Grasping the handle of his whip, Mr. Lovat brought the butt end down with force upon the head of the Boer who had just spoken, and the Dutchman stumbled and fell in the roadway.
The next moment the ostrich farmer was lying senseless on the ground, having been knocked down by a blow from a clubbed rifle.
First came a vision of many-coloured stars, then oblivion; and the world for the time being was a blank to Mr. Lovat.
When he came to his senses, he found himself lying in the farmyard. His arms and wrists had been securely fastened behind his back, while his ankles were also tied. The Cape cart was standing close to where he lay, but the mare was gone.
Then his thoughts turned to the bag of gold, and though dazed and suffering from a violent headache, a remembrance of his encounter with the Boers flashed through his mind, and he gave vent to a heavy groan.
The farmyard was covered with rough veldt grass, which made his couch a less painful one than it would have otherwise been. A bundle of dirty, discarded Boer clothing lay beside him, and in the vehicle was a roughly made hamper, which was not there when he left home.
He thought about his wife, Mary, and Jack, and imagined their anxiety at his non-return. He tried to move, but was unable to do so, while the pain in his head was almost insufferable.
The sun climbed higher in the heavens, and its fierce rays beat upon his bare head. His physical pain grew greater, but the acuteness of his mind-suffering lessened, and at last he again relapsed into unconsciousness.
Then Mr. Lovat was brought to himself by some one shaking him.
The ostrich farmer looked up in a dazed sort of way, and the sight of a bronzed and stalwart Colonial trooper clad in khaki, and wearing a couple of bandoliers, met his gaze.