Guy looked towards the east, which lay nearly in front of them. It was true. Already the sky was paling. Dawn would be upon them in less than half an hour. "Poeskop," he said, without turning in the saddle, "did you kill the Griqua?" "Ja, baas, I did," replied the Bushman. "It was his life or mine. As I crept past him he stirred. I had my hand on his mouth. He struggled, and there was nothing for it but the knife." "I’m sorry, very sorry," said Guy seriously. "You ought not to have done it. I hate the idea of killing a man like that. I wish now you hadn’t come after me!" "Well, baas, it was, as I say, my life or his. If Engelbrecht had caught me in his camp trying to rescue you, I was a dead man. And you yourself--if it suited his plans best, he would have put a bullet through you as soon as looked at you. Besides, Thebus was my enemy. Many a time he has sjamboked me, and drawn blood, when I was in Karl Engelbrecht’s service. He treated me as badly as Karl himself did. I always said I would be even with him, and now I am. Pas op!" he cried, as the horse stumbled in a meerkat hole. The poor beast floundered, tried to save itself, but came down on its head, bringing both riders to the ground. They were up in an instant, and, getting the pony to its feet again, remounted. But, alas! it quickly became apparent that the pony had in some way injured its shoulder in the fall. It went very lame; and the lameness, as they rode on, increased instead of wearing off. Daylight was now rapidly overtaking them. The eastern sky was becoming suffused with wondrous hues of gold and crimson and pale green; long shafts of rosy pink were scattered upwards towards the zenith. Poeskop turned and looked behind him. "Baas," he said, "this is a bad job. They will all be coming after us soon on their horses, and then, with this lame pony, we are done for, unless we can lie up somewhere and defend ourselves. I don’t like it." "How far away are we from Mr. Blakeney and Baas Tom?" asked Guy. "About an hour and a half’s ordinary riding," replied the Bushman; "less than an hour if we could gallop hard. We must get off, and run alongside." They slipped off the pony. Poeskop, who had his own carbine slung at his back, handed Guy a rifle and bandolier. "Why, these are mine!" exclaimed Guy. "How did you get them?" "I found them by the Griqua," responded the Bushman, "and so brought them away with me. Now, baas, hartloup!" Guy took hold of the pony by the bridle, and they trotted along on either side at a good pace. For a little while the pony, relieved of its burden, seemed to move more freely. The improvement was but a fleeting one, however; the lameness grew worse. It became evident to the two runners that their pace was rapidly decreasing. "This will never do," said Guy, looking with dismay at Poeskop. "What’s to be done?"