On the
other hand, in spite of the low seat and the short crank of a woman's
machine, I could pedal up the slope with more force than Hilda, for I am
a practised hill-climber; so that in both ways we gained, besides having
momentarily disconcerted and checked the enemy. Their ponies were tired,
and they rode them full tilt with savage recklessness, making them
canter up-hill, and so needlessly fatiguing them. The Matabele, indeed,
are unused to horses, and manage them but ill. It is as foot soldiers,
creeping stealthily through bush or long grass, that they are really
formidable. Only one of their mounts was tolerably fresh, the one which
had once already almost overtaken us. As we neared the top of the slope,
Hilda, glancing behind her, exclaimed, with a sudden thrill, "He is
spurting again, Hubert!"
I drew my revolver and held it in my right hand, using my left for
steering. I did not look back; time was far too precious. I set my teeth
hard. "Tell me when he draws near enough for a shot," I said, quietly.
Hilda only nodded. Being mounted on the mare, she could see behind
her more steadily now than I could from the machine; and her eye was
trustworthy.
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