"Well," said Denham hurriedly, "it's murder if they do. But I don't
believe they will. Whatever they do, we won't show the white feather,
Val. I say, shall we give 'em the National Anthem?"
"Hush!" I said. "You're a gentleman; don't do anything to insult them;
we're in their power."
"Yes; but I want them to see that we're ready to die game. I say, Val,
we've made a mess of it this time, and we might have been lying
comfortably asleep over yonder."
"No," I said; "we should have lain awake thinking of how to get help for
our friends."
"True, O Calif! so we should.--Ugh! You ugly brutes. Tie our hands
behind our backs, would you?--Here, Mr Irishman, there's no need for
this. We didn't serve you so."
"Oh yes," said Moriarty. "Spies like to get all the news they can, and
then to run away with their load."
"After treacherously trying to murder the sentry on duty, and then
treacherously striking down two people in the dark."
"Hwhat!" cried Moriarty fiercely.
"I mean you, you cowardly hound!--you disgrace to the name of Irishman!"
There was the sound of a smart blow, and Denham staggered back against
the men who were binding his wrists.
A cheer rose from some of the fierce men around us, a murmur of
disapprobation from others, as Denham recovered himself and stood
upright, with his chest expanded and a look of scorn and contempt in his
eyes.
"Yes," he said quietly, "you are a disgrace to a great name. I am a
prisoner, and my hands are tied."
"Silence, spy!" cried Moriarty fiercely, and a dead silence fell.
"I'll not be silent," said Denham. "Val, if we die for it, repeat my
words in Dutch. But if I live I'll kill that man, or he shall kill
me.--Moriarty, you're a treacherous coward and a cur, to strike a
helpless, wounded man."
"A treacherous coward and a cur, to strike a helpless, wounded man," I
said aloud in the Boer tongue, the words seeming to come from something
within me over which I had no power whatever.
Moriarty, white with fury, turned upon me, but one of the two men who
held me interfered, saying bluntly, "Let him talk, Captain; his tongue
will soon be still."
"Yes, yes," said Moriarty, with a forced laugh; "his tongue will soon be
still. Putt them in the impty wagon, and bind their legs too. Then put
four men over them as guards. You'll answer for them, Cornet."
The grim looks of the two speakers and the horrible nature of their
words, which meant a horrible death, ought to have sent a chill through
me; but just then I was so excited, so hot with rage against the
cowardly wretch who had struck my friend, that I did not feel the
slightest fear as to my fate; and, obeying the order to march, I walked
beside Denham with my head as erect as his, till we were by the tail of
a great empty wagon, into which two of the Boers scrambled so as to
seize us by the pinioned arms, causing great pain, as they stooped, and
then dragged us in as if we had been sacks of corn, and then let us
down.
"Look here," said my captor, speaking from the tail-end of the wagon,
"there are four men on duty with rifles, and their orders are to shoot
you both through the head if you try to escape. Now you know."
While he was speaking one of the men who had dragged us in reached out
his hand for a lantern, which he took and hung from a hook in the middle
of the tilt.
Then he and his companion dropped down from the end of the dimly-lit
wagon, and we were alone for a few moments. But the two men who had
left us returned directly with two more reins and set to work binding
our ankles together as tightly as they could.
"There," said one of them, in Dutch, as soon as they had finished, "we
can see you well from outside, and you know what will come if you try to
get away."
Then we were alone again, and as the curtain of stout canvas at the end
ceased to vibrate, Denham as he lay back began to laugh merrily.
"Denham!" I cried.
"I can't help it, old chap," he said. "It's very horrible, but there's
a comic side to it. Blows hit terribly hard."
"Yes, the coward!" I cried passionately, "to strike you like that!"
"I wasn't thinking of that, old chap," he replied. "Yes, that was as
nasty a thing as the savage could do; but I was thinking of how hard you
can hit a sensitive man with your tongue."
"What do you mean?" I said.
"Moriarty! Why, I spoke quite quietly, but if I had given him a cut
across the face from the left shoulder with my sabre, which cuts like a
razor, it wouldn't have hurt the brute half as much."
"Don't--don't talk about the business," I said bitterly.
"Why not? I'm just in the condition that makes my tongue run. But I
say, old chap, we've made a pretty mess of our scheme. Never told a
soul what we were going to do, so we can't get any help."
"And left a hanging rope to show our people that we have run away and
deserted them in their terrible strait."
"Yes; that's about the worst of the whole business, my lad. Well, we
meant well, and it's of no use to cry over spilt milk. I don't think it
will be spilt blood; but it may, and if it does I'm going to die like a
soldier with his face to the enemy, and so are you."
"I'm going to try," I said simply.
"Then you'll do it, like a true-born Englishman," he said cheerily.
"How does that song go? I forget. There, never mind. I won't act like
a sham, even if I am where there's so much Dutch courage. Now, look
here, Val."
"Yes?" I said gravely.
"We're weak from our long sickness, and done up with the exertion of
what we've gone through."
"Yes," I said; "I feel as weak as a rat."
"Then we're going to sleep, so as to be ready to face them in the
morning."
"What!" I said. "Can you sleep at a time like this?"
"My dear old Val, as you said about facing the muzzles of the Dutch
rifles, I'm going to try."