“If,” said Ingleborough.
“If they don’t stop when they find us likely to go through the horns of the dilemma they have prepared for us.”
“And lie down and begin shooting?”
“Exactly! Their bullets will go faster than our ponies!”
“Yes, but we shall put them at full speed, and they will find it hard to hit us at a gallop.”
“I hope so!” said Ingleborough. “My word! How they are coming on!”
“Yes; but they will not get within five hundred yards of us!” cried West excitedly.
And so it proved, for as the horns of the partly-finished circle drew nearer, that nearness proved to be nearly a thousand yards from point to point, while half-way between, and with their ponies racing over the ground stretched out like greyhounds, the two despatch-riders dashed through, forcing the enemy to alter their course as they were left behind.
“That’s done it!” cried West joyously. “Now then for Kimberley; it can’t be very far away!”
“Sit close!” cried Ingleborough. “They’ll fire now if they can do so without hitting their friends.”