CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
HARD PUSHED.
Ingleborough shaded his eyes and turned very grave, for on gazing in the direction pointed out by his companion's finger he saw a column of horsemen creeping over the veldt as if coming straight for their resting-place, while as they came nearer the eager watchers could make out that the party were guarding a long train of wagons drawn by great teams of oxen.

They found that there were two other teams, not of oxen, but of ponies similar to their own, and not dragging the great tilt-covered wagons, but something heavy and comparatively small.
"Guns!" said Ingleborough laconically.
"Yes, and heavy guns too!" cried West.
"You're right, lad; and they will not come near us.

It's an ammunition train, and they'll go straight for Mafeking! That's another false alarm!" Ingleborough was quite right, for the distant train crept slowly on along the track till it grew dim and distant as the sun sank lower and finally disappeared in the haze of dust.

But the troubles of the despatch-bearers were not at an end, and they lay watching the west with its great masses of lit-up clouds, glorious in their colouring, till the last bright lights had died out, before they turned to look in the direction of the east.

And then West drew his companion's attention to the fact that behind them the sky was perfectly clear, and the pale moon, a couple of days past the first quarter, was gradually growing brighter and brighter in what promised to be a perfectly unclouded night.
"Yes," said Ingleborough coolly; "we shall have a glorious time for our ride." "A glorious night for the Boer outposts to take aim at us as we ride in." "No," said Ingleborough coolly.