"How soon shall we stop and have breakfast, Joeboy?" I said as we were passing through a perfect chaos of great stones which now hemmed us in front and back. "No fear of seeing any Boers now." The words had hardly left my lips when Sandho stopped short, and uttered a sharp challenging neigh, which was answered from some distance in front; and directly after, as I turned my horse sharply to get under the cover of a huge block we had just passed, there came the loud clattering of hoofs and a shout, as a party of some five-and-twenty well-mounted horsemen cantered out to bar the way. "Then they are there," I muttered as I swung Sandho round again. Joeboy laid his left hand on the saddle, and away we cantered forward to circumvent, if possible, the party in front whose horse had answered Sandho's challenge. The men behind yelled to us to stop. We paid no heed, but, regardless of the stones, cantered on, Joeboy taking them at a stride in company with Sandho's bounds. The next minute I was looking upon fully twenty mounted riflemen right across our path, and a glance right and left showed me that any attempt to get round them would be an act of madness, for no horse could pass. I turned in my saddle and looked back, to find that the party there were closing in upon us; and for a moment I felt ready to turn Sandho and go at them at full gallop, so as to try and cut my way through. I saw, however, this would be a greater risk than going in the other direction. "It's of no use, Joeboy," I said hoarsely; "we're trapped." "Boss Val going to fight?" he said inquiringly, and as he asked his question he fitted his long, elliptical shield well upon his left arm and arranged his assagais handy for throwing. "Two against all those, Joeboy? No; it would be folly." There was no time for more words, for the party which had remained in hiding till we had passed were closing in fast; and then a couple of young men suddenly darted out from those in front, set spurs to their horses, and seemed to race at us, leaping the stones in their way steeplechase fashion. In almost less time than I take to describe it, one of them, a good-looking, frank young fellow in an officer's uniform, rose in his stirrups and made a snatch at my arm; but, in answer to a touch of the heel, Sandho leaped forward, and my would-be captor passed me, riding on several horse-lengths before he could turn and come at me again; while, by a quick leap aside, Joeboy avoided the man who came at him, and stood with his back to a great stone, with his assagai raised to strike. "Surrender, you Dutch scoundrel!" roared my antagonist, drawing his sword, "or I'll cut you down." "Dutch scoundrel yourself, you ugly idiot of a Boer!" I cried as angrily, and I brought my rifle to bear upon him, holding it like a pistol. "Here, don't shoot," cried my adversary. "You don't talk like a Boer." "Why should I?" said I. "But you're not a Dutchman--are you?" "Hardly," he said, with a laugh.