Fortunately, the light was soon turned in another direction.
The spies descended with their parcels, and were shortly in the deep furrow along which they had to creep to reach the wire fence, cautiously wending their way to friends and liberty, when some one came running after them, shouting to them to stop.
It was van der Westhuizen with a parcel they had left in the cab.
In this way the three men left the town with the railway time-table, not to come in again until September 10th.
My readers will remember the five men who were cut off from their refuge in the Skurvebergen some time back, and one of whom Mrs. van Warmelo had refused to harbour.
I shall not name them, for I do not feel myself justified in damning the reputation of the Boer traitors for ever by publishing their names, but the events I am about to relate cannot be excluded without changing the entire character of this story.
These men had been concealed by other friends, and when the scare was over they escaped from Pretoria to the commandos. They had nearly been forgotten when news reached the capital of their capture by the enemy, five of them in all, and of their imprisonment in jail.
While their life hung in the balance a time of nervous dread, not to be forgotten, was passed through, for they would either be shot as spies or they could save themselves by betraying their friends.
The suspense was soon over.
One of them—the very one, in fact, who had been refused admittance to Harmony through Mrs. van Warmelo's prudence, turned King's evidence and, to save his own precious skin, revealed the names of the good friends who had sheltered him at their own peril.