Three hours later it was quite dark, and, flinging his haversack over his shoulder, and carefully feeling beneath his coat to make sure that his Mauser was still there,—for by a wonderful chance it had escaped notice when his wound was first dressed,—he crept across to the window and opened it noiselessly. It was placed high up in the wall, so that Jack put a wooden stool beneath it, and, mounting on this, was on the point of hoisting himself up, when, to his horror and dismay, the door was thrown open, and a man entered bearing a candle in his hand.
A second later he had grasped Jack firmly by the collar and had flashed the light in his face.
It was a terrible misfortune, and Jack could almost have cried. But, for the moment, his attention was otherwise occupied, for as the rays from the candle fell upon the stalwart Boer, he recognised, with a curious feeling of pleasure and hope, that it was the very man whom he had handed over to his friends near Vryburg, after wounding him in the chest.
The recognition was mutual, and the Boer, who a moment before was in the act of calling for assistance, shut his lips and stared at Jack as though he were too much surprised to speak. Then he burst into silent laughter and dragged Jack to the bed.
To resist was useless, and like a wise man Jack at once resigned himself to his fate.
“So, Englishman,” the big Boer at length exclaimed, when both were seated, “you were about to bid us goodbye! Surely we have not treated you so badly.”
“I have had the kindest attention,” answered Jack, “but, remember, liberty is dear to every man.”
“It is so. Liberty is our birthright, and that is why we fight,” the Boer answered solemnly. Then he remained silent for several minutes and looked earnestly at Jack. “Why did you not throw me off and make good your escape?” he asked, with the suspicion of a smile upon his face. “I am weak still from the wound you gave me, and for that reason am in hospital here. You could have beaten out my brains with that stool.”
“Yes; I might have done that,” Jack answered thoughtfully, “but it would not have helped me. The guard outside would have been roused, and I should have been taken. Well, it is rough luck, and to-morrow I suppose I shall be sent off to the race-course.”
“Perhaps, Englishman, perhaps!” the Boer answered slowly, and then lapsed into silence again, and became buried in deep thought.