“How far do you think it is to Kimberley?”
“Just as far as it is from Kimberley to here!” replied Ingleborough gruffly.
“Thank you for nothing!” snapped out West. “What’s the good of giving foolish answers?”
“What’s the good of asking foolish questions? Look here, lad, we may as well look the position in the face.”
“Of course.”
“Very well, then; we’ve got a score and a half or so of Boers after us, meaning to take us prisoners or shoot us down.”
“Oh yes, that’s plain enough!”
“Very well! Then as to distance to Kimberley, the General has dodged in and out so to avoid the enemy that, though I know a little about the country, I’m regularly puzzled as to where we are. I think it lies out here, but whether Kimberley is five miles away or a hundred I don’t know. What I do know is that the surest way of getting there is to make right away west for the railway. Once we can hit that—”
“Yes, I see, and if we keep it on our right, riding south, we shall get there.”
“That’s correct, my lad, but recollect this: we left the town invested, and you may depend upon it that the enemy are round it in greater strength than ever, so that how we are to get through their lines when we reach them I don’t know.”