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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Why, it's night," I said in a whisper as I looked round in wonder. "Um!" "Where's Sandho?" Joeboy nodded his head; and, looking in the direction indicated, I could just see the shadowy form of my grazing horse, not above eight or ten feet away. "Have I been asleep all this time?" I said, with a strange feeling of shame troubling me. "Um! Plenty sleep," replied Joeboy. "Now ready? Come 'long."
Sandho stirred uneasily and drew a deep breath, which was followed by something strangely resembling a sigh. I knew it was time to move; and, shaking off a sensation of fast-approaching lethargy, I tried to get rid of the feeling of faintness, and only roused the sharp pain afresh.
The firing kept on for a few minutes longer, and then suddenly ceased; while as we proceeded, with Joeboy leading on as fast as Sandho could walk, we could hear voices behind us; men shouting and answering one another, though it was impossible to hear what was said; but it seemed as if they were asking one another what the firing was about, and whether any one had seen the attacking party.
Then suddenly a voice from somewhere above on the right front demanded in Dutch, "Who goes there?" For answer Joeboy stepped on at once, and for the first time Sandho kicked against a stone, one of his shoes not only giving out a sharp clink, but striking a spark of fire.
Seven years on the veldt had taught me well the risks of a horseman, and I knew only too well what would happen if Sandho did not rise in time, or failed to clear some one of the thousands of scattered rocks; or he might plunge his foot in a hole made by some burrowing animal, and come down crippled for life, while I was flung over his head.
Once well started, and my rein free of the man who held it buckled to his saddle-bow, I had no fear at all, for I was sure that in a straight race there was not a Boer amongst them who could overtake me, they being heavy, middle-aged men, while I was young and light, quite at home in the saddle, and Sandho as much at home with me, upon his back. Arms? I could do without them. Reins?
"Then they are there," I muttered as I swung Sandho round again. Joeboy laid his left hand on the saddle, and away we cantered forward to circumvent, if possible, the party in front whose horse had answered Sandho's challenge. The men behind yelled to us to stop. We paid no heed, but, regardless of the stones, cantered on, Joeboy taking them at a stride in company with Sandho's bounds.
"That wouldn't do, Sandho, old boy; so be ready to gallop off when I pull your rein." My horse threw up his head and laid back his ears, beginning to bound off at once; but I checked him. "Not yet, old boy; not yet. When I give the word you must make a half-turn, and we must try and circumvent them if it is them, and not only one. How near dare I go?"
"What do you say to that?" "That the shots echo again from some high hills in front." "Boss Val," cried Joeboy just then, and I touched Sandho with my heels, making him spring on to where the big black was straining his neck to look back, but trudging steadily on all the while. "What is it, Joeboy?" I said anxiously. "Has he moved or spoken?" "Um! Not said a word; but some one shooting over-over."
I made no effort to check Sandho, who was keeping on nearly level ground, but now raised myself upright in the saddle to watch for that which I had forgotten during the time I was in danger, but now that I was comparatively safe seemed to be the very first thing I should seek.
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