CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
A LOUD REPORT.
Days of rest and nights of travel succeeded, during which the despatch-riders began to wonder at the ease with which they progressed.
"I thought it would be twice as hard a task!" said West.

"Here have we been two days without a sign of a Boer! We must be very near Mafeking now." "Yes, very," said Ingleborough drily; "nearer than I thought.

Halt!" He drew rein as he spoke, West's pony stopping short at the same time as its companion.
They had been riding steadily on through the night, and now as the ponies stood side by side they stretched out their necks in the soft cool darkness, and the sound of their cropping told that they were amongst grass.
"Why did you pull up ?" said West, in a cautious whisper.
"For you to hear how near we are to Mafeking now." "Near ?" "Yes; can't you hear the firing ?" "No," said West, after a few moments' pause.

"Yes, now I do," he cried eagerly, for all at once there was a dull concussion as if a blow had been delivered in the air.
"A heavy gun," cried West excitedly.
"Hist!" "I forgot," said West softly.

"That must be one of the siege guns," he continued.
"Yes," said Ingleborough, "and it must be near daybreak, with the bombarding beginning.