“Take it calmly!” whispered back West, “and at a time like this! I can’t!”
“Look here, you two,” said Anson coolly. “Let’s have no more bones about the matter. These gentlemen say they have too much to think about to bother over any shilly-shallying on the part of a couple of prisoners. You know it’s a good chance, and I’ve told them you’ll both join along with me. Just tell them out and out you will.”
“You miserable renegade, how dare you!” cried West fiercely.
“Here, what does that mean?” cried the Boer commandant sharply.
“Shamming!” replied Anson, with a contemptuous laugh. “They’re going to join us, knowing, as they do, that the game is all up at Kimberley; but they put on all this make-believe. They want to be able to say that they were forced to serve, so as to hedge—so as to make it all comfortable with their consciences, as they call them.”
“It is false!” cried West furiously—“a tissue of lies! Don’t believe him; this man is no better than a miserable contemptible thief!”
“What!” shouted Anson, lowering the rifle he carried and taking a step forward with what was intended to be a fierce aspect.
But he only took one step, being checked suddenly by the action of West, who, regardless of the weapon, sprang at him, and would have wrenched away the rifle had he not been seized by a couple of the Boers, who held him fast.
“Pooh! I don’t want to shoot the wretched cad!” said Anson contemptuously. “An old fellow-clerk of mine! He’s savage and jealous of my position here! He always was an ill-tempered brute!”
“But he says that you are a thief!” said the Boer commandant sternly.