An hour must have passed away, during which neither of the weary bearers
of the despatch moved. Then in a low whisper West spoke.
"Asleep, Ingle?"
"Asleep? No," was whispered back. "I can't close my eyes."
"Neither can I."
"Why not?"
"Over tired and excited, I suppose. All this is so strange too."
"What have you been thinking about?"
"At first I could only think of the despatch and wonder whether we
should get it to Mafeking. Then I began thinking of that black out in
the stable and what he said."
"About his master wanting his pony saddled?" whispered Ingleborough.
"Yes. What did he want his pony saddled for at that time of night?"
"How strange!" said Ingleborough. "That's what kept on bothering me!"
"Ingle."
"Yes."
"Do you think that fellow meant treachery?"
"I don't know; but I'd believe in any treacherous act on the part of a
Boer."
"Would he be likely to ride off somewhere to where there is a commando?"
"For the sake of getting us taken prisoners or shot?"
"Or so as to get possession of our ponies! I saw him examining them as
if he liked them."
"So did I."
There was silence again, and West spoke.
"Ingle," he said, "I can't sleep here; the despatch seems to be sticking
into me to remind me of my duty. We shall rest better in our saddles
than on this wretched bed. What do you say--the free cool air of the
veldt, or this stuffy, paraffiny room?"
"Let's be off, and at once!"
"We will. We can slip out quietly without waking these people, and most
likely we are misjudging the man, who has the regular racial hatred of
the British."
"Perhaps; but we must be careful, for if he heard us going to the shed
and meddling with the horses he'd likely enough begin blazing away at us
with his rifle."
At that moment West clutched his companion's arm, for they heard no
sound, but all at once the dark silhouette of a man's head appeared
framed in the little back window against a background of starry points
which glistened like gold.
Ingleborough's hand stole to his rifle, which he grasped, as both held
their breath; but he did not attempt to raise it, for the head was
thrust inside, and a voice whispered the one word: "Baas."
"Yes," said West softly. "What is it, my lad?"
"My baas take pony and ride away. Go to fetch fighting Boer to shoot
good baas. You and good baas him."
"Ah?" said West.
"Iss. Jack put saddles on Basuto ponies; put bridles on Basuto ponies.
Good baas both come and ride away. Tant' Ann never hear nothing. Sleep
all night."
"And if we go what will your baas do to you when he comes and finds the
ponies gone?" said West.
"Bad baas never see me again! Going home to my country to-night."
"Ah, that's better!" said Ingleborough. "Here, take the two rifles, and
we'll get out here. Jack, my lad, you're a trump, and you shall have
five two-shilling pieces for this, to buy new blankets."
The Kaffir chuckled and clicked with satisfaction as he stood holding
the rifles till Ingleborough slipped out, West pausing to cram the bread
cakes and biltong into their satchels, after which he too slipped out,
and the trio hurried towards the stables.
"How far has your baas to ride to the fighting Boers?" West asked the
Kaffir.
"Long ride," replied the black. "Many Boers yesterday, many Boers other
day, many Boers come in morning with baas."
"Then we're all right for a good start," said Ingleborough. "I say,
West, you're always taking me into some trap: hadn't I better lead?"
"You are leading now," replied West. "How do we know that there are not
a dozen of the enemy in the stable?"
"What! Oh, nonsense! Come along!"
The ponies whinnied as they entered, and the black struck a match and
lit a wagon lantern, showing that they were ready bridled and their
heads tied up to a rail, while examination proved that the saddles were
properly girthed ready for a start.
"Here, stop a minute!" said Ingleborough, as the man began to unfasten
the reins attached to the ponies' heads. "Here, I promised you five
two-shilling pieces," and he counted them out ready in his hand, making
the black's eyes sparkle with delight in the lamplight.
"Stop," said West sharply; "the poor fellow's losing his place, such as
it is, by helping us. I have our expenses money, and I shall give him a
sovereign."
"Well, he deserves it," said Ingleborough, as West pushed back his
companion's hand containing the silver coins with his left, and held out
the sovereign, which looked very bright and new in the yellow light shed
by the lantern.
A sudden change came over the Kaffir's face at once. Instead of the
grinning white teeth and twinkling eyes his lips were drawn tightly over
his teeth, and a scowl contracted his eyes.
"No, no, no," he cried, with child-like petulance, in the Boer-Dutch,
sadly mutilated. "No want one. Say five big shillings."
"What!" cried West. "Why, this is worth twice as much."
"No, no," cried the man angrily. "Want to cheat poor black Kaffir. No,
no; Olebo want to help white baas! White baas want cheat poor black
Zulu!"
