de's knee.

"Ah, you're beginning to grasp it!" said Ingleborough. "Then, as I
still have my knife, suppose I cut the reins and we mounted."

"And joined the muster?" said West, in a hoarse whisper.

"It isn't a dragoon troop, with men answering the roll-call and telling
off in fours from the right."

"No, just a crowd!" said West excitedly.

"Exactly! There's only one reason why we shouldn't succeed."

"What's that?"

"We don't look rough and blackguardly enough."

"Oh, Ingle, I quite grasp it now!"

"I've been quite aware of that, old lad, for the last minute--that and
something else. I don't know what will have happened when the war is
over, but at present I don't wear a wooden leg. Oh, my knee! I didn't
think your fingers were made of bone."

"I beg your pardon, old fellow!"

"Don't name it, lad! I'm very glad you have so much energy in you, and
proud of my powers of enduring such a vice-like--or say vicious--grip
without holloaing out. Next time try your strength on Anson! Why, your
fingers would almost go through his fat."

"Ingle, we must try it to-night."

"Or the first opportunity."

"Why didn't you think of that before we lost the despatch?"

"Hah! Why didn't I? Suppose it didn't come!"

West rose and crept to the end of the wagon and looked out.

"The ponies are still there," he whispered, and then he started
violently, for a voice at the other end of the wagon cried: "Hallo, you
two!"

West turned, with his heart sinking, convinced that the man must have
heard.

"I'm just off sentry!" the Boer said good-humouredly. "I must have
shaved that Kaffir somewhere and not hurt him much. As soon as I was
relieved I went and had a good look for him; but there wasn't so much as
a drop of blood."

"Poor wretch!" thought West.

"Lucky for him!" said Ingleborough, in Dutch.

"But I made the beggar drop the jacket," said the Boer, laughing; and,
to the delight of the prisoners, he sent it flying into the wagon.

That was all, and the sentry strode away, just as West bounded upon the
recovered garment like a tiger upon its prey.

"Say bless him!" whispered Ingleborough.

"Oh, Ingle!" groaned his companion, in a choking voice: "I can feel the
despatch quite safe."

"Hah!" ejaculated Ingleborough.

"And such a little while ago I was ready to curse fate and the very hour
I was born!"

"And very wrong of you too, my son!" said Ingleborough, in tones which
betrayed some emotion.