‘Here, hold up, old chap!’ said his companion, pulling out a flask. ‘Take a nip of that. Better? Hallo—what’s going on there?’
He stepped on a boulder and gazed in the direction of a wagon round which some commotion was evident. Saxonstowe, without another glance at the dead man, stepped up beside him.
He saw a roughly built, rugged-faced man, wrapped in a much-worn overcoat that had grown green with age, stepping out across the plain, swishing at the herbage with a switch which jerked nervously in his hand. At his side strode a muscular-looking woman, hard of feature, brown of skin—a peasant wife in a faded skirt and a crumpled sun-bonnet. Near them marched a tall British officer in khaki; other Boers and British, a group of curious contrasts, hedged them round.
‘That’s Cronje,’ said the special correspondent, as he stepped down from the boulder. ‘Well, it’s over, thank God!’
The conquered was on his way to the conqueror.
LONDON AND GLASGOW: COLLINS’ CLEAR-TYPE PRESS.
COLLINS’ POPULAR NOVELS
BY FOREMOST WRITERS OF THE DAY
FULL CLOTH 3/6 LIBRARY BINDING