ver, this would be a greater risk than going in the other direction.

"It's of no use, Joeboy," I said hoarsely; "we're trapped."

"Boss Val going to fight?" he said inquiringly, and as he asked his
question he fitted his long, elliptical shield well upon his left arm
and arranged his assagais handy for throwing.

"Two against all those, Joeboy? No; it would be folly."

There was no time for more words, for the party which had remained in
hiding till we had passed were closing in fast; and then a couple of
young men suddenly darted out from those in front, set spurs to their
horses, and seemed to race at us, leaping the stones in their way
steeplechase fashion.

In almost less time than I take to describe it, one of them, a
good-looking, frank young fellow in an officer's uniform, rose in his
stirrups and made a snatch at my arm; but, in answer to a touch of the
heel, Sandho leaped forward, and my would-be captor passed me, riding on
several horse-lengths before he could turn and come at me again; while,
by a quick leap aside, Joeboy avoided the man who came at him, and stood
with his back to a great stone, with his assagai raised to strike.

"Surrender, you