“Yes,” said the colonel, “based upon the knowledge they must have wrung from one of the native tribes they have oppressed. Well, gentlemen, we have two of the miscreant spies. What next?”
“The fate of spies,” said Captain Roby. “I think it is due to our men that they should be shot.”
“Kept prisoners till we can hand them over to the general, and let him decide,” said the major. “What do you say, Edwards?”
“They are prisoners, and beaten,” said the captain. “Yes, I side with you.”
“Two against you, Roby,” said the colonel.—“Well, Lennox—and you, Dickenson—you may as well give your opinion. What do you say, Dickenson?”
“I should like to see that black-haired brute tied up and flogged, sir.”
“Should you?” said the colonel, smiling. “Well, I dare say he deserves it; but it is not the punishment we can give a prisoner, so your opinion will stand alone.—Well, Lennox?”
“Oh, it’s all war, sir; and the fellows are half-savage peasants who hate us like poison. You can’t shoot them, sir, for fighting their best—their way.”
“No, Mr Lennox, I can’t shoot them; but it will be a horrible nuisance to have to keep them as prisoners. I wish they had died fighting like brave men. As it is they will have to live prisoners till the war is at an end. Now then, about where to place them.”
“Here, I know, sir,” said Dickenson, laughing. “Shut them up in the kopje. They’ll be quite at home there.”