But a glance round showed them the impossibility of such a proceeding, for they were unarmed and surrounded by men with fixed bayonets, while, in addition, every pony had an armed man holding its bridle; and as their shifty eyes were turned from one to another in a questioning way, the prevailing thought seemed to be that any such proceeding would be mad in the extreme, and could only result in their being shot down.
The inspection did not take long, and the colonel turned away to confer with the group of officers who followed him.
“The sooner we get rid of these fellows the better,” he said, “for we can’t keep them here. What shall I do?” he continued, in response to a question from the major of the regiment. “Make them take the oaths to be on parole not to bear arms against us again?”
“Ready for them to go and break their word,” grumbled the major.
“Of course; after what has passed we can’t trust them a bit. But we can’t keep them here an hour; half-an-hour is too much. They will see far more of our weakness and the state of our defences in five minutes than I like.”
He turned to the heavy, big-bearded man who seemed to be the leader, and asked if he would take the oath not to fight against the Queen again.
The man started and looked relieved, for he grasped all that was said to him—words which came while he was still in doubt as to what their fate was to be, his ideas tending towards a volley of rifles fired at ten paces.
The next minute he was interpreting the colonel’s words to his comrades in misfortune, and with a meaning smile each man willingly made the promise in Dutch that he would take no further part in the war.
“Look here,” said the colonel to their leader; “make them fully understand that if they are again taken in arms against the Queen—”
“They have no Queen,” said the Boer leader surlily. “This is the Transvaal Republic.”