“No: I waited to get my breath, for I was just as if I had been running. But as soon as I could I went on feeling along the edge of the tilt, and then my heart gave a jump, for my hand touched the barrel of a rifle and directly after that of another.”
“Hurrah!” panted out Ingleborough, and West went on.
“I began to draw the first towards me, but, as soon as I did, to my horror the other began to move, and I felt that if I kept on the second one would fall and wake the sleeping Boers. So I reached up with my other hand, got well hold, and drew both together. But it was terrible work, for they would not come readily, because the bandoliers were hanging to them, and as I pulled I fully expected that something would catch and discharge one of the pieces, to alarm the whole laager for certain, even if it did not kill me. But by lifting and easing and turning the rifles over I at last got the two pieces nearly out, when they suddenly seemed to be held fast, and I stood there gradually getting drenched with perspiration.”
“Why, the edge of the tilt must have caught them!” said Ingleborough excitedly.
“Yes, that’s what I found to be the case, and by turning them over again they came free, and I was standing by the wheel with what we wanted.”
“Hah!” sighed Ingleborough.
“But even then I had a chill, for the snoring ceased and the sleeper began to mutter, taking all the strength out of me, till I felt that even if he or they beneath the wagon should rouse up I could escape through the darkness if I was quick.”
“So you slung the rifles and bandoliers over your shoulders, went down on your hands and knees, and crept back?”
“No, I did not. I felt that there was not time, and that I had better trust to the darkness to escape, so I just shouldered the pieces and stepped out boldly walking across the broad path of light.”
“Good; but you should have struck off to your right, so as to get where it would be more feeble.”