CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
MAN-HUNTING.
Whatsoever this may have been, the sudden appearance of the two fresh horsemen decided the course of some thirty or forty, who stood about for a few moments staring wonderingly at the pair flying down the descent, before mounting in some cases, in others seizing their rifles and flinging themselves upon the ground to load rapidly and take aim.
"Mind how you go, Noll!" shouted Ingleborough.

"A fall means being taken prisoner now!" He had hardly shouted the words before the bullets came buzzing about their ears like bees after disturbers on a hot swarming day in old England.
"Take care!" cried West excitedly.

"It will be a long chase; so don't press your nag too hard.

Lie down on your horse's neck; the bullets are coming more and more, and we shan't be safe for another mile." "Bah! It's all nonsense about their marksmanship," cried Ingleborough, who seemed to be suffering from a peculiar kind of elation in which there was no feeling of fear.

"Let them shoot! We're end on to them, and have a clear course! They're trained to shoot springbok, I suppose, when they get a chance; but they haven't had much experience of galloping men.