with us, for he would be holding his life by a very thin thread.”
“Exactly,” said the colonel eagerly. “We could let him know that at the slightest suggestion of treachery we should shoot him and his companions without mercy.”
“Make him understand that,” said the major; and while the Boer party stood waiting and watching by the two wagons, which had been drawn into the square, a little council of war was held by the senior officers, in which the pros and cons were discussed.
“It’s a dangerous proceeding,” said the colonel, in conclusion; “but one thing is certain – we cannot hold this place long without food, and it is all-important that it should be held, so we must risk it. Perhaps the fellows are honest after all. If they are not – ”
“Yes,” said the major, giving his chief a meaning look; “if they are not – ”
And the unfinished sentence was mentally taken up by the other officers, both Lennox and Dickenson looking it at one another, so to speak.
Then the colonel turned to the Boer cornet.
“Look here, sir,” he said; “I am a man of few words, but please understand that I mean exactly what I say. You and your companions can stay here upon the condition that you are under military rule. Your duty will be to forage for provisions when required. You will be well treated, and have the same rations as the men; but you will only leave the place when my permission is given, and I warn you that if any of you are guilty of an act that suggests you are playing the spy, it will mean a spy’s fate. You know what I mean?”
“Oh, of course I do,” growled the Boer. “Just as if it was likely! You don’t seem to have a very good opinion of us burghers.”
“You have not given us cause to think well of you,” said the colonel sternly. “Now we understand each other. But of course you will have to work with the men, and now you had better help to unload the wagons.”
The cornet nodded, and turned to his companions, who had been watching anxiously at a little distance; and as soon as they heard the colonel’s verdict they seemed at ease.
A few minutes later the regimental butchers had taken charge of one of the oxen and a couple of sheep, whose fate was soon decided in the shambles, and the men gathered round to cheer at the unwonted sight of the carcasses hung up to cool.
Meanwhile an end of one of the warehouses had been set apart for the new supply of grain, and the Boers worked readily enough with a batch of the soldiers at unloading and storing, with lanterns hung from the rafters to gleam on the bayonets of the appointed guard, the sergeant and his men keeping a strict lookout, in which they were imitated by the younger officers, Lennox and Dickenson waiting, as the latter laughingly said, for the smuggled-in Boers, who of course did not appear.
Lennox made it his business to stand close to the tail-board of one of the wagons, in which another lantern was hung, and with the sergeant he gave every sack a heavy punch as it was dragged to the edge ready for the Boers to shoulder and walk off into the magazine.
Seeing this, the Boer chief, now all smiles and good humour, made for the next sack, untied the tarred string which was tied round the mouth, opened it, and called to the sergeant to stand out of the light.
“I want the officers to see what beautiful corn it is,” he said.
The sergeant reached up into the wagon-tilt to lift down the lantern from where he had hung it to one of the tilt-bows.
“No, no,” cried the Boer; “you needn’t do that, boss. They can see. There,” he cried, thrusting in both hands and scooping as much as he could grasp, and letting the glistening yellow grains fall trickling back in a rivulet again and again. “See that? Hard as shot. Smell it. Fresh. This year’s harvest. I know where there’s enough to feed four or five thousand men.”
“Yes, it looks good,” said Dickenson, helping himself to a handful, and putting a grain into his mouth. “Sweet as a nut, Drew, but as hard as flint. Fine work for the teeth.”
“Yes,” said the Boer, grinning. “You English can’t grind that up with your teeth. Wait till it’s boiled, though, or pounded up and made into mealie. Ha! Make yours skins shine like the Kaffirs’.”
“You don’t want these sacks back, I suppose?” said the sergeant who was superintending. “Because if you do I’d better have them emptied.”
“Oh no, oh no,” said the Boer. “Keep it as it is; it will be cleaner.”
“Why are some of the sacks tied up with white string and some with black?” said Lennox suddenly.
“Came from different farms,” said the Boer, who overheard the remark. “Here, I’ll open that one; it’s smaller corn.”
He signed to one of his fellows to set down the sack he was about to shoulder, and opening it, he went through the same performance again, shovelling up the yellow grain with his hands. “Not quite so good as the other sort,” he said; “it’s smaller, but it yields better in the fields.”
“Humph! I don’t see much difference in it,” said Lennox, taking up a few grains and following his friend’s example.
“No?” said the Boer, chuckling as he scooped up a double handful and tossed it up, to shine like gold in the light. “You are not a farmer, and have not grown thousands of sacks of it. I have.”
He drew the mouth of the sack together again and tied it with its white string, when it too was borne off through the open doorway to follow its predecessors.
“That roof sound?” said the Boer, pointing up at the corrugated iron sheeting.
“Oh yes, that’s all right,” said the sergeant.
“Good,” said the Boer. “Pity to let rain come through on grain like that. Make it swell and shoot.”
The first wagon was emptied and the second begun, the Boers working splendidly till it was nearly emptied; and then the cornet turned to Captain Roby.
“Don’t you want some left out,” he said, “to use at once?”
“Yes,” said the captain; “leave out six, and we’ll hand them over to the bakers and cooks.”
Three of the white-tied and three of the black-tied sacks were selected by the field-cornet, who told his men to shoulder them, and they were borne off at once to the iron-roofed hut which was used as a store. Then the wagons being emptied, they were drawn on one side, and the captain turned to consult Lennox about what hut was to be apportioned to the Boers for quarters.
“Why not make them take to the wagons?” said Dickenson.
“Not a bad notion,” replied Captain Roby; and just at that moment, well buttoned up in their greatcoats – for the night was cold – the colonel and major came round.
“Where are you going to quarter these men, Roby?” said the former.
“Mr Dickenson here, sir, has just suggested that they shall keep to their wagons.”
“Of course,” said the colonel; “couldn’t be better. They’ll be well under observation, major – eh?”
“Yes,” said that officer shortly; and it was announced to the field-cornet that his party
