“What’s the matter?” said Ingleborough.
“Hist! Keep quiet!” replied West. “The Boers are upon us! Look!”
Ingleborough rose cautiously, took a long earnest look through his glass, and put it back.
“Yes, there they are,” he said coolly; “there’s that chap again on the white pony. Good job we didn’t try to ford the river in the darkness. Why, we should have been swept away.”
West glanced for a moment in the direction of the stream, and grasped the truth of his companion’s words, before scanning their position and taking it in at once.
“We can’t get over yonder,” he said quickly.
“No,” replied Ingleborough. “That cuts two ways. Neither can they attack us from that quarter; so our rear is safe.”
“We shall not be able to escape north,” continued West.
“No; we are shut in there.”
“Nor yet south, for they would pick us off easily before we could get through the rough ground to gallop away.”