“Look here,” he said, “we want some change from our monotonous fare; but if you two had come back loaded with salmon I should have forbidden any further fishing—so of course I do now. I can’t afford to have my officers setting themselves up as butts for the Boers to practise at.”
“We have taken fifteen prisoners and their horses, sir,” interposed Captain Roby, making an effort to turn aside the wrath of their chief.
“Yes, Mr Roby, I saw that you had some prisoners,” replied the colonel meaningly; “but, excuse me, I had not finished addressing these two gentlemen.”
“I beg pardon, sir.”
“That will do,” said the colonel. “There, I need say no more. Let’s see the prisoners.”
“I don’t think I like fishing as a sport, Drew, old man,” said Dickenson, rubbing his ear, and then wincing with pain. “Come on, and let’s see the inspection of the enemy. But the boss needn’t have been so gruff. We acted as bait, and he has caught fifteen Boers and their horses.”
“And how are we to feed them all now we have got them?” said Lennox, with a quaint smile.
“Oh, that’s what made the old man so waxy!” cried the other. “I see now. Well, let him set them up and have them shot.”
“Of course; according to our merciless custom,” said Lennox sarcastically; and directly after the two friends closed up to where the prisoners were being paraded, their horses, clever, wiry-looking little cobs, being led up behind them by some of the men.
It was almost the first time that the young men had been in such close contact with the sturdy, obstinate enemy they had so long kept at bay, and they stared eagerly at the rough, unshorn, ill-clad, farmer-like fellows, for the most part big-bearded, sun-tanned, and full of vigour, who met their gaze defiantly, but kept on directing uneasy glances at the other officers, more than once looking eagerly at their led horses as if mentally weighing whether by a bold rush they could reach their steeds, spring upon them, and gallop away.