“Oh! There’s no one here understands English. When shall it be—to-night?”
“First time there is an opportunity, Jem,” said Don, softly.
“That’s so, my lad; so every time you get a chance, you eat; and when you don’t eat you drink, and lie down all you can.”
“Do you think any of the men here would try to escape with us?”
Jem shook his head.
“I don’t understand ’em, Mas’ Don. Seems to me that these chaps are all fight till they’re beaten; but as soon as they’re beaten, they’re like some horses over a job: they won’t try again. No, they’re no good to help us, and I suppose they mean to take it as it comes.”
The two lay in silence now, watching the proceedings of their captors, who were being feasted, till there was a sudden movement, and about a dozen men approached them, spear in hand.
At a shouted order the prisoners, wounded and sound, rose up with the women and children; and as patiently and apathetically as possible, allowed themselves to be driven up the hill-side to the strongly-built pah, through whose gateway they entered, and then threw themselves wearily down in the shadow of the great fence, while their captors secured the entrance, and a couple of them remained on guard.
“Do I look like a sheep, Mas’ Don?” said Jem, as he threw himself on the earth. “Sheep? No, Jem. Why?”
“Because I feels like one, my lad. Driven in here like one of a flock, and this place just like a great pen; and here we are to be kept till we’re wanted for— Oh, don’t look like that, Mas’ Don. It was only my fun. I say, you look as white as a wax image.”