“Certainly, sir; but is it cracked?”
“No, nor yet cracked,” said the doctor, smiling. “You’re suffering from concussion of the brain.”
“And I’ll concuss his brain, sir, if I can only get a chance; but I will do it fair and— Yes, sir, I’ve done, and I’m going to sleep.”
He smiled at us both, and then closed his eyes; while, after a few words with the doctor, Denham picked up the lamp, and we went gently to the other rough curtain.
“It’s just as near to go back this way,” said Denham as I lowered the canvas again, and we passed on, to be confronted directly after by a sentry, who challenged with his levelled bayonet pointed at our breasts; but after giving the word we passed on.
“Seems queer for poor Sam Wren,” said my companion, “changing places like that. Sentry one moment; patient the next. Bah! it is a nuisance that the prisoner should have been able to get away.”
“And go back to the Boers, full of all he has seen here,” I said.
“Well, it will make us all the more careful,” said Denham, still shading the lamp with his hat as we went on, till we had passed where we could hear the movement of the horses tethered to the long lines, with none too much room to stir, poor beasts! Commenting on the condition of our mounts, I remarked that, as the Boers had come in so close, the horses would have but little opportunity for stretching their legs.
“Oh, don’t you be afraid about that; the chief isn’t the man to let the Doppies come close like this without having something to say on his side. You may depend upon it that the moment he feels that the horses are going the wrong way, there’ll be such a dash made as will astonish our friends outside.”
“Well, I shall not be sorry,” I said, “for I don’t like being shut up as we are. Look up. I say, what a lovely starlight night!”