nearly midnight
Grim and black indeed did old Umslopogaas look beside me , mounted upon the great white horse , like Death in the Revelation of St John , as now and again lifting his fierce set face he gazed out along the road , and pointed with his axe towards some distant rise or house . And so on , still on , without break or pause for hour after hour . At last I felt that even the splendid animal that I rode was beginning to give out . I looked at my watch ; it was nearly midnight , and we were considerably more than half way . On the top of a rise was a little spring , which I remembered because I had slept by it a few nights before , and here I motioned to Umslopogaas to pull up , having determined to give the horses and ourselves ten minutes to breathe in . He did so , and we dismounted -- that is to say , Umslopogaas did , and then helped me off , for what with fatigue , stiffness , and the pain of my wound , I could not do so for myself ; and then the gallant horses stood panting there , resting first one leg and then another , while the sweat fell drip , drip , from them , and the steam rose and hung in pale clouds in the still night air . Leaving Umslopogaas to hold the horses , I hobbled to the spring and drank deep of its sweet waters .