"Boer coming.

Olebo hear horses!" Half throwing the weapons to Ingleborough, who caught them, and leaned them against his side while he examined the charges of his rifle, an action imitated by West, the Kaffir rapidly unfastened the reins, setting the ponies' heads free, and then darted at the lantern, opened the door, and blew out the light.
"Now come 'long," he whispered, and taking the ponies' heads he placed himself between them and led them along, stopping the next moment to hold them steady while their riders mounted.
"Olebo run 'long with two baas show the way," he said.

"Basuto ponies tumble over ostrich pens." "Hah! Good idea!" said West, and, listening now, he fancied he made out the sound of a troop of horse in the distance; but Ingleborough said he could hear nothing yet.
Leaving themselves to the guidance of the Kaffir, they found to their surprise that, instead of striking straight off, he led them to the house, and then round to the back, where the little window by whose means he had stolen close to where they lay and given the alarm stood open.
"Here, take your shield!" said Ingleborough.
"Wait a bit!" replied the black, chuckling.
"Hist! You'll have the old vrouw hear." "No," said the black confidently; "fast asleep.

Wicked old witch! Throw kettle at Kaffir, hot water burn back! Wait a bit; you see!" Dependent as they were on the man's guidance through the darkness amongst the enclosures, the fugitives left him to himself for a few moments, wondering what he was about to do.
They soon knew, for he stopped the ponies close to the little window, left their heads, and went close up, to begin fumbling about his spare garments, whence came the chink of the coins he had just received.
"Matches," he said, and West made out that he took a few from the box he held in his hand, and then reached in at the window, chuckling softly.
"Ingle," whispered.

West, with horror in his voice.