A gaunt figure, standing by a horse, attracted his attention, and a voice called out in Dutch, "Who goes there?" The question was followed by an ominous clicking sound. Jack still crawled forward, his right hand now gripping the bowie knife. His strength was almost exhausted, and the pain in his arm increased in severity.
With rare courage and determination, Jack sprang to his feet, plunged the bowie knife into the chest of the bewildered sentry, who immediately fell, at the same time relaxing his grasp of the horse's reins. It took but a moment for Jack to mount, and digging his spurless boots into the sides of the commandeered property, he darted across the veldt.
CHAPTER VII
A WEIRD ADVENTURE
For a couple of miles Jack rode hard across the veldt—not without risk, for several rifle shots rang out, and bullets whizzed perilously near his ears. His escape had evidently been discovered.
When he pulled up his panting steed, he had completely lost his bearings. All that he could do was to wait for the rising of the moon, when he trusted to his knowledge of veldtcraft to guide him to the Kopje Farm.
The horse which he rode was flecked with foam, and the poor brute trembled in every limb.
"Well, I reckon I'm in a fine pickle now," muttered Jack, as he dismounted. Slipping his arm into the horse's bridle, he led the animal towards a small kopje, whose summit was indistinctly lined against the dark sky.
He had an idea that he had seen the kopje before, but was not sure. He would wait a little longer.
The base of the kopje was fringed with a growth of various kinds of bushes, and the fear of tumbling into unseen depressions on the veldt, and prospective chances of broken limbs, made him very cautious.