CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
BAD FOR ONE: GOOD FOR TWO.
"It's a bad job--a very bad job," said West, with a sigh, as he mounted one of the pair of very excellent ponies that had been provided for the despatch-riders by the gallant chief in command at Mafeking, with the laughing comment that the two brave little animals ought to consider themselves very lucky in being provided with two such masters, who would take them right away from the beleaguered town, where, if they stayed, their fate was bound to be that they would be minced into sausages or boiled down into soup.
They were two beautiful little beasts; but West always sighed and said it was a bad job whenever he mounted, for his heart was sore about the pony he had lost before they entered Mafeking.
"I say, young fellow," said Ingleborough, with one of his grim smiles: "how much longer are you going to stay in mourning ?" "Stay in mourning ?" said West, staring, as he bent forward to pat his mount's back.
"Yes: for those two ponies we lost; because it seems to me very absurd! To begin with, it's downright folly to bemoan the loss of one pony when you have been provided with another equally good; secondly, it is more absurd to bemoan a pony at all; and thirdly, it is the most absurd thing of all to be mourning for one that in all probability is not dead." "Oh, they're both dead enough by this time!" said West bitterly.
"Mine may be, for it was hit; but from the way it reared up and kicked out it had no bones broken, and these Basuto ponies are such hardy little beasts that I daresay it got better; while yours was so good that you may depend upon it some Boer has it nipped tightly between his legs, and is making the most of it." "I hope you are right!" said West.

"And there, I will not mourn for them, as you call it, any more, but make the best of things.

Let's see; this is the sixth day out from Mafeking." "Seventh," said Ingleborough correctively.
"Of course; so it is, but I lose count through being so intent upon the one idea of getting back to Kimberley.

Do you think we shall manage to get through the Boer lines ?" "Think?
Why, we've got to get through them.

We shouldn't be long if we could only ride straight away, and not be always running right on to some fresh party who begin to make game of us directly." "That's rather an ambiguous way of speaking, Ingle," said West, laughing, as he caressed his pony.