A Dash from Diamond City Part 35

"Right!" said Ingleborough, in a low tone. "Now's our time! Take a long deep breath, and let's make the plunge. It will be all right if you keep close to me!"

West instinctively drew a long breath without thinking of his companion's advice, for it was to him like a reflection of old boyish days when he summoned up his courage to take a plunge into deep water while wanting faith in his powers as a swimmer. But it was only the making of the plunge.

Following Ingleborough, he dropped off the end of the wagon, boldly led him to the rifles, and together in the darkness they slipped on the bandoliers, two each, crossbelt-fas.h.i.+on, slung their rifles behind, put on their broad felt hats well down over their eyes, and then, imitating the Boer's heavy slouching walk, they hurried on through the laager in the direction of the horses.

It was, if possible, darker than ever, and they pa.s.sed several Boers, quite half of whom were leading horses, and one of them startled and encouraged them by growling out in Dutch: "Now then--look sharp, my lads!"

"We will!" whispered Ingleborough, as soon as they had pa.s.sed on; "but oh, if the ponies are gone!"

In another minute they knew that they were still safely tethered as they had seen them last, while a little search at the end of the empty wagon brought busy hands in contact with their saddles and bridles.

"Oh, it's mere child's play!" whispered Ingleborough, as they hurried back to the ponies, which recognised their voices and readily yielded to being petted, standing firm while the saddles were clapped on and they were girthed.

"Ready?" said West.

"Yes. Shall we lead them to where the muster is being made?"

"No; let's mount and ride boldly up!" said West.

The next minute they were in the saddle, and, stirred by the natural instinct to join a gathering of their own kind, both ponies neighed and ambled towards the spot where about fifty men were collected, some few mounted, others holding their bridles ready for the order to start.

There was a startler for West, though, just as they were riding towards the gathering patrol, one which communicated itself to Ingleborough, for all at once out of the darkness on their left a voice exclaimed: "Here, Piet, have you moved my rifle?"

"No," came back.

Then after a pause: "Here, what does this mean? Mine's not where I left it! Come, no nonsense! We may want them at any time! You shouldn't play tricks like this; it might mean a man's life!"

The intending fugitives heard no more, their horses hurrying them from the spot, expecting to hear an alarm raised at any moment; but this did not occur.

It was too dark for the recognition of faces, and the men were for the most part sleepy and out of humour at being roused up, so that they were very silent, thinking more of themselves than of their fellows.

There was one trifling episode, though, which was startling for the moment, for West's pony, being skittish after days of inaction, began to make feints of biting its nearest neighbour, with the result that the latter's rider struck at it fiercely and rapped out an angry oath on two in company with an enquiry delivered in a fierce tone as to who the something or another West was that he could not keep his pony still.

Fortunately, and setting aside all necessity for a reply, a hoa.r.s.e order was given, causing a little confusion, as every dismounted man climbed into his saddle, and the next moment there was a second order to advance, when the leading couple went forward and the rest followed, dropping naturally into pairs, fortunately without West and his companion being separated.

Then began the loud clattering of hoofs upon the stony way, while they wound in and out amongst ponderous blocks of granite and ironstone, trusting to the leading horses, whose riders were warned of danger in the darkness by the sentries stationed here and there.

Before they were half-way clear from the rocks of the kopje, both West and Ingleborough were fully convinced that to have attempted to escape on foot in the darkness must have resulted in failure, while minute by minute their confidence increased in the ultimate result of their ruse, for it was evident that the couple of Boers next to them in front and in rear could have no more idea of who they were than they could gain of their neighbours.

For every man's time was fully taken up in providing for his own and his mount's safety--much more in seeking his own, for the sure-footed ponies were pretty well accustomed to looking after themselves in patches of country such as in their own half-wild state they were accustomed to seek for the sake of the lush growth to be found bordering upon the sources of the streams.

There was not much conversation going on, only the exchange of a few hoa.r.s.e grunts from time to time, sufficient, however, to encourage the two prisoners to think that they might venture upon an observation or two in Boer-Dutch, both imitating their captors' tones and roughness as far as they could. But they did not venture upon much, and carefully avoided whispers as being likely to excite suspicion.

"Have you any plans as to the next start?" said West.

"Only that we should go off north-west as soon as we are well on the open veldt, and gallop as hard as we can go."

"Which is north-west?"

"Hang me if I have the slightest idea! Have you?"

"No. But it does not matter. Let's get clear away if we can, and shape our course afterwards when the sun rises."

"Capital plan! Anything more?"

"I've been thinking," answered West, "that if we turn off suddenly together the whole troop will go in pursuit at once, and then it will be the race to the swiftest."

"Of course! It always is!"

"Oh no," said West drily; "not always: the most cunning generally wins."

"Very well, then we shall win, for we are more cunning than these dunder-headed Boers."

They rode on in silence after this for a few minutes, gradually feeling that they were on level ground, over which the ponies ambled easily enough; but they could not see thirty yards in any direction.

"Look here," said Ingleborough gruffly: "you've some dodge up your sleeve! What is it?"

"Only this," replied West; "I've been thinking that if we can get a hundred yards' clear start, and then strike off to right or left, we can laugh at pursuit, for they will have lost sight of us and will not know which way to pursue."

"Yes, that's right enough, but how are you going to get your hundred yards' start?"

"I'll tell you how I think it can be done," and, bending over towards his companion, West mumbled out a few words in the darkness and Ingleborough listened and uttered a low grunt as soon as his friend had finished.

Then there was utter silence, broken only by the dull clattering sound of the horses' hoofs upon the soft dusty earth, West listening the while in the black darkness till he heard Ingleborough upon his left make a rustling noise caused by the bringing round and unslinging of his rifle, followed by the loading and then the softly c.o.c.king of the piece.

"Ready?" said Ingleborough, at last.

"Yes," was the reply.

"Then one--two--three--and away!" said Ingleborough softly.

At the first word West began to bear upon his horse's rein, drawing its head round to the right, and at the last he drove his heels sharply into the pony's flanks and wrenched its head round so suddenly that the startled little beast made a tremendous bound off towards the open veldt, its sudden action having a stunning and confusing effect upon the line of Boers.

"Hi! stop!" roared Ingleborough directly, shouting in the Boer-Dutch tongue, while as West tore on his companion stood up in his stirrups, fired two shots after him in succession, and then with another shout he set spurs to his pony and dashed off as fast as his mount would go.

The fugitives plunged one after the other into the darkness on the little column's flank, and the burghers saw them for a few moments ere they disappeared and their ponies' hoofs began to sound dull before they recovered from the stupor of astonishment the suddenness of the incident had caused.

Then a voice shouted fiercely: "A deserter! Fire and bring him down!"

"No: stop!" shouted the leader, in a stentorian voice. "Do you want to shoot your faithful brother?"

There was a murmur of agreement at this, and the rustle and rattle of rifles being unslung stopped at once.

"Who is the burgher who followed the traitor?" continued the leader.

There was no reply, only a low muttering of voices as the Boers questioned one another.

"Wait," continued the officer in command. "I daresay our brother has wounded him and will bring him back in a few minutes."