"Piet Bok, you are a brick!" cried Harold, enthusiastically; "and since it seems my fate to be a prisoner, I would rather be your prisoner than anyone else's."
"You spared my boy's life, man," was the answer, "and I am not ungrateful. I know Van Zwieten is a bad man, but he is powerful with our Oom Paul. He will make trouble when you are sent to Pretoria." The old man bent forward and whispered, "If I can help you to escape I will. Hush! not a word, my children. I hate Van Zwieten. He is one of those who have ruined our country. Come, now we must go."
Considerably cheered by the friendly spirit displayed by the old man, Brenda and her husband went out on to the verandah. Here they found the Boers--they had buried their dead and had secured the other prisoners--ready to start. The English dead were left unburied, much to Harold's wrath, and he begged Bok to let him and his surviving fellows bury them before leaving. But the permission was refused.
"We must get away; there is not time. Your column will be upon us immediately, I know. Mount, Englishmen. And you, lady--see, we have found a saddle for you. Ah! you cannot say we burghers are not civilised. No!"
There was no help for it. Brenda mounted, and found the saddle comfortable enough. As it afterwards transpired, Van Zwieten had brought it on a spare horse, so sure had he been of capturing Brenda. How he had managed to procure it in the there Boer entrenchments it was impossible to say, but it was, and Brenda on it now, but not--as the Dutchman had no doubt fondly pictured to himself--his captive. With an expression black as thunder he was riding at the head of the troop. Piet Bok remained in the rear between Brenda and her husband. As they left the house, Harold looked in vain for any sign of General Warren's division.
Prisoners they were, and prisoners they seemed likely to remain, with every probability of being sent on to Pretoria, where they would be at the mercy of the intrigues of Van Zwieten once again. But Piet Bok saw the heavy glower of the Dutchman, and had his own views as to the reason for it.
"You expected your column to come up?" he said in a low tone; "so did we. Our spies have kept us correctly informed. But it seems there is some delay in crossing the Tugela."
"Are you disputing the passage?"
"No, we are not. We intend to offer no resistance to your reaching the mountains."
"Why? Surely you should dispute the river passage."