West listened, to hear the rippling trickle of running water.
“A river!” he said excitedly.
“Yes, and it may be the Vaal. If not, it will be one of the streams running into it.”
“And we must keep on this side and follow it down.”
“Well, no,” said Ingleborough, with a little laugh; “seeing that the Boers are after us, I think it will be safer to follow it down from the other side.”
“Very well! What shall we do—get down and wade?”
“I would rather keep dry,” replied Ingleborough. “Let’s wait till the ponies have drunk sufficient, and then try if it is safe enough for them to walk across. I think it will be, for you can hear how shallow it is!”
“Yes,” said West; “close in here; but what is it farther out?”
He stood up in his stirrups and followed the reflection of the stars for some distance.
“It’s a big river, Ingle,” he said, “and it would be madness to try and ford it in the dark.”