I'm
yer shuperior officer, and it's time of war. If a man strikes his
shuperior officer, he's stood up with a handkerchief tied across his
eyes to prevent him from winking and spoiling the men's aim, and then
the firing-party does the rest."

As he spoke he made a sign, and half-a-dozen of the mounted Boers rode
up.

"Sargint," he said, "the young colt's a bit fractious. Ye'll take him
in hand. Fasten his hands behind him ready. Two of ye go round to the
pen there and pick out the most likely horse, saddle and bridle him, and
bring him here. Ye've got some green-leather thongs. Then put him upon
the horse with his face to the tail, and tie his ankles underneath.
It'll be a fine lesson for the bhoy in rough-riding."

The men were quick enough. Before I had even thought of trying to make
my escape, two of the Boers were off their horses and made me their
prisoner, while the rest of the little troop rode closer up and
surrounded us.

Then other two of the men rode off behind the house, and I stood
breathing hard, biting my lips, and feeling as if something hot was
burning my chest as I tried hard to catch my father's averted eyes.

Just then the Irish renegade captain burst into a hearty laugh, and I
wrenched myself round to look, and felt better. A minute before, I had
seen Bob disappear into the house, and had mentally denounced him as a
miserable little coward; but my eyes flashed now as I saw him hurry out
with three rifles over his right shoulder, a bandolier belt across his
left, and two more, well filled with cartridges, hanging to the barrels
of the rifles.

"Bedad!" said the captain, "and he's worth fifty of his big, hulking
brother! But ye're too shmall, darlint. Wait a year or two longer, and
ye shall fight under me like a man."

Bob made a rush for father; but one of the Boers leaned down and caught
him by the shoulder, while another snatched the rifles from his hands,
and laid them across the pommel of the saddle in which he sat.

"Give up, Bob; give up," cried father sternly, as my brother began to
struggle with all his might. "It is no use to fight against fate."

"Hear him now," said the captain. "He can talk sinse at times."

"Yes," said my father, "at times;" and he gave the captain a look which
made him turn away his eyes.--"Val, my boy, I cannot have you exposed to
the ignominy of being bound."

"Sure, no," cried the captain. "I forgot to say a wurrud about
stirrup-leathers a