"You are wounded?" said Uys, addressing Morton.
"I would not be here talking to you if I had not been," replied the trooper. "It is a mere scratch, though. You don't use expanding bullets, or explosive ones, for that matter. It is very good of you, I'm sure."
"Don't be sarcastic, my good man. You are quite sure you can make yourself comfortable till we come back?"
"I shall be all right," replied Morton. "The sooner you leave me the better I shall like it."
Commandant Uys smiled. "You are rather a humorous sort of fellow. May I ask you one question?"
"As you please," answered Morton gruffly.
"How long will it take for you to reach the Kopje Farm? Don't stare, my man. We are pretty well informed as to all movements made by the rooibaatjes. I should ask you to unstrip your tunic, but that would be a waste of energy, because you Colonials who act as scouts carry no identity cards. I am afraid we must inconvenience you for a little time. You shall not, however, go hungry. Stephanus, a piece of biltong for the rooinek. You will like it, for it is good fare while serving on the veldt."
Saying this, Commandant Uys strode out of the cave to where his burghers were standing near their horses.
A minute later, Morton, whether against his wish or not, found his ankles firmly secured by a piece of hide rope. His hands had been left unbound, but without a knife it was an impossibility to set himself free, and that instrument had been taken from him.
Jack Lovat was compelled to mount one of the spare horses belonging to the sections of the commando, and to his infinite satisfaction found that the horses' heads were turned in the direction of Rheni Kop, instead of the Kopje Farm. A bullet between his ribs from the rifle of a Britisher was too unpleasant a possibility to contemplate, so he felt devoutly thankful when he found himself proceeding in an opposite direction.