“Oh, what?”
“Why, he was present when we volunteered to carry the despatch!”
“To be sure, so he was!” cried Ingleborough excitedly.
“Then as soon as he knows we have been captured he’ll denounce me to the commandant as the bearer of the message, and oh, Ingle, we shall be searched again!”
“Yes,” was the thoughtful reply; “and you’ve got it on you. We might change jackets, but that would be no good. Could you rip it out of yours?”
“Yes, of course, in a few moments.”
“Then you’d better.”
“Not now; it’s too late. We must wait for a better opportunity.”
“But—”
“No, no, I tell you,” cried West excitedly; “look, he’s not a prisoner. The scoundrel has recognised us and is coming here. Why, Ingleborough, he’s a traitor—a rebel. No wonder he got through the Boer lines. Look! there can be no doubt about it; he has joined their side. Those men, the Boer leaders, the commandants and field-cornets, cannot know that he is a thief.”