would be wise,” whispered back Lennox.
“Tchah!” sneered Dickenson. “How could a fellow exist under one of those sacks of corn? Why, they must weigh on to a couple of hundredweight.”
“I don’t care; there’s some dodge, Bob, I’m sure.”
“Artful dodge, of course. Here, let’s see if we know the fellows again.”
“Very well; but be on your guard.”
“Bother! Roby and his men will mind we are not hurt.”
As he spoke Dickenson led the way close up to the roughly-clad Boers about the wagons, where, in spite of the darkness, the face of their leader was easy to make out as he sat pulling away at a big German pipe well-filled with a most atrociously bad tobacco, evidently of home growth and make.
“Hullo, old chap!” said Dickenson heartily; “so you’ve thought better of it?”
The Boer looked at him sharply, and, recognising the speaker, favoured him with a nod.
“Brought us some provender?” continued Dickenson; and he received another nod.
“What have you got?”
The Boer wagged his head sidewise towards the wagons and herds, and went on smoking.
“Well done; that’s better than trying to pot us. But, I say, what about your commando fellows? What will they say when you go back?”
The Boer took his pipe out of his mouth and stuffed a finger into the bowl to thrust down the loose tobacco.
“Nothing,” he said shortly. “Not going back.”
“What!” cried Lennox, joining in after pretty well satisfying himself that there could be no danger in the unarmed Boers and their wagons.
“What’s what?” said the Boer sourly.
“You’re not going back?” cried Dickenson, staring.
“Well, we can’t go back, of course. If we tried they’d shoot us, wouldn’t they?”
The reply seemed to be unanswerable, and Dickenson merely uttered a grunt, just as Captain Roby and his men marched up to form an escort for the little convoy.
“Well, commandant?” he said.
The Boer grunted. “Not commandant,” he said; “field-cornet.”
“Very well, field-cornet; how did you manage to get here?”
“’Cross the veldt,” growled the man.
“Didn’t you see any of your friends?”
“No,” grumbled the Boer. “If we had we shouldn’t be here. Have you got the money for what we’ve got?”
“No.”
“Stop, then. We’re not going on.”
“But you must now. The colonel will give you an order.”
“Paper?” said the Boer sharply.
“Yes.”
“Then we don’t go.”
“Yes, you do, my obstinate friend. It will be an order to an official here, and he’ll pay you a fair price at once – in gold.”
“My price?”
“Oh, that I can’t say,” replied the captain. “But I promise you will be fairly dealt with.”
The Boer put his burning pipe in his pocket, snatched off his battered slouch felt hat, and gave his shaggy head an angry rub, looking round at his companions as if for support, and then staring back at the way they had come, to see lanterns gleaming and the glint of bayonets dimly here and there, plainly showing him that retreat was out of the question. Then, like some bear at bay, he uttered what sounded like a low growl, though in fact it was only a remark to the man nearest to him, a similar growl coming in reply.
“Come, sir, no nonsense,” said the captain sternly. “You have come to sell, I suppose?”
“I shouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,” growled the Boer.
“Then come along. You cannot go back now. I have told you that you will be well treated. Please to recollect that if our colonel chose he could commando everything you have brought for the use of our force; but he prefers to treat all of your people who bring supplies as straightforward traders. Now come along.”
The Boer grunted, glanced back once more, and at last, as if he had thoroughly grasped his position, said a few words to his nearest companions and passed the word to trek, when, in answer to the crack of the huge whip, the bullocks sprang to their places along the trek-tows, the wagons creaked and groaned, and the little convoy was escorted into the market-place, where, as soon as he saw him, the field-cornet made for the colonel’s side and began like one with a grievance.
But the amount of cash to be paid was soon settled, and the Boer’s objections died away. The only difficulty then left was about the Boers’ stay.
“If we go back they’ll shoot us,” he said to the colonel. “We’ve brought you the provisions you asked for, and when you’ve eaten all you’ll want more, and we’ll go and fetch everything; but you must have us here now.”
“My good sir,” said the colonel, to the intense amusement of the officers assembled, who enjoyed seeing their chief, as they termed him, in a corner, “I have enough mouths to feed here; you must go back to the peaceable among your own people.”
“Peaceable? There are none peaceable now. Look here: do you want to send us back to fight against you?” cried the Boer cornet indignantly.
“Certainly not,” said the colonel; “and I would not advise you to, for your own sake.”
“Then what are we to do? We got away with these loads of mealies, but it will be known to-morrow. We can’t go back, and it’s all your doing.”
“Well, I confess that it is hard upon you,” said the colonel; “but, as I have told you, I am not going to take the responsibility of feeding more mouths.”
“But we’ve just brought you plenty.”
“Which will soon be gone,” cried the colonel.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” said the Boer, with a grin full of cunning; “we know where to get plenty more.”
The colonel turned and looked at the major, who returned the look with interest, for these last words opened up plenty of possibilities for disposing of a terrible difficulty in the matter of supplies.
“I don’t much like the idea, major,” he said in a low tone.
“No; couldn’t trust the fellow,” was the reply. “May be a ruse.”
“At the same time it may be simple fact,” continued the colonel. “Of course he would be well aware of the whereabouts of stores, for the enemy always seem to have abundance. But no; it would be too
