cross his back if he didn't behave himself."

"Fate is against us for the present, my boy," continued my father, "and
you must ride with this party till I have applied to the proper quarters
to get the matter righted."

"Now, man, be aloive," said the captain, and I winced and looked vainly
round for a way of escape; but I was seized by the wrist by another
dismounted Boer, who slipped a raw-hide noose over my wrist, just as two
more came riding back, leading my own horse, Sandho, between them. The
poor beast, who followed me like a dog, uttered a shrill neigh as soon
as he caught sight of me, springing forward to reach my side.

"Stop!" cried my father loudly; "there is no need for that. My son will
ride with you, sir."

"Indade, sir, I'm obleeged to ye for the inforrmation," said the captain
mockingly; "but sure it's a work of shupererrogation, me dear friend,
for I knew it, and that he was going to ride backward. If, however, he
gives up sinsibly, he may ride with his back to the horse's tail, and ye
needn't tie his ankles togither. Have ye ever ridden that horse
before?"

"He has ridden it hundreds of times, ever since it was a foal," said my
father quickly, for I felt choked.--"Stop, man," he added angrily; "your
captain said my son was not to be bound."

"Sure I didn't say a wurrud about his wrists, old man," cried the
captain contemptuously. "Ye want too much. I've let him off about the
ankles, and let him ride face forward, so be contint. Make his wrists
fast behind him."

I was compelled to resign myself to my fate, and stood fighting hard to
keep down all emotion while my wrists were secured firmly behind my
back, the thin raw-hide cutting painfully into the flesh.

By this time Sandho was bridled and saddled, and just then my father
turned to Bob.

"Take in those rifles, my boy," he said.

The captain turned sharply and gave my father a searching look; but he
contented himself with nodding, and my brother snatched the rifles from
where they lay across the Boer's knees, and rushed indoors with them.

I knew well enough why, poor fellow: it was to hide the tears struggling
to rise, and of which he was ashamed.

Just then I had harder work than ever to control my own feelings, for
Aunt Jenny hurried towards me, but was kept back by my captors; and I
saw her go to my father and throw her arms about his neck, while he bent
over her and seemed to be trying to whisper comfort.

"There, up with