They had about fifty yards to go through a cover of bushes and lumps of rugged stone, but before they were half-way there West cried impatiently: “I don’t like it; the Boers must see the horses directly. Let’s mount and make a dash for it.”
“Very well!” replied Ingleborough quietly. “Perhaps it would be best!”
“Then as soon as you are up we must ride towards them till we are clear of these bushes, and then off we go to the right.”
“Good; but it must be sharp work, for of course they will see us the moment we are up!” answered Ingleborough.
“We must risk it, Ingle,” said West. “We never could keep them at bay. Let’s have action: it would be horrible to be lying behind a rock with the sun beating down upon us. Now then, get hold of your rein!”
There was a few moments’ pause while the pair crept alongside of their ponies. Then West drew a deep breath and cried: “Mount!”
As he uttered the word he glanced over his pony’s back at the advancing enemy, and saw that they had caught sight of the two animals, halted, and were in the act of taking aim at them. But neither West nor Ingleborough paused, raising a foot to the stirrup and being in the act of springing up, when the reports of about a dozen rifles rang out, and West’s rein was jerked out of his hand as he was thrown upon his back, while his pony made a series of tremendous bounds, the last of which took it into the river with a plunge of about a dozen feet right into a deep pool. The water splashed on high, glittering in the sunshine, and the next minute the unfortunate beast was floating slowly away towards the swift current, just feebly pawing at the water, and on raising its head it fell again with a heavy splash.
“They can shoot well!” said Ingleborough coolly.
West turned his gaze from the dying pony, irritated beyond measure by his companion’s easy-going coolness, and then saw the full extent of their trouble, for Ingleborough’s pony had sunk upon its knees and then lain gently over upon its side, to die instantly without a struggle, one of the Boers’ bullets having passed right through its brain.
“Might have been worse!” continued Ingleborough. “They did not hit us! Come along, lad! They can’t see us now. Follow me, and let’s creep to the fort. Keep down, lad; keep down.”