“No; I just escaped! Quick; jump down.”
West was on his feet directly, and Ingleborough grasped his arm.
“I’d say ride for it alone, lad,” he whispered, with his lips close to his companion’s ear; “but my way is safest. Now down on your hands and knees and let’s play wild dog or baboon!”
“I don’t understand you!” whispered West.
“Never mind; do as I do!” and the next minute they were going along on hands and knees over the level ground, feeling it quiver with the trampling of galloping horses all round, while the flashing of rifles and the crackling reports seemed to be coming from all directions.
So near to them came some of the horsemen that West felt certain they must be seen; but there was no hail, no whistling bullet, and, wearisome though the way of progression was to the muscles and painful to hands and knees, West kept on side by side with his companion till the firing began to drop off and then ceased, though the hurrying to and fro of horses still went on.
“It was sooner than I intended,” said Ingleborough at last; “but I meant for us to dismount at last and crawl. If we are seen the enemy will take us for hyaenas or dogs.”
He had hardly whispered these words before a shot was fired from, their left, the bullet whistling over them, when to the astonishment of West, Ingleborough uttered a snarling yelp, followed by an excellent imitation of a dog’s bark.
“Do as I do!” he whispered, and the next moment he had thrown himself upon his side and lay perfectly still.
“What folly!” West was disposed to say; but he followed his companion’s example, letting himself sink sidewise like a dying quadruped, feeling the despatch crackle beneath him as he lay listening to the trampling of horses growing more distant, and waiting for Ingleborough to speak.