Chapter Thirty Three.
That Base Coin.
“Let’s see; this will take us round by the hospital wagons,” said Ingleborough. “I vote we go round the other way, for we don’t want any more horrors now!”
They chose a different direction to return to their temporary quarters in the camp, one which took them round by the row upon row of captured wagons and the roughly-made enclosure into which the prisoners had now been herded, and where they were doubly guarded by a strong party of mounted infantry, who had stringent orders to fire at the slightest sign of trying to escape.
“They’ll accept their lot now, I expect,” said Ingleborough. “Who are these with this next lot of wagons? Non-combatants, I suppose!”
“Yes; drivers of the provision wagons and traders,” replied West. “Why, that’s the man we saw going up out of the spruit.”
“Yes,” said Ingleborough, and as he spoke West noted that the man who had been seated at the front of one of the wagons suddenly turned his back and walked round to the other side.
West turned to Ingleborough.
Ingleborough turned to West.
They stood looking enquiringly in each other’s eyes for a few moments before the latter said suddenly: