So we went on for nearly an hour, with Joeboy leading Sandho in and out among the great blocks of stone which strewed our way, keeping him where the sand was soft by getting well in front, so that the horse's steps were pretty nearly in his own.

I could make out that we were gradually rising, and that the rocks towered up to a great height left and right; but though I rode with every sense upon the strain, I could neither hear nor see sign of the enemy.
Fortunately the night was cloudy, and I knew it would be long before the waning moon rose--not, I hoped, till we had been right through the pass.
In fact, as we went steadily on without interruption, I began to believe the Boer I had seen must have been one of a small outpost placed there for observation during the daylight, and that they must have retired at dusk, while I was asleep; for I thought we must now be pretty well through the highest part of the opening, and had there been any one there I must have heard a challenge.
I was just about to whisper my opinion to Joeboy when he stopped our progress and stood holding the horse's head tightly, showing me something was wrong.

I raised myself in the stirrups to peer forward, but everything in front was nearly black; and though I listened, holding my breath, there was not a sound.

Then suddenly a voice from somewhere above on the right front demanded in Dutch, "Who goes there ?" For answer Joeboy stepped on at once, and for the first time Sandho kicked against a stone, one of his shoes not only giving out a sharp _clink_, but striking a spark of fire.
It was as if that spark of fire struck by iron off stone had ignited the powder in the pan of an old-fashioned gun; for from close at hand there was a flash, the heavy report, and then a rolling volley of echoes.

I felt Sandho bound beneath me; but the next moment he was walking steadily along, following the hand holding his bit, and he paid no more heed when directly after another shot was fired on ahead, another behind, and again another and another, raising what seemed to be a continuous roar of echoes right, left, and in front, to go rolling among the mountains.
The hot blood flew to my face, and a thrill of excitement ran through me as I involuntarily cocked the rifle I held across the saddle, sitting ready to fire at the first enemy who presented himself; in fact, I nearly drew trigger once, but my common-sense prevailed, as I felt that we could not be seen, neither could we be heard in the roar of echoes which took up and magnified the reports.