The Dutchman nearly stepped upon Jack, before he saw our hero; then bringing his rifle to the present, the Boer cried, "Who goes there? Speak, or I'll fire!" This was said in deep guttural Dutch, and the next moment Jack found himself again a prisoner.
Our hero felt thankful that he had not fallen into the hands of Transvaalers, who, justly or unjustly, bore a shady reputation for cruelty.
"Who and what are you?" demanded the Boer. "A rooinek?" The tones of the Free Stater were not unkind.
"Are there any more of you?" the sentry continued, glancing warily around.
"I am alone," replied Jack, who when he saw the Boer advancing towards him, threw his revolver away.
"Alone?" said the Boer. "And why are you prowling about here at this time of the night? You speak our language well. Are you one of us, or what?"
Jack made no reply, and the Boer commanded him to move towards the camp-fire, bringing up the rear.
Here the Boer roused up a man, dressed in somewhat superior clothing to his fellows, and whom he addressed as Veldt-cornet.
"A prisoner, Veldt-cornet," said the Boer.
The officer rubbed his eyes and said somewhat sleepily, "A rooinek, Maartens?"