hen John found that it was
impossible to force the wearied beasts a yard farther. So, having
luckily come to some water about fifteen miles out of Heidelberg, he
halted, and after the horses had drunk, gave them as much forage as they
could eat. One lay down at once, and refused to touch anything--a sure
sign of great exhaustion; a second ate lying down; but the other two
filled themselves in a satisfactory way. Then came a weary wait for the
dawn. Mouti slept a little, but John did not dare to do so. All he could
do was to swallow a little _biltong_ (dried game flesh) and bread, drink
some square-face and water, and then sit down in the cart, his rifle
between his knees, and wait for the light. At last it came, lying on the
eastern sky like a promise, and he once more fed the horses. And now a
new difficulty arose. The animal that would not eat was clearly too weak
to pull, so the harness had to be altered, and the three sound animals
arranged unicorn fashion, while the sick one was fastened to the rear of
the cart. Then they started again.

By eleven o'clock they reached an hotel, or wayside house, known as
Ferguson's, situate about twenty miles from Pretoria. It was empty,
except for a couple of cats and a stray dog. The inhabitants had
evidently fled from the Boers. Here John stabled and fed his horses,
giving them all that remained of the forage; and then, once more,
inspanned for the last stage. The road was dreadful; and he knew that
the country must be full of hostile Boers, but fortunately he met none.
It took him four hours to cover the twenty miles of ground; but it was
not until he reached the _Poort_, or neck running into Pretoria, that he
saw a vestige of a Boer. Then he perceived two mounted men riding along
the top of a precipitous stone-strewn ridge, six hundred yards or so
from him. At first he thought that they were going to descend it, but
presently they changed their minds and got off their horses.

While he was still wondering what this might portend, he saw a puff of
white smoke float up from where the men were, and then another. Next
came the sharp unmistakable "ping" of a bullet passing, as far as he
could judge, within some three feet of his head, followed by a second
"ping," and a cloud of dust beneath the belly of the first horse. The
two Boers were firing at him.

John did not wait for any more target practice, but, thrashing the
horses to a canter, drove the cart round a projecting bank b