A hundred lashes, to be spread over the first two years in the following order: twenty-five lashes after the first three months’ imprisonment, and twenty-five each six months after.
Our heroes laughed at the fines, but they clenched their teeth and vowed that they would be free or dead before the lashes were inflicted upon them.
“If we get free and live, boys,” whispered Ned, fiercely, “I hope that fiend Kruger may not die before I can kill him.”
Mr Raybold and Philip Martin got a few words with them before they were led away.
“Don’t you pay that fine, father,” said Clarence.
“Not until you are at liberty, then I don’t mind what it costs me,” replied his father, brokenly.
“Don’t be afraid, father; the Transvaal hasn’t got a tronk that will keep us in for three months, now that we know our fate.”
Philip stooped and whispered in the ear of Ned.
“We shall move heaven and earth to get you sent to one jail. After that, day and night we will work to help your escape. Keep up your pluck, and take advantage of all chances. We’ll have you shadowed with friends and able horses.”
Ned smiled, and pressed the hand of his friend as he answered—