“Paper?” said the Boer sharply.
“Yes.”
“Then we don’t go.”
“Yes, you do, my obstinate friend. It will be an order to an official here, and he’ll pay you a fair price at once—in gold.”
“My price?”
“Oh, that I can’t say,” replied the captain. “But I promise you will be fairly dealt with.”
The Boer put his burning pipe in his pocket, snatched off his battered slouch felt hat, and gave his shaggy head an angry rub, looking round at his companions as if for support, and then staring back at the way they had come, to see lanterns gleaming and the glint of bayonets dimly here and there, plainly showing him that retreat was out of the question. Then, like some bear at bay, he uttered what sounded like a low growl, though in fact it was only a remark to the man nearest to him, a similar growl coming in reply.
“Come, sir, no nonsense,” said the captain sternly. “You have come to sell, I suppose?”
“I shouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,” growled the Boer.
“Then come along. You cannot go back now. I have told you that you will be well treated. Please to recollect that if our colonel chose he could commando everything you have brought for the use of our force; but he prefers to treat all of your people who bring supplies as straightforward traders. Now come along.”