CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
A REAL ALARM.
Ingleborough drew in his breath with a hiss, and once more stood on his guard with his comrade right in the darkness, and in front of the two ponies, where a good view of the stream outside and the corner rock fringed with ferns could be obtained.
For voices could be heard as of two men talking together, while plash, plash, plash their footsteps in the water echoed for some moments from the rocky sides of the chasm, before they came leisurely into sight round the corner and stood knee-deep looking straight into the cave, little thinking of the peril in which they were, for a couple of rifles covered them, and the slightest pressure upon the triggers would have sent the long thin bullets upon their errand to pierce the Boers through and through.
But no pressure came, those within the cavern seeing clearly enough from the men's careless manner that they felt perfectly safe and were upon no unusual errand.
They were roughly enough clad, and their outer garments showed that they had been slept in for some time and exposed to all kinds of weather; but there was something about their mien, and more in the words they let fall, which showed them to belong to a superior type of Boer.
"Yes, there it is," said one of the two in Boer-Dutch, "just as it was ten years ago when I was here on a hunting trip.

The source is perennial, and beautiful water.

That's why I wanted Dietz to come out of our way." "Does it go in far ?" "About a hundred yards, and there the water suddenly gushes out of the floor; but there are some nasty holes about, plunging down no one knows how deep, and I shouldn't like to venture in without a light." "Why didn't we bring a lantern ?" "Because we don't want to go burrowing into the kopje." "Speak for yourself.

I do!" said the second man.

"Here, I've got plenty of matches--come along." "No, thank you," said the first.