A faint cheer broke from some of the onlookers, while they turned and scattered, leaving the victims to their fate. The Zarps were coming in force.
Ned saw them coming, and, jumping over to Stephanus, he plucked the smoking revolver from his grasp, and quickly returned to the wall.
“We’re in for it now, Fred. I guess we’ll be hanged for this morning’s work.”
“What’s the odds?” replied Fred. “We’ve shown them that English men are not curs.”
“Stand back, you fellows, or I’ll pot some of you. We surrender, only let us go gently.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Boers, as they looked round them at the carnage. “Throw aside your shooter. We won’t hurt you and spoil the gallows.”
Ned flung down the revolver, while some of the police went for stretchers. The others contented themselves with closing round.
Seeing that they did not offer to molest them, the boys knelt down to look after Clarence. He had been hit over the head and stunned, but was now recovering. As they lifted him up he opened his eyes and groaned. Then he struggled up and looked round him, somewhat confused, for a second or two.
“Hallo! Is it all over?”
“Yes, Clar,” replied Ned. “All over, for the present. The next scene will be prison. Can you walk?”