"Poor old chap!" said Ingleborough, laughing merrily; "his education has
been sadly neglected. Here, Jack--Olebo, or whatever your name is--take
the sovereign, and you shall have the five two-shillings pieces as
well."
"Eh? No cheat Zulu boy?" cried the man doubtingly.
"No, all right; catch hold. There, now you can buy many blankets, and
may you never be tricked any worse!"
"Hah! Yes; buy lot, take home!" And the white teeth were shown again
as the coins were gripped fast, including the sovereign, which was held
up first to the light. "White shilling? No: yellow farden."
"All right; but take it to an honest man, my lad. Now then, untie those
reins."
The black turned to obey, but stopped short and stood staring away
through the open side of the shed for a few moments, with the light
shining full upon his face, showing his starting eyes, open mouth, and
dilated quivering nostrils.
"What's the matter? Can he hear a lion?" whispered West.
"Here, stop, stop!" cried Ingleborough. "Finish your job!--We've paid
him too well and too soon. He's off to run amok among the brandy and
blanket dealers."
For the black had darted outside, but in the gloom they saw him suddenly
throw himself down and lay one ear to the ground.
"Yes, he can hear a lion," grumbled Ingleborough; "but the ponies
haven't caught it yet."
He had hardly finished speaking before the Kaffir sprang up again and
dashed into the shed, where he reached up and dragged something from the
rafters which proved to be an elephant-hide shield with three assegais
secured to the hand-hold inside.
"Baas hold this!" he said excitedly. "Boer coming. Olebo hear horses!"
Half throwing the weapons to Ingleborough, who caught them, and leaned
them against his side while he examined the charges of his rifle, an
action imitated by West, the Kaffir rapidly unfastened the reins,
setting the ponies' heads free, and then darted at the lantern, opened
the door, and blew out the light.
"Now come 'long," he whispered, and taking the ponies' heads he placed
himself between them and led them along, stopping the next moment to
hold them steady while their riders mounted.
"Olebo run 'long with two baas show the way," he said. "Basuto ponies
tumble over ostrich pens."
"Hah! Good idea!" said West, and, listening now, he fancied he made out
the sound of a troop of horse in the distance; but Ingleborough said he
could hear nothing yet.
Leaving themselves to the guidance of the Kaffir, they found to their
surprise that, instead of striking straight off, he led them to the
house, and then round to the back, where the little window by whose
means he had stolen close to where they lay and given the alarm stood
open.
"Here, take your shield!" said Ingleborough.
"Wait a bit!" replied the black, chuckling.
"Hist! You'll have the old vrouw hear."
"No," said the black confidently; "fast asleep. Wicked old witch!
Throw kettle at Kaffir, hot water burn back! Wait a bit; you see!"
Dependent as they were on the man's guidance through the darkness
amongst the enclosures, the fugitives left him to himself for a few
moments, wondering what he was about to do.
They soon knew, for he stopped the ponies close to the little window,
left their heads, and went close up, to begin fumbling about his spare
garments, whence came the chink of the coins he had just received.
"Matches," he said, and West made out that he took a few from the box he
held in his hand, and then reached in at the window, chuckling softly.
"Ingle," whispered. West, with horror in his voice. "What's the
matter?"
"Do you know what he's doing?"
"Nobbling a couple of the blankets because he isn't going to stay for
his wages?"
"No; I'm sure he has emptied the match-box on the straw mattress, and is
going to burn down the house."
"Nonsense!"
_Crack_! went a match by way of endorsement of West's words, and the
next moment the little flame began to burn inside the Kaffir's hands,
lighting up his exulting countenance as he waited till the splint of
wood was well alight.
"What are you going to do?" said West hoarsely, as he leaned forward and
laid his right hand upon the black's shoulder.
"Don't shake light out!" was the answer. "Olebo going make big fire,
roast Tant' Ann! Big fat witch, soon burn!"
As the Kaffir finished he lowered one hand, leaving the match blazing
brightly, and he was in the act of leaning in to apply it to the little
heap of matches he had placed upon the loose straw mattress, when a
sharp snatch at his shoulder jerked him back, and the burning splint
dropped to the ground.
"Ah-h-ah!" growled the man savagely, and he drew another match across
the box he still held.
"None of that!" growled Ingleborough sternly.
"Wicked old witch!" said the black, in remonstrance. "Burn Olebo!
Don't give him enough to eat! No good!"
"You come along," cried West. "I can hear the Boers coming fast. Now
then, lead the horses clear of the pens!"