"The pony is dead beat, baas," rejoined the Bushman. "We must just leave him to take his chance, and push on. I’ll take the water-bottle, and we must run." So speaking, and taking the water-bottle, they pressed on. They had now come some three miles from the mouth of the kloof where Poeskop had first left the pony. Another nine or ten miles lay between them and the woodland where Mr. Blakeney and Tom lay waiting the result of Poeskop’s expedition of discovery. Guy was a first-rate runner, and had the pace of the Bushman. Poeskop, on the other hand, could go at a steady jog trot during the whole of a long day, and had often compassed fifty miles in a journey of ten or twelve hours. They were encumbered with their rifles and ammunition, and Poeskop carried the water-bottle, all of which tended, of course, to increase their difficulties. As they trotted across the open plain Poeskop looked behind him. "They’re not coming yet," he said. "We must make the most of our start." Away they went, running steadily at a pace of rather better than seven miles an hour, which, under all the circumstances, and seeing that they were moving through longish grass, was excellent going. For a couple of miles they kept this up. "Baas," said Poeskop presently, looking at Guy with a strange, comical expression on his yellow, pinched face, "your legs are too long for me. I can hardly keep up with you." "All right," said Guy cheerfully; "I’ll slacken off a bit." But at that moment Poeskop looked round over his shoulder towards the entrance to the gorge. "They’re coming!" he cried. "I shall run your pace after all. Now we must go till we drop. If I were only a hartebeest and you a springbok! Run, baas, run!" Guy glanced back, and saw four mounted figures just emerging from the dark gorge on to the yellow plain. Broad daylight was upon the veldt. It was evident that their pursuers must have already sighted them. The situation was becoming serious indeed. They ran stoutly on, saying not a word, and directing their course for a clump of bush and low timber which, with two or three other similar patches, rose like islets upon the sea of plain. But their pursuers were now galloping hard, and were getting over the ground just twice as fast as the two footmen toiling along in front of them. Already the hoof-strokes of the galloping horses could be distinguished by the two runners. "Baas," gasped Poeskop, "we shall just reach the timber, and that’s all. We shall want three minutes to get breath and steady ourselves." Well and stoutly as they ran, it seemed as if the last three hundred yards that separated them from the islet of bush never would be accomplished. The haven was reached at last, and the two fugitives plunging in, sank down behind a couple of trees having a low screen of bush in front of them, and prepared for action.