“I’m sorry, but one can’t help being suspicious of everything and everybody at a time like this. What do you say about destroying the Commandant’s pass?”
“I’m divided in my opinion.”
“So am I,” said West. “One moment I think it best: the next I am for keeping it in case we fall into the hands of some of our own party. On the whole, I think we had better keep it and hide it. Let’s keep it till we are in danger.”
“Chance it?” said Ingleborough laconically. “Very well; only don’t leave it till it is too late.”
“I’ll mind,” said West, and, as they rode out over the open veldt and into the gloom of the falling night, they kept a sharp look-out till they had to trust more to their ears for notice of danger, taking care to speak only in a whisper, knowing as they did that at any moment they might receive a challenge from the foe.
“What are you doing?” said Ingleborough suddenly, after trying to make out what his companion was doing. “Not going to eat yet, surely?”
“No—only preparing for the time when I must. Look here.”
“Too dark,” said Ingleborough, leaning towards his companion.
“Very well, then, I’ll tell you: I’m making a sandwich.”
“Absurd! What for?”