“Hands up!” shouted their leader loudly. “Who are you—deserters?”
“Deserters!” cried West hoarsely, as he pressed his left hand upon his breast and let his rifle fall to the ground. “Despatch—Kimberley—Water—for Heaven’s sake—help!”
He sank upon his knees, for everything seemed to be swimming round him before he became quite blind.
But he could hear still as he swooned away, and what he heard was a hearty British cheer.
Chapter Thirty.
At the Goal.
“It has more than paid for it all!” said West that night, when they lay down to rest after a wildly-exciting day.
“Yes,” replied Ingleborough, laughing. “I felt quite jealous!”