“What is he, then?” said Moriarty, holding up his hand in the light of the lantern he kept aloft, so as to secure silence.
“An officer and a gentleman of the Light Horse.”
“Indade!” said Moriarty sneeringly. “Then you have both had enough of the British forces, and have desarted to ours?”
“No,” I said coolly. “We have both been badly wounded, as you can see, and we wanted to break through the lines and get away.”
“What for?” said Moriarty fiercely. “What for?”
“We are too weak to fight,” I said.
“Bah!” roared Moriarty, “you are both spies; and do you hear? You shall both be shot by-and-by.”
A yell of triumph, which sounded like a chorus of savage beasts in anticipation of blood, rose from all around.
“Get reins and tie their arms behind them, my brothers. They’re English, and can spake nothing but lies.”
As some of the men hurried away to fetch the necessary cords, I turned to one of the big Boers who held me.