CHAPTER FIVE.
A DASH FOR LIBERTY.
As I have said, one of my reins was unbuckled, passed over the horse's neck, and buckled to the Boer's saddle-bow; and in consequence of the length of the strap, it hung down in a long curve when we were riding a fair distance apart, so I felt I had only to press my horse close alongside that of my companion to slacken the leather strap still further.

My plan was almost a forlorn hope; but I could think of no other, and determined to try it, even if, as would probably be the case, it meant no more than dragging me suddenly from the saddle, to fall and be trampled among the horses' heels.

Still, I was determined, and only waited now for the thrilling moment when I would try.
We rode on for what seemed to me another mile, and still one moment seemed as good as another.

I was ready to despair.

Then the time came.
The Boer at my side, having slung his cocked rifle over his shoulder, fumbled in the darkness for something.