“No,” said Ingleborough, shading his eyes with his hand; “that’s a different patrol, I feel sure, coming from another direction.”
“What shall we do?”
“Ride straight for that kopje; we’re between it and the patrol, and perhaps they won’t see us. If they do we must gallop away.”
“But suppose this kopje proves to be occupied?” said West. “We don’t want to be taken prisoners again.”
“That’s the truest speech you’ve made for twenty-four hours, my lad,” said Ingleborough coolly, “but, all the same, that seems to be the wisest thing to do.”
“Make for the kopje?”
“Yes, for we want water, shelter, and rest.”
“But if the Boers are there too?”
“Hang it, lad, there aren’t enough of the brutes to occupy every kopje in the country; some of them must be left for poor fellows in such a mess as we are.”
“Ride on and chance it then?”