“I’d rather say so,” replied Clarence, rubbing his skull gently. “By Jumbo! but that was a clinker I got. It has made a new bump as big as an ostrich egg. Ah yes, I can waltz along with you two.”
To the surprise of our heroes, their captors treated them quite gently on their way to jail. They merely held them firmly by the arms, and did not attempt either to kick or jerk them about, as was generally done with prisoners.
Behind them came the stretchers with the wounded men who lay inertly, and after them followed a numerous crowd. The men kept silence, but the women waved their handkerchiefs and cheered.
Ned, Fred, and Clarence had won popularity. Even the Boers treated them with grim respect, and said—
“These pups can bite as well as bark. Ugh, it’s a pity they are not Boers.”
About a couple of hours after their incarceration they received a visit from Mr Raybold. He had come as soon as he heard about the affair, and although he looked very grave, yet he did not reproach them.
“I expected something like this from you young blades; but it is a serious scrape for all that.”
“Any of them killed?” asked Ned, coolly.
“No, not quite so bad. You have broken one man’s jaw, and spoilt the nose of young Groblaar. The other two are not much the worse, only they’ll make the most of their bruises.”
“I suppose so; when they make such an outcry over the couple of men they lost at Krugersdorp. What do you think will be done to us?”