushes, before striking out into the veldt.

"Humph! I suppose they are treacherous savages, some of them," said Ingleborough thoughtfully; "but there doesn't seem to be much harm in that fellow if he were used well."

"I believe he'd make a very faithful servant," said West sadly. "I'm beginning to be sorry we let him go."

"So am I. We shall feel quite lonely without him. But the despatch."

"Ah, yes, the despatch!" said West, pulling himself together. "Now then, boot and saddle, and a long night's ride!"

"And a good day's rest afterwards! That's the way we must get on."

A quarter of an hour after, they had taken their bearings by compa.s.s and mounted, when the well-refreshed ponies started off at once in a brisk canter, necessitating the drawing of the rein from time to time; and then it was on, on, on at different rates beneath the wonderfully bright stars of a glorious night, during which they pa.s.sed several farms and one good-sized village, which were carefully avoided, for they had enough provisions to last them for another day, and naturally if a halt was to be made to purchase more it would have to be at a seasonable time.

"Yes," said Ingleborough laughingly, "it would be a sure way of getting cartridges if we wanted them and roused up a Boer farmer in the night.

He would soon give us some, the wrong way on."

"Yes," said West, "and there would be the dogs to deal with as well.

Hark at that deep-mouthed brute!"

For just then the cantering of their ponies had been heard by the watch-dog at one of the farms, and it went on baying at them till the sounds grew faint.

Then it was on and on again till a strange feeling of weariness began to oppress them, and they had to fight with the desire which made them bend forward and nod over their ponies' necks, rising up again with a dislocating start.

At the second time of this performance West made a great effort and began watching his companion, to see that he was just as bad. Then the intense desire to sleep began to master the watcher again.

"Hi, Ingle!" he cried. "Rouse up, and let's walk for a mile or two."

"Yes, yes.--What's that?" cried Ingleborough, springing off his pony and c.o.c.king his rifle.

For there was a sudden rushing noise as of a great crowd of animals, of what kind it was still too dark to see; but it was evident that they had come suddenly upon a migratory herd of the graceful-limbed antelopes that had probably been grazing and had been startled into flight.

"Pity it was not light!" said Ingleborough, with a sigh. "We could have got some fresh meat, and then at the first patch of wood and pool of water we could have had a fire and frizzled antelope-steaks."

But a couple of hours later, when they halted for their rest and refreshment, it was stale cake, hard biltong, and cool fresh water.

"Never mind, we're miles nearer Mafeking!" said West. "How many more nights will it take?"

The answer to that question had not been arrived at when they dropped asleep, lulled by the sound of rippling water and the _crop, crop, crop_ made by the grazing ponies, and this time their weariness was so great that sleep overcame them both. Ingleborough was to have watched, but nature was too strong, and both slept till sundown, to rise up full of a feeling of self-reproach.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A LOUD REPORT.

Days of rest and nights of travel succeeded, during which the despatch-riders began to wonder at the ease with which they progressed.

"I thought it would be twice as hard a task!" said West. "Here have we been two days without a sign of a Boer! We must be very near Mafeking now."

"Yes, very," said Ingleborough drily; "nearer than I thought. Halt!"

He drew rein as he spoke, West's pony stopping short at the same time as its companion.

They had been riding steadily on through the night, and now as the ponies stood side by side they stretched out their necks in the soft cool darkness, and the sound of their cropping told that they were amongst gra.s.s.

"Why did you pull up?" said West, in a cautious whisper.

"For you to hear how near we are to Mafeking now."

"Near?"

"Yes; can't you hear the firing?"

"No," said West, after a few moments' pause. "Yes, now I do," he cried eagerly, for all at once there was a dull concussion as if a blow had been delivered in the air.

"A heavy gun," cried West excitedly.

"Hist!"

"I forgot," said West softly. "That must be one of the siege guns," he continued.

"Yes," said Ingleborough, "and it must be near daybreak, with the bombarding beginning. Be careful; perhaps we are nearer the enemy than we thought."

At the end of a couple of minutes there was the dull concussion of another heavy gun, and this was continued at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes during the next hour, while the adventurers advanced cautiously at a walk, keeping a sharp look-out through the transparent darkness for a patch of rocks or woodland which might serve for their next halt. But day had quite dawned before a suitable place of refuge presented itself, in the shape of one of the low kopjes.

"Dismount!" whispered Ingleborough sharply, and they spent the next ten minutes carefully scanning the district round in full expectation of seeing some sign of the enemy.

But nothing worse was in view than two or three of the scattered farms of the open veldt, and in the distance a dark indistinct patch which appeared to be a herd of grazing cattle, but so distant that neither could be sure.

On their way to the patch of rock and brush that was to be their last resting-place before making a dash for the beleaguered town, they struck upon the trail going north and south, and in two places scared off vultures from the carca.s.s of an unfortunate ox, shrunken and dried in the sun till little but the bones and hide were left.

They were too distant to make out the smoke, but steadily increasing fire told plainly enough that they were quite near enough for a dash into the town when darkness set in that night.

"You think then that this will be the best way?" said West, as they reached their shelter without seeing a sign of danger.

"I am not sure yet!" replied Ingleborough. "In fact, I'm very doubtful whether we should not fail, for the place is certain to be surrounded by the enemy, and we should very likely be ridden or shot down."

Oliver West laid his hand upon the despatch, pressing it so that the paper crackled beneath the cloth.

"Then we had better ride in as near as we dare, and then try and creep in at the darkest time."

"Let's pray for the clouds to be thick then!" said Ingleborough; "for the moon's getting past the first quarter. Last night would have done exactly."

"But we were not here. Hark at the firing!"