“Nonsense, man!” retorted the other, seeing that, in spite of his refusal, Tom cast a hungry look at the biscuit. “Eat it at once, or I’ll pitch it away.” Then, as Tom devoured the biscuit, Frank said:
“I think our lives are safe, though we may be detained prisoners for some time. The truth is I have a friend at court, who will do all he can for us.”
“But you’re not a prisoner, Frank?” inquired Tom (upon whom the sup of brandy and mouthful of wholesome food had already had a most beneficial effect), as he regarded his comrade with a puzzled look.
“You cannot for a moment suppose that I came here willingly!” laughed Jamieson. “What makes you ask such an extraordinary question? I hope you don’t think that I am a deserter!”
“Why, you don’t look like a prisoner,” Tom rejoined. “In the first place, the Caffres have left you your clothes; and secondly, they don’t appear to have made free with the contents of your pockets; whereas, they’ve stripped pretty nearly every rag off my back, and knocked me about into the bargain. How is it they let you off so easily?”
“Well, as I told you before, I have a friend at court,” Jamieson answered. “It fortunately happened that Untsikana, the chief into whose clutches I fell, is an old acquaintance—in fact, about two years ago I saved his life; and moreover, he was under great obligations to my poor father—”
“Poor father!” echoed Tom. “I hope the captain is—”
“The dear old governor is dead, Tom,” interrupted Frank with a deep sigh. “I thought you knew it. When last seen he was fighting by your side.”
“So he was, but he was all right when I got knocked over. Are you sure he is killed?”
“There can be no doubt of it, I grieve to say. Untsikana saw his body, and also that of poor Patrick Keown. The corps was almost annihilated—counting the fellows that were with me, there are not more than thirty left.”