n and my shoulder numbed. Now will you make a dash while you can?"

West hesitated, and duty mastered friendship and humane feeling for his
companion. He was but one, and the despatch might deal with the lives
of a thousand men in peril of their lives.

"Yes, I must go!" he groaned, making for his horse; but he was too late.

For though the Boers, apparently from a feeling that they were quite
sure of their prey, had advanced slowly and cautiously, each man with
his rifle presented and finger on trigger, their movements showed plenty
of cunning. They had opened out so as to get round the horses, watching
the young man's actions all the time, and when he at last made for his
mount they were close up, and rifle-barrels bristled around, every
muzzle threatening and grim.

"Throw up your hands!" came in chorus from a score of throats, and
directly after the same order was given in fair English by two of the
ragged, unkempt, big-bearded enemy.

West looked fiercely round like a hunted animal brought to bay by the
hounds, waiting to seize the first one that sprang, and ground his teeth
with rage; but he paid no heed to the men's words.

"Throw up your hands!" roared one of the men.

"Throw up your own!" said West defiantly, and then to his bitter
annoyance he started on one side, for there was a flash, simultaneously
a whizz close to his face, and instantly the sharp report of a rifle.

Recovering from the sudden shock to his nerves caused by his previous
unbelief that the enemy would be so cowardly as to fire upon a perfectly
helpless prisoner, West swung himself round to face the man who had
fired at him from such close quarters that the flash of the powder had
scorched his cheek.

The Boer was busily thrusting a fresh cartridge into the breech of his
piece, and as he met the young man's eyes he burst out into a coarse and
brutal laugh.

"Throw up your hands, then, you cursed rooinek!" he cried, "or I'll blow
out your brains!"

"Not if I die for it!" cried West. "You cowardly cur!" And turning as
the Boers closed him in, he continued, with bitter contempt, and
speaking in their own tongue: "I suppose you are a specimen of the brave
peasant farmers making a struggle for their liberty!"

"You keep a civil tongue in your head, young man," growled out one of
the party in English, "unless you want to feed the crows!"

"You keep your cowardly gang in order first before you dictate to me!"
cried West, turning u