“My young brother here,” I said quickly; “we were just going to try and escape.”
“Ah!” cried the young man sharply, as an angry murmur ran round the group. “You couldn’t escape with feet like that. I mean, who tied you up in that brutal way?”
“The Boers!” cried Denham passionately, for his face was convulsed, and he looked hysterical and weak now.
The soldiers uttered a fierce yell, and as others crowded to back and front I heard a burst of excited ejaculations, oaths, and threats.
“’Tention!” shouted the officer.
“Now then,” he cried, “who are you? Oh, I see you both belong to the Light Horse.”
“Yes,” I said, for Denham was speechless. “They took us last night as we were trying to creep through their lines to come to you for help.”
“Ah!” cried the officer.
“They said we were spies, and we were to be shot at daybreak.”
“We’ve come and shot them instead,” said the officer. His men inside and out burst into a wild cheer. “But who are these? Boers?”