“Look out, boys!” cried Ned, as he sprang to the nearest wall, and planted his back against it. As he did so, he saw amongst the onlookers Stephanus Groblaar.
Fred and Clarence ranged themselves alongside of their chum with alacrity.
“Now, then, come along, you white-livered Uitlanders!” cried the Zarps, closing in and raising their batons.
“Go with them quietly,” shouted the onlookers, warningly, as they saw the boys were preparing to resist.
Philip Martin had by this time rounded the corner, without seeing what had happened.
“Yes; take your licking like true Englishmen!” cried Stephanus, mockingly.
“Don’t be afraid—we shall!” answered Ned, casting prudence to the winds, as he darted to one side to avoid the falling baton.
It grazed his shoulder, while his aggressor stumbled forward with an ugly oath.
Next moment he was sprawling on his back, with a mouth filled with loose teeth and gore, while Ned caught the baton adroitly as it flew from his grasp.
As he caught it, he swung it round and landed it with crushing force on the jaws of the second officer. A sound of breaking bones was heard, while the Boer went down like a felled ox.