Jack meanwhile had turned to the left and then ridden back, well away from the road, till he was on a level with the cart. Then he turned towards it and pulled up. As he did so a second flash showed Wilfred standing up and using his whip freely, while two mounted Boers were galloping along on either side of the leaders, vainly endeavouring to pull them up. At last, however, finding themselves unsuccessful, and stung to madness by Wilfred’s whip, one of them lifted his rifle and fired at the near leader, bringing the animal to the ground like a stone. The others stopped at once, almost throwing Mrs Hunter and Wilfred out of the cart.
Seeing that there was likely to be trouble, Jack at once reached over and unstrapped his rifle. Then he galloped up to the cart, to find that Mrs Hunter had been roughly dragged on to the road, while the second Boer was hastily lashing Wilfred to the wheel of the cart. What his intentions were was evident, for at that moment he completed the lashing, strode away a few paces, and lifted his rifle to his shoulder.
“Stop that!” shouted Jack, pulling up close to him. “We are refugees and deserve fair treatment!”
In an instant the Boer, who was a fierce young fellow, swung round and fired point-blank at him, the bullet cutting a streak from the brim of his hat.
Jack’s answer was even more rapid. His rifle spoke out, and the Boer dropped prone on the road. Then he swung round just in time to duck and escape a second bullet from the other Boer, and before the latter could load again, Jack’s Mauser pistol had safely reached his hand beneath the mackintosh, and the muzzle of it just showed at the edge in front, directed straight for the man’s head.
“Drop your rifle!” he said sternly. “That’s it! Now take off your cartridge-belt! That will do! Stand over there in the road! Now, Wilfred,” he said, turning to his friend, “as soon as Mrs Hunter has set you loose, back the cart away from the leader and cut the harness. Then drive on, and I will catch you up.”
“Move on up the road in front of me,” he continued, addressing the Boer, “and if you attempt any tricks I’ll put a bullet through you!”
The young Boer evidently understood every word, for with a downcast air he set out along the road in the direction of Johannesburg, with Jack a couple of yards behind him. A mile farther on, when the storm seemed to have reached its height, and the thunder was roaring overhead in long, continuous claps, Jack quietly pulled up, turned on to the veldt, and galloped back, leaving his prisoner still marching on in blissful ignorance.
When he arrived at the scene of the recent conflict he dismounted, picked up both of the Boer rifles and bandoliers, and, mounting again, galloped away into the veldt, where he smashed the butts against a boulder.
“That fellow is safe to return as soon as he finds I have slipped away,” he thought, “and if I left the rifles the chances are he would follow and stalk me. That will settle him at any rate.”