go through the agony of lying here and listening all the
while, perfectly helpless. Oh Denham, they'll never carry the place--
will they?"

"Not unless it's quite a surprise," he replied. "Oh no," he added more
confidently; "our lads will be too smart for that."

"They'll try hard," I said, "and fail, losing a great number of men, and
they'll come back at daybreak mad with rage."

"And shoot us," said Denham coolly. "That's it."

"Let me try at your knots now."

"No. Listen; the sentries are coming in again."

He was right; for, as if suspicious, the sentries climbed in, four
strong, two standing with rifles at the ready, while the others stripped
down the top rug and carefully examined our wrists and ankles, then
spread the _karosse_ over us once more, uttering grunts of satisfaction
as they did so.

Alone again, we lay listening for the movements of the Boer troops: but
the sounds had nearly died out.

Then the sentries began to talk together earnestly, and it seemed as if
the man on duty in front of the wagon had joined those at the back, with
the result that the conversation was becoming excited.

"They're on the lookout after the advance," whispered Denham. "It seems
to be very dark outside. I believe it will not be long before we hear
the attack begin."

"No; they'll wait till our men are asleep."

"Perhaps," said Denham; "but it must be getting late. Our fellows may
be asleep now."

"Yes," I replied, with a sigh; and then irritably, "Why did you do that?
You can whisper."

"What do you mean?" he asked after a pause.

"Hitting me on the hands like that. You hurt me dreadfully."

"I didn't--" he began; but I stopped him with an excited "Hush!" and lay
perfectly still, the perspiration starting out all over me.

"What is it?" whispered Denham, after waiting for some time. "What's
that gnawing and tearing sound?"

"Something under the wagon," I replied very softly.

"A lion?" he whispered.

"No; some one as brave as a lion. He has been cutting a long slit in
the _karosse_, and now he has hold of my wrists with one hand, and he's
sawing with a knife through the thong with the other."

"Val!" panted the poor fellow wildly.

The hot perspiration on my face turned icily cold at this cry, for I
heard a quick movement among the sentries, and two of them sprang up on
the wagon to look at us lying there upon our backs beneath the upper
_karosse_, under the yellow light of the lantern. I