I nodded, then remarked, “That man seems to have some feeling in him.”
“Yes; but we can’t eat and drink now.”
“No,” I replied. “I feel as if food would choke me.”
Denham nodded, and sat gazing out at the bright sunshine.
“Think it would give us a little Dutch courage if we had some breakfast?”
“I don’t want any,” I said desperately. “I want them to put us out of our misery before that wretch Moriarty comes back.”
“But we want to face them like men,” said Denham suddenly. “We’re so weak and faint now that we shall be ready to drop. Let’s eat and drink, and we will show the Boers that English soldiers are ready to lace anything.”
“I can’t,” I replied desperately.
“You must,” cried Denham. “Como on.” He took up his pannikin, raised it to his lips, and took a long deep draught before setting the vessel down and taking up the cake.
“Come, Val,” he said firmly, “if you leave yours the Boers will think you are too much frightened to eat.”