"I shall take my chance," said Morton, smiling as he spoke. "I'm convinced from what I saw that a valuable diamondiferous reef is in existence in the valley. I would wager my bottom sovereign—only unfortunately I haven't got one to stake—to next to nothing that a fortune awaits the man who exploits the place. It is worth a try, at any rate, and I'm going to make the venture in the morning, and chance another capture."
"We'll go together, then, Sergeant," said Jack; "and if luck comes in our way, we'll share and share alike. Most of the valley belongs to my father, and if anything turns up, I know he will be awfully glad to get back to the old country."
"Nothing to prevent it, I can assure you, my lad," observed Morton. "Who knows what is lying hid in this wonderful valley of yours? Perhaps it may contain more diamonds than are in the Kimberley district."
Sergeant Morton was optimistic. He had already in his possession stones which he estimated bore a face value of two thousand pounds.
"We'll go and have a chat now with father and mother," said Jack; and the two friends made an adjournment to the room where Mr. and Mrs. Lovat were seated, discussing the strange drama that had been enacted at the Kopje Farm during the past few days.
The night passed without alarms. Sergeant Morton and Jack never slept, but spent their time in visiting the sentries judiciously placed around the farm by the former. During the night a couple of wounded Boers succumbed to their injuries, and were buried in the little paddock behind the house, now a miniature cemetery.
"Bedad, sorr," said Pat O'Neill to Jack after the burial, "this brings back ould times—when I was twenty years younger than I am to-day. Do you know, sorr, that I thought my blood was gettin' a bit thin, but by the powers, I'm spoilin' for another fight. Maybe, though, it won't come off. By the way, sorr, did the masther get back those five hundred sovereigns the dirthy curs robbed him of at Jagger's Farm?"
"I'm afraid father won't see them again, Pat," replied Jack. "The poor beggars are welcome to keep them. They have had a stiffish time of it lately. I hardly think they will make an attack on the Kopje Farm again. What is it, Pat? Why are you fumbling in your waistcoat?"
"I've got a bit av loot, Masther Jack," answered Pat. "No, sorr, not your father's sovereigns;" and the Irishman drew out a dirty chamois-leather bag.
Dipping his hand into the bag, Pat withdrew ten Kruger sovereigns and showed them to Jack.