less.
Death was their daily bread, and caution was a thing unknown to them.

Wonderful developments could be expected within the next few days.

The lowering clouds of adversity gathered closely, surely,
mercilessly, around our friends.

Clasp that hand again, and once again, in mute farewell. Look deep
into those steadfast eyes. It may be for the last time for many long,
relentless years; it may be for the last time--on earth!

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BETRAYAL OF THE SECRET COMMITTEE. A MEMORABLE DAY OF TROUBLE

It was only a few days after the van Warmelos had parted from Mr.
Botha that Mr. J. Joubert arrived at Harmony with the tidings that
four men had again entered the town that night. One of them was a lad
of nineteen, young Erasmus, whose parents had been killed by lightning
when he was a child, and to whom Mrs. Joubert had been a second
mother.

When he arrived at their home that night they were very angry with
him, and demanded what he meant by coming into the very heart of
danger.

He meekly answered that he had merely come to see how they were all
getting on, and to spend a few days at home, casually remarking that
there was a dearth of horse-shoe nails on commando, and that he had
been ordered to bring some out.

He and his comrades knew nothing of the recent betrayal, and it was
their good fortune that they had used an entirely different route,
coming through Skinner's Court. They had not seen a single guard.

Besides the horse-shoe nails, there was the usual demand for clothing
and European and Colonial newspapers.

Mrs. van Warmelo immediately made a parcel of the cuttings which she
and her friends had been collecting for some time past, and wrote a
tiny note to Mr. Greyling, warning him and his fellows against coming
in through the usual way, which was now guarded, and informing him
that his name had been betrayed. This note was hidden in a match-box
with a double false bottom, covered with matches, and given to Erasmus
to be handed to Greyling.

Since the revelations made, it was not safe to see the spies, nor was
it known by whom the match-box had been sent.

After all, in spite of Mrs. Joubert's vexation with the reckless
youth, she was thankful to know that some one was going out to
Skurveberg with a warning to the Secret Service.

Erasmus had to leave without the horse-shoe nails, because, though J.
Joubert hunted all over the town, he could not procure enough to send
out.

T