“I can never thank you sufficiently, Dr Otto,” he said warmly, “and if I ever return to Pretoria I will certainly look you up and claim the skin. It is a trophy which I should be very glad to possess.”
“Very well, then, my dear young fellow,” answered the Boer doctor. “We will consider the matter as settled. Ah, how I wish this conflict was over! My heart is not in it. Peace and equality for all is a maxim I have always considered best for this country. But I am busy. Goodbye! and I trust we shall meet again some day.”
Jack shook hands with him, and then commenced to pack up his few belongings.
“Don’t be down-hearted, Guy,” he exclaimed cheerfully. “This separation is a nuisance, but we are not going to give up our plans. Expect me to-night; I will tap gently at this window and wait underneath it for you. If I fail to get away from this farm to-night, I will find out where you are in the course of a few days, and then you can expect me. Good-bye, old chap, and keep up your pecker! We are going to get out of this cage, and together, too!”
“That we will, Jack,” Guy answered brightly. “Be sure I shall be ready when you come along; but if you find that coming for me spoils your own chances, leave me to get away as best I can and make good your escape.”
“I’m going to get out of Pretoria, and you are coming with me or I won’t go at all!” exclaimed Jack stubbornly, and with more excitement than he was wont to show. “Expect me to-night. It will not be my fault if I fail to turn up.”
Shaking hands with one another, the two young fellows parted, still firm in their intention to escape if possible from Pretoria, but now far more doubtful of success.
A few minutes later Jack was seated in a four-wheeled cart, and was driven through the streets towards the outskirts of the town. As they passed the railway-station a train from Natal had just arrived, and the Boer driver pulled up his horse and chatted with a comrade who was standing near.
On the platform there was an immense crowd, mainly composed of women, and a glance told Jack the reason of their presence. The carriages were all marked with a big red cross, and it was evident that this was an ambulance train, of which the Boers had many, perfectly fitted up. All the doors were open, and ambulance men and bystanders were helping to carry out the wounded.
A sorry, forlorn set of soldiers they looked, but not more sorry or woebegone than the women. Things were different now from what they had been a month before. The Boer forces had not met with that complete and overwhelming success which at first seemed to be in store for them. They had invaded the British colonies so far, and there they had been checked, and there they remained now, waiting till the tide turned, and the British troops, whom all had been taught to think lightly of, rolled their ranks back towards the frontier. And then—what would happen? They had never paused to think of that before. They had cheered their men folk on, and bidden them fight well for their country. But now it was a different matter. A few names only of killed and wounded had been returned, but rumour said that hundreds of others had been suppressed. No wonder, then, that these poor women flocked with tear-stained faces to the station, and clamoured for news of their husbands and sons.