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 before they could load and fire again.

After that, they troubled him no more.
At last he reached the mouth of the _Poort_, and saw the prettiest of the South African towns, with its red and white houses, its tall clumps of trees, and pink lines of blooming rose hedges lying on the plain before him, all set in the green veldt, made beautiful by the golden light of the afternoon, and he thanked God for the sight.