“Yes,” said Ingleborough, laughing. “Did you hear what one of the Boers taken said to the officer in command of the prisoners’ guard?”
“No. I did not catch it; but I saw our men laughing. What was it?”
“He said our officers did not fight fair, and when our man asked him what he considered was fair fighting, the scoundrel gave him to understand that we ought to attack them when they were well entrenched in a kopje ready to shoot all our men down.”
“Well,” said West, “what did our officer say?”
“Laughed at him, and told him that if they were so very anxious to fire at targets we would arrange butts for them with a series of mantlets and a good supply of the Bisley Running Deer. But that wasn’t the best of it,” said Ingleborough, laughing; “what do you think the fellow said?”
“I don’t know,” said West, who was watching the evolutions of a couple of the Light Horse Volunteer regiments and as many of the Lancers, for, tired of the plodding life of keeping with the tremendous baggage train for a whole week, the two friends had ridden out in advance over a wide open series of rolling downs covered with dry scrubby growth, parched to greyness by the torrid sun.
Ingleborough laughed heartily for a few moments.
“There they go,” he said, pointing to the leading troop of the Hussar regiment as it disappeared over a ridge about a mile in advance. “Let’s make for that wave-like place.”
“Very well,” said West; “I suppose we shall be safe there!”
“Safe enough, of course, for our men have swept it clear! Forward! How the ponies enjoy a gallop! But I didn’t tell you what the miserable ruffian said.”