"He is an Englishman, I think, Veldt-cornet," answered the Boer; but no amount of questioning could elicit from Jack his proper name and place of residence. If this were part of Christian Uys's commando, his identity would soon be discovered, and then good-bye to life itself.
"Keep an eye on him, Maartens," said the veldt-cornet, with a yawn; and the officer rolling himself up in his blanket, sank back on the veldt, and was soon wrapped in a profound slumber.
The fire was now burning low—a lucky circumstance for Jack Lovat, or his wounded condition would have been seen, and unwelcome inquiries made.
"Lie down and rest, youngster," said the Boer sentry; and Jack obeyed.
Our hero's mind was now running on horses, but that another chance of escape would present itself seemed impossible.
Dawn would soon break, and he knew that if the other portion of Christian Uys's commando should come up, all would be over, and a Mauser bullet would end his cares and sufferings.
Several of the Boers were awake and glancing at Jack with looks of wonderment. Their curiosity, however, had evidently been appeased by Maartens, and seated round the smouldering embers of the fire, they began to converse in low whispers, and Jack overheard such words as "drift," "kloof," and "schantze"; and when the words "New Zealanders" were pronounced he knew that the patrol were on the look-out for the Auckland Rangers.
The cold was intense, and Jack began to shiver violently. One of the Boers seeing this, kindly handed our hero a blanket and told him to make himself comfortable.
An hour before dawn the whole party were astir, and the grateful aroma of freshly made coffee filled Jack's nostrils.
Additional fires had been lighted, and over these several Boers were busily engaged in grilling strips of biltong.