I smiled sadly, stretching out my swollen legs.
“Yes, I know,” said Denham; “but my hands are not powerless now, and I have still a knife in my pocket—the one with which I cut the reins—and it will cut these.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and I glanced at the two openings in the wagon.
“Be careful,” I whispered.
“All right; but the Boers don’t understand English. Look here, Val; if the big friendly fellow is going to fight to-night, what does it mean?”
“Of course,” I replied excitedly, “an attack upon the fort. They’re going to get in when it’s dark; and if they do there’ll not be half of our poor fellows left by morning.”
“Couldn’t we slip off as soon as it’s dark, and warn them? Once we were outside the lines we might run.”
“Might run?” I said bitterly. “I don’t believe we could even stand.”
“Ah! I forgot that,” he muttered, with a groan. “Well, nothing venture, nothing have. It’ll be dark enough in a few minutes, and then I shall slip the knife under your ankles and set your legs free. When that’s done you can do the same for me.”
“Suppose the Boers come and examine us?”