a gradual
slope: while just as they reached the spot where the ascent began
Ingleborough turned in his saddle from a long look-out backwards.

"This is like wringing one's own neck," he cried. "Now then, let's
canter up this bit, and as soon as we have topped it we need not be so
cautious. Ready?"

"Yes," cried West.

"Then off! Steady! No galloping; a gentle canter."

It was fortunate for the pair that they did not breathe their horses,
but rode up the gentle slope at a regular lady's canter, to find the
ridge pleasantly fringed with a patch of open woodland, through which
their steeds easily picked their way, and on to the farther slope, which
was more dotted with forest growth; but there was nothing to hinder
their rate of speed--in fact, the horses began to increase the pace as a
broad grassy stretch opened before them.

The moment they passed out of the woodland on to the open space West
uttered a word of warning and pressed his pony's side, for the first
glance showed him that they had come right upon a Boer laager which was
in the course of being broken up. Oxen were being in-spanned, men were
tightening the girths of their ponies, and preparations were in progress
everywhere for an advance in some direction.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

MAN-HUNTING.

Whatsoever this may have been, the sudden appearance of the two fresh
horsemen decided the course of some thirty or forty, who stood about for
a few moments staring wonderingly at the pair flying down the descent,
before mounting in some cases, in others seizing their rifles and
flinging themselves upon the ground to load rapidly and take aim.

"Mind how you go, Noll!" shouted Ingleborough. "A fall means being
taken prisoner now!"

He had hardly shouted the words before the bullets came buzzing about
their ears like bees after disturbers on a hot swarming day in old
England.

"Take care!" cried West excitedly. "It will be a long chase; so don't
press your nag too hard. Lie down on your horse's neck; the bullets are
coming more and more, and we shan't be safe for another mile."

"Bah! It's all nonsense about their marksmanship," cried Ingleborough,
who seemed to be suffering from a peculiar kind of elation in which
there was no feeling of fear. "Let them shoot! We're end on to them,
and have a clear course! They're trained to shoot springbok, I suppose,
when they get a chance; but they haven't had much experience of
galloping men. Fire away, y