ssed, wore his
hair short, and his moustache and beard were clipped into points. His
hands, which he laid upon my shoulders, were white. To my surprise,
this man examined my head, with its bandages and traces of injuries.
Then he looked hard in my eyes, and turned me a little over to examine
my tightly-bound wrists and ankles. Next he examined Denham in the same
way, my comrade gazing straight away, with his brow knit and lips
tightened into a thin red line, but he never once glanced at the
examiner.

"Well," said the latter, rising from one knee, "even if they are spies,
you need not treat them as if they were wild beasts."

"Captain Moriarty's orders," said the Boer, whom I recognised as my
captor of the previous night.

"Bah!" growled the other angrily. "You are soldiers now; act like
them."

I was listening with a feeling of gratitude that this man spoke
differently from the others, and he saw my eyes fixed upon him.

"Do you speak German?" he asked sharply.

"No," I replied; "but I understood you just now."

He nodded, and then turned to the others to speak in a low tone. The
result of this was that two of the men knelt down and set our arms free,
placing them before us, for they were perfectly numb and dead. Mine
looked as if the thongs had cut almost to the bone, the muscle having
swollen greatly.

The party then went out at the back; but my captor, who was last, turned
back and said:

"There are two sentries with loaded rifles at each end, and they have
orders to fire."

"What did he say, Val?" asked Denham as soon as we were alone.

I told him, and he laughed softly.

"What is it?" I said wonderingly.

"I was only thinking," he replied. Then quickly, "Will they bind our
hands again--at the last?"

"I don't know," I said in a low, husky voice. "Perhaps not."

"Let's hope not; and we must rub some feeling into them first."

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

"Don't you know, old fellow? Guess."

I shook my head.

"Well, it is hard work; but look here: they didn't search us last night,
only tied us hand and foot. We've got our revolvers inside our shirts.
Let's have one shot each at Moriarty before we die."

I looked at him wonderingly, for the vivid dream of the night came back,
and my brother's words seemed to be thrilling hotly in my ear once more.

Denham looked at me curiously.

"Well," he said, "wouldn't you like to shoot the wretch?"

"No," I said; "not now.