my had leaped from their horses and were advancing, while twice as
many more, who covered them with their rifles, came slowly on, shouting
to him the Dutch for "Hands up!"

The position was perilous, though the chances were even still about
being taken or riding clear if he went at full gallop; but West did not
stir.

"No, thankye, old fellow," he said. "It would be such dull work riding
alone. What do you say to taking cover amongst the bushes?"

"Bah! Cover for the front, and none for flank or rear!"

"We could squat down back to back," said West coolly, "and shoot a few
of them first. I want to fight the brutes with their own weapons."

"Once more, will you make a bolt of it?" cried Ingleborough faintly.

"No--I--will--not!" said West slowly and distinctly, and then, making a
dash, he caught his comrade round the waist, letting him sink gently
down upon the sand and stones, for his legs had given way and his face
turned ghastly.

"Thanks, old man," said Ingleborough, with a feeble smile and his eyes
looking his gratitude.

He lay still now, with his countenance seeming to grow fixed and hard;
but West opened his water-flask and poured a few drops between the poor
fellow's lips, when he began to revive at once, and lay perfectly still
while his comrade removed his hat and proceeded to bind the ready-folded
handkerchief tightly about the bleeding wound, caused by sharp contact
with a stone when he fell.

"West," groaned Ingleborough, recovering now a little, "once more, lad,
think, think; never mind me! Mount; never mind the firing; ride for
your life!"

"Once more, old fellow," said West, through his teeth, "I won't leave
you in the lurch!"

"But the despatches, lad. I am only one, and they are to save a
thousand."

"Ah!" cried West, springing to his feet as if the object of his journey
had been driven out of his head by the excitement of the moment, and he
took a step towards his horse, just as, to his intense surprise,
Ingleborough's mount suddenly threw up its muzzle, made a plunge, and
found its feet, shook itself violently, and whinnied, as if it had just
recovered from being stunned.

"Here, make one effort," cried West, seizing the steed's bridle and
leading it to where its rider lay.

"Look--your pony's all right again! Can you mount?"

"No," said Ingleborough faintly, as he made an effort to struggle to his
knees, but only fell back with a groan. "Can't! Feel as if my neck's
broke