Then a voice shouted fiercely: “A deserter! Fire and bring him down!”
“No: stop!” shouted the leader, in a stentorian voice. “Do you want to shoot your faithful brother?”
There was a murmur of agreement at this, and the rustle and rattle of rifles being unslung stopped at once.
“Who is the burgher who followed the traitor?” continued the leader.
There was no reply, only a low muttering of voices as the Boers questioned one another.
“Wait,” continued the officer in command. “I daresay our brother has wounded him and will bring him back in a few minutes.”
The Boers waited with their little force drawn up in line and facing the black far-stretching veldt, every man wondering which two of their party had been traitor and pursuer, and naturally waited in vain.