Chapter Twenty.
How to Escape.
“What’s wrong?” said Ingleborough, in a whisper.
“Look out at the bottom of the wagon,” was West’s reply.
Ingleborough rose to his knees, and at a glance grasped the meaning of his companion’s troubled look.
“Going to adopt our little Basutos for their own use, eh?” he said coolly. “Well, I wonder they haven’t done it before! Bah! There are plenty more horses about! What worries me is how I’m to get a couple of rifles and the ammunition. I was rather too cock-a-hoop about that when I talked to you, for these beloved Dutch cuddle up their pieces as if they loved them with all their hearts.”
West smiled.
“Oh, don’t do that because I said cuddled.”
“I smiled because I see the way to get a couple of rifles as soon as it’s dark,” said West, and he told what he had noted.
“Then there’s no reason for you to look glum. I’ll get a couple of horses somehow if you’ll get the guns. Here, I’d whistle or sing if I were not afraid of taking the sentry’s attention. We’re all right, lad, and that bit of sleep has taken away the miserable pain in my head which I keep on having since my fall. Now then, what are they going to do with those ponies?”