ha!" laughed Ingleborough; "who's talking metaphorically now?"

"I've done," said West. "Walk!" he cried loudly, and they drew rein, to
let the ponies pick their way up the commencement of a slope dotted with
small stones, while but a short distance farther on the front of the
castle-like kopje was gashed with little gorges and ravines, offering
plenty of places where horses and men might hide.

"Rather awkward if we were to find that there were some more of the
enemy here!" said West, as the nature of the ground forced him to follow
his companion, instead of their riding abreast.

He had hardly spoken when it was as if a trumpet had rung out a
challenge from one of the little gorges in front, and West answered by
shouting: "Right-about face!" and leading the way back. It was no
trumpet, but the loud neigh of a Boer horse, while shot after shot was
fired as they galloped away, fortunately being able to shelter
themselves from the fire by striking off to the right as soon as they
were clear of the stones, the higher ones proving their salvation, being
in the way of the enemy's aim.

"Out of the frying-pan into the fire!" cried Ingleborough; "and the
fire's going to be hotter than the pan."

"Yes," cried West. "Give them their head! Gallop right for the river
now."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A DESPATCH-RIDER'S WORK.

"Hurrah!" cried West, as soon as they were once more well out in the
open, their horses breathed, and ready to answer to any demand made upon
them by their riders. "Keep abreast, and open out more. Faster!
faster! We have only a short start this time."

"But we'll make the best of it," cried Ingleborough, between his teeth.
"Bend down well! The firing has begun!"

"It is speaking for itself," said West grimly, as the buzzing whirr of
the bullets began again, while faintly heard there came, half smothered
by the thudding of their own horses' hoofs, the clattering of Boer
mounts being led out over the stones of the ravine in which they had
been hid.

"See any more of the old party?" cried West, as they rode well out now
on to the level.

"No; we've turned off so much that they are quite in our rear."

"Then the way's clear for the river?"

"If we can reach it, lad," said Ingleborough; "and if we do it may be in
flood, or impassable where we hit it."

"Or a hundred other things," cried West angrily, as they tore along at
full gallop now, with the bullets flying round them.

"Don't begin