In order to get well out of the current of possible pursuit, Challis ordered Mogra to bear more to the east. They pushed on steadily for two hours. By this time dawn was approaching. In the half-light they suddenly caught sight of four or five big shapes moving slowly through the morning mist across their path some little distance ahead. At the spot where they had arrived there were no bushes to give cover, and Challis ordered the men in a whisper to fling themselves flat on the ground. There was no cause for alarm, but rather for self-congratulation. In less than a minute they recognised the misty shapes as riderless horses. "What luck!" thought Challis. "Provided their riders are not anywhere near, John," he said, "you and Mogra must catch three of those horses. If I try, they will scent me and bolt. I'll keep guard." The two negroes set off. Challis watched their tactics admiringly. They crept on all fours round to leeward of the horses, which were grazing on low-growing plants, and drew near to them by almost imperceptible degrees. Suddenly they sprang up, dashed forward, and had two halters in their hands. Mogra led the two captured horses to Challis, while John went ahead after the others, which had galloped away. In ten minutes he returned, all smiles and triumph. "Berry fine horse for massa," he cried. "Me tink dis one no good, dat one no good; massa must have bestest; here him are, sah, sure and sartin." It was a fine grey mare, thin fetlocked, slender in the flanks, with a noble head. Challis tried to mount, but the mare bucked and curvetted, with evident dislike of handling by a white man. Challis's difficulties with it amused John, whose horse was perfectly docile. A little patient coaxing and the gift, happily inspired, of a roasted nut from Challis's wallet, reconciled the animal to her new master; and Challis found himself mounted on the best bit of horseflesh he had ever had the luck to bestride. "Now, then, Mogra!" he called. Mogra was bashful. The third horse stood quite still, as if inviting the man to mount; but he had never been on horseback, and stood holding the halter with an air of weighing the chances of getting safely into the saddle. John rocked with laughter, when Mogra, at last plucking up courage, fumbled for the stirrup and almost fell under the horse's belly, still clinging to the halter. "Get down and help him," said Challis, anxious to be off. John dismounted and hoisted Mogra into the saddle by main force. "Him silly chap, sah," he said grinning. "Tumble off, sure 'nuff." But Mogra did not tumble off. Now that he was on, he determined to stick fast. Gripping the animal with his bare knees, wearing an expression compounded of grim determination and the fear of sudden death, he no doubt owed his stability to the placid temperament of his steed. Challis set a slow pace, so that the man might grow accustomed to his unfamiliar position, and the three rode on together.