The resolve was strengthened by a conversation he overheard between two burghers, soon after darkness fell. Jack's thoughts were passing between the bowie knife, secreted in his boot, and the picketed horses. Among the latter was a beautiful roan, evidently the property of a field-cornet or other officer.
His mind also wandered to the Kopje Farm. He wondered what they were doing, and if Major Salkeld and his men had departed for Springbokfontein. Then he thought of Morton lying bound in the cave in Diamond Valley.
Jack had stretched himself on the mealie sacks when he heard his family name mentioned, and his ears were all attention in a moment.
"Hans," said a voice in a low whisper, "the rooineks will have no chance at all. Johann Klaasen has just come in, and reports that thirty of them are leaving the Kopje Farm for Springbokfontein in the early dawn to-morrow. That is good news, for every man of them will be shot down before they have proceeded two miles on their journey. Half of the commando—one hundred and fifty strong—have left for Langeman's Nek, where there is abundant shelter for our men. These New Zealanders boast about never requiring quarter. They will get none;" and a low chuckle followed.
Jack Lovat's breath came thick and fast. He knew Langeman's Nek very well, and as the speaker hinted, he knew it formed an admirable place of ambush.
The minutes seemed to pass on leaden wings to the British youth so strangely confined in the camp of a savage enemy. Jack's mind was made up. He would use his utmost endeavour to escape from the laager, and if he could not secure the roan mare, make his way on foot to the Kopje Farm, provided no other mount came in his way.
At last complete silence reigned in the laager, and Jack cautiously raised himself on his elbow and peered over the side of the waggon. His sense of hearing was overstrained by his peculiar and dangerous position. He thought he heard the flap of a rifle-strap as if it struck the barrel of a Mauser rifle, and lay quietly down again.
A few minutes later, he again pulled himself up, and without noise clambered over the side of the waggon, then dropped on the ground. His wounded arm caused him much pain, but he set his teeth and bore it bravely. The night was a black one, but his keen eyesight informed him that the picketed horses had been removed from the vicinity of the waggon.
Jack fell on his hands and knees, and crawled forward, cautiously winding his way between the wheels of several waggons.
At last he was clear of the laager, and the ring of pickets only had to be passed. Still on his hands and knees he crept, his heart beating violently, and sharp pains darting through his temples. If only he could get safely through, he would trust to Providence to guide him safely to the Kopje Farm.