“You haven’t given him orders to return us our horses and our rifles.”
“What!” cried the colonel.
“We can’t get about without them,” said the Boer coolly.
The colonel laughed.
“Well, of all the cool impudence!” he cried. “Why, you insolent dog!” he roared, “do you expect we are such children that we are going to give you the means of attacking us again directly you are safe?—Here, Roby, see these fellows out of the lines.”
The colonel turned away and walked back to his quarters, followed by a torrent of abuse, which was promptly checked by Captain Roby, who gave his orders sharply, and the prisoners were marched off in front of the sergeant’s guard with fixed bayonets.
But the incident was not quite at an end, for before a quarter of an hour had elapsed the crackling of rifle-fire was heard in the direction of the ford, towards which men were sent at once. The alarm soon died out on the cause being known, the sergeant reporting that he had approached the ford with the prisoners and displayed a flag of truce, which brought out a party of five or six dozen Boers upon the farther side of the river, into whose charge the prisoners were given. But no sooner were all across and seen to be talking to their friends than there was a rush for cover, and before the sergeant and the outposts stationed there could grasp what the movement meant the enemy’s fire was opened upon them.
“Any one hurt, sergeant?” said Captain Roby.
“No, sir, wonderful to relate. Our lads were too sharp for them, and dropped at once. My heart rose to my mouth, sir, for I thought three of ours were hit; but it was only their sharpness, for they were returning the fire the next moment, and we kept it up as hot as the enemy did till they fell back.”
“Quite time the Boers were taught the meaning of civilised war, Bob,” said Lennox as they returned to their quarters.