Guessing what my companion was about to do, with a slight pressure of my right leg I made Sandho edge gradually closer.

I was quite right.

He took out a big Dutch pipe and a pouch, proceeding to fill the bowl and press down the tobacco; and as he worked so did I.

Edging Sandho nearer and nearer, with my heart beginning to beat with big, heavy throbs, I withdrew my left foot from the stirrup, lowered it down in front of the loosely-hanging rein, and, as soon as that was level with my ankle, twisted my foot again and again, till the rein was three times round.

Then I felt the drag upon the Boer's saddle-bow, just as the man was getting a light; and at that moment my leg came in contact with his so suddenly that it jerked him, and the match he had struck went out.
"Thunder and lightning!" he growled, kicking out to drive Sandho farther away, but missing him, for I had just thrust my toe back into the stirrup-iron and was pressing my horse away.
The next minute scratch went another match, the bright light shining out for a moment between us so that I could see the man's face plainly as he held the burning splint between his hands on a level with his chin.
Then it was out again, for with a loud, shrill cry I was urging Sandho to make his great effort--one which, as I have said, meant either freedom--if the escape of one bound as I was could be so regarded--or the horse galloping away and leaving me to be trampled under foot.
"_Ri_--_ri_--_ri_--_ri_--_ri_--_ri_!" I half-shrieked, and Sandho made a tremendous bound.