“Olebo go now,” he said, turning his shield to show that the remains of his share of the provisions were secured to the handle by a rough net of freshly-plaited grassy rush. “Olebo see baas, both baas, some day.” He accompanied the words with a wistful look at each, and before they could think of what to say in reply he turned himself sharply and ran off at a rapid rate, getting out of sight as quickly as he could by keeping close to the bushes, before striking out into the veldt.
“Humph! I suppose they are treacherous savages, some of them,” said Ingleborough thoughtfully; “but there doesn’t seem to be much harm in that fellow if he were used well.”
“I believe he’d make a very faithful servant,” said West sadly. “I’m beginning to be sorry we let him go.”
“So am I. We shall feel quite lonely without him. But the despatch.”
“Ah, yes, the despatch!” said West, pulling himself together. “Now then, boot and saddle, and a long night’s ride!”
“And a good day’s rest afterwards! That’s the way we must get on.”
A quarter of an hour after, they had taken their bearings by compass and mounted, when the well-refreshed ponies started off at once in a brisk canter, necessitating the drawing of the rein from time to time; and then it was on, on, on at different rates beneath the wonderfully bright stars of a glorious night, during which they passed several farms and one good-sized village, which were carefully avoided, for they had enough provisions to last them for another day, and naturally if a halt was to be made to purchase more it would have to be at a seasonable time.
“Yes,” said Ingleborough laughingly, “it would be a sure way of getting cartridges if we wanted them and roused up a Boer farmer in the night. He would soon give us some, the wrong way on.”
“Yes,” said West, “and there would be the dogs to deal with as well. Hark at that deep-mouthed brute!”
For just then the cantering of their ponies had been heard by the watch-dog at one of the farms, and it went on baying at them till the sounds grew faint.