For the black had darted outside, but in the gloom they saw him suddenly throw himself down and lay one ear to the ground.
“Yes, he can hear a lion,” grumbled Ingleborough; “but the ponies haven’t caught it yet.”
He had hardly finished speaking before the Kaffir sprang up again and dashed into the shed, where he reached up and dragged something from the rafters which proved to be an elephant-hide shield with three assegais secured to the hand-hold inside.
“Baas hold this!” he said excitedly. “Boer coming. Olebo hear horses!”
Half throwing the weapons to Ingleborough, who caught them, and leaned them against his side while he examined the charges of his rifle, an action imitated by West, the Kaffir rapidly unfastened the reins, setting the ponies’ heads free, and then darted at the lantern, opened the door, and blew out the light.
“Now come ’long,” he whispered, and taking the ponies’ heads he placed himself between them and led them along, stopping the next moment to hold them steady while their riders mounted.
“Olebo run ’long with two baas show the way,” he said. “Basuto ponies tumble over ostrich pens.”
“Hah! Good idea!” said West, and, listening now, he fancied he made out the sound of a troop of horse in the distance; but Ingleborough said he could hear nothing yet.
Leaving themselves to the guidance of the Kaffir, they found to their surprise that, instead of striking straight off, he led them to the house, and then round to the back, where the little window by whose means he had stolen close to where they lay and given the alarm stood open.
“Here, take your shield!” said Ingleborough.