Instead of proceeding straight to the High Veld, these enterprising and resourceful young fellows retraced their steps to the vicinity of the Pretoria West Station, where Mr. Naudé knew that the enemy kept a number of magnificent horses for the use of officers only.
With infinite caution they approached the spot, keeping under cover until they were well within rifle-range of the men on guard. The movements of the latter were stealthily watched, and it was observed that the guard, consisting of two men, well armed, walked up and down before the stables in which the horses were kept. Meeting at a certain point, they turned abruptly and retraced their steps in the opposite direction, until they reached the limit of their beat and turned again.
Mr. Naudé's plans were quickly made, and his commands given below his breath.
There was to be no bloodshed, he said. The thing could easily be done without, if his instructions were well carried out.
Two of the men were ordered to level their guns at one of the guard when he had nearly reached the point farthest from his comrade, while the others stormed the stables.
It was the work of a few moments.
The first thing the unfortunate guard knew was that he was looking straight into the barrels of two guns.
Not a word was said on either side.
Those glittering rifles, held by unseen, steady hands, flashed the unspoken challenge, "Give the alarm, and you are a dead man."
The guard stood still as if rooted to the spot.