“Because we think it would be better for you to go.”
“And fall into the Boers’ hands and be shot?”
“Bother!” cried Dickenson. “Why, you are as suspicious as—as—well, as some one I know. Now, my good fellow, don’t you know that we’ve eaten the sheep?”
“Yes, I know that,” said the Boer.
“Finished the last side of the last ox?”
“Yes, I know that too,” replied the Boer, nodding his head slowly and sagely.
“And come down to the last ten sacks of the Indian corn?”
“Mealies? Yes, I know that too.”
“Well, in the name of all that’s sensible, why should we want to get you taken by your own people?”
“To be sure; I see now,” said the cornet. “Better for us to get the wagons full again, and drive in some more sheep and oxen.”