“Carry him down at once,” said Captain Roby; “he is evidently badly wounded.”
“Not he,” growled Dickenson savagely. “He hurt me more than I hurt him. He used pistol; I only used fist and punched him in the nose.”
Sergeant James smiled grimly, and drawing a roll of bandage from his wallet, tore off a bit and wiped the blood from the prisoner’s face.
“Hullo!” he cried.—“Hooray, Captain Roby, sir! This is our Boer friend who tried to blow us up.”
Lennox stopped forward eagerly, and signed for the lantern to be lowered.
“Yes,” he cried wonderingly; “that is the man.”
“And no mistake,” said Dickenson. “Come, I call this a good catch.”
The other officers looked down at the dark eyes scowling up at them.
“Yes,” he growled fiercely, “I am the man; and I’ll do it yet.”
“Perhaps your precious game may be stopped now, my good fellow,” said Captain Roby meaningly.