They ran past a couple of small houses, rousing the dogs, who started a chorus of loud yelps, but without disturbing the inmates, apparently.
They were clear of the township now, and with the open country before them, yet by no means out of rifle-range, when a most unlucky accident happened. Cocoeni, by some carelessness or want of knowledge, suddenly let off the loaded rifle with a bang loud enough to wake the dead.
Fortunately he had the rifle on his shoulder and pointing skyward, so that no one was hurt, but the effect meant disaster. It would rouse every Boer who heard it, and raise the tronk-keepers.
“You have done it this time, Cocoeni!” cried Ned. “Now it must be neck or nothing. Forward, boys, with all the wind you can put on.”
There was no time to look behind and see what result that shot had produced. One and all spun over the ground like racers.
“Ping! ping! ping!” came the bullets after them. The burghers had got out of their beds, and were driving away at them from the windows of the two houses. One poor Kaffir flung up his hands and fell on his face. The death of the sentry had already been avenged.
Up the hillside they rushed; they were amongst the stones now, therefore better able to dodge the bullets.
For one instant Ned glanced back, and what he saw quickened his paces. From the tronk gates a body of horsemen were riding out, and spreading out upon the road.
“We’re done for!” he gasped. “They’ll be up to us in five minutes.”
At this instant his ears caught a clattering of hoofs in front of him, and, looking forward, he saw half a dozen horsemen galloping along the road, with three empty saddled horses amongst them.