CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
THAT BASE COIN.
"Let's see; this will take us round by the hospital wagons," saidIngleborough. "I vote we go round the other way, for we don't want anymore horrors now!"
They chose a different direction to return to their temporary quartersin the camp, one which took them round by the row upon row of capturedwagons and the roughly-made enclosure into which the prisoners had nowbeen herded, and where they were doubly guarded by a strong party ofmounted infantry, who had stringent orders to fire at the slightest signof trying to escape.
"They'll accept their lot now, I expect," said Ingleborough. "Who arethese with this next lot of wagons? Non-combatants, I suppose!"
"Yes; drivers of the provision wagons and traders," replied West. "Why,that's the man we saw going up out of the spruit."
"Yes," said Ingleborough, and as he spoke West noted that the man whohad been seated at the front of one of the wagons suddenly turned hisback and walked round to the other side.
West turned to Ingleborough.
Ingleborough turned to West.
They stood looking enquiringly in each other's eyes for a few momentsbefore the latter said suddenly:
"Which way will you go?"
"Left," said Ingleborough.
"And I'll go right."
They started at once, walking towards the wagon that had taken theirattention, Ingleborough making for the front where the man haddisappeared, and which necessitated passing the team of bullockscrouching down to ruminate over the fodder that had been cut for them,while West hurried round by the rear, the young men timing themselves soexactly that they met after seeing a pair of stout legs disappearbetween the fore and hind wheels of the wagon where the man they soughtto face had dived under.
Quick as thought, West and Ingleborough separated and ran back lightlyand quickly, this time to come upon the man they sought just as he wasgetting heavily upon his legs again, evidently in the belief that he hadnot been recognised.
He was thoroughly roused up to his position, though, by Ingleborough'sheavy hand coming down upon his shoulder and hoisting him round to facethe pair.
"Hallo, Anson!" cried Ingleborough banteringly; "this is a pleasantsurprise!" while West's eyes flashed as he literally glared in thecowardly scoundrel's face, which underwent a curious change as heglanced from one to the other, his fat heavy features lending themselvesto the dissimulation, as he growled out slowly: "Don't understand."
"What!" cried Ingleborough, in the same bantering tone; "don't you knowthis gentleman--Mr Oliver West?"
"Don't understand!" was the reply, and directly after: "Goodnight,Englishmen; I'm going to sleep!"
The next moment the heavy-looking fellow had turned his back again,stepped to the front part of the wagon, and sprawled over part of thewood-work as he tried to draw himself on to the chest before gettinginside.
But Ingleborough was a strong man, and he proved it, for, steppingbehind the man, he caught him by the collar of his jacket and the loosepart of his knicker-bocker-like breeches, and dragged him off the wagon,to plant him down in front of West.
The result was that their prisoner began to rage out abusive words inDutch, so loudly that in the exasperation he felt, Ingleborough raisedhis right foot and delivered four kicks with appalling vigour andrapidity--appalling to the receiver, who uttered a series of yells forhelp in sound honest English, struggling the while to escape, but withhis progress barred by West, who closed up and seized him by the arm.
The outcry had its effect, for the called-for help arrived, in the shapeof a sergeant and half-a-dozen men, who came up at the double with fixedbayonets.
"What's all this?" cried the sergeant sharply, as he surrounded theparty.
"Only a miracle!" cried Ingleborough. "This so-called Boer, who couldnot speak a word of English, has found his tongue."
"What are you, prisoner--a Boer?" cried the sergeant.
"Ah, yah, yah," was the reply, gutturally given; "Piet Retif, Boer."
"Well, sir, orders are that the Boer prisoners are not to be ill-used,"said the sergeant. Then, turning to the prisoner: "This your wagon andspan?"
"Ah, yah, yah, Piet Retif."
"He says Yah, yah, sir," said the sergeant, "which means it is hiswagon."
"Oh yes, it is his, I believe," said Ingleborough.
"Then what have you against him?"
"Only that he's a renegade Englishman, a man who deserted from Kimberleyto the Boers."
"It's a lie, sergeant," cried the man excitedly.
"That's good English," cried Ingleborough. "I told you I had worked amiracle; now perhaps I can make him say a little more. He's anillicit-diamond merchant and cheat as well, and his name is not PietRetif, but James Anson, late clerk to the Kimberley Company. What doyou say, West?"
"The same as you," replied West.
"It is a lie!" cried the man. "Piet Retif, dealer in mealies and corn."
"Mealies and corn!" cried Ingleborough scornfully. "The man is what Isay: an utter scoundrel, cheat, and, worse than all, a renegade anddeserter to the Boers."
Anson's jaw dropped, and his face seemed to turn from a warm pink togreen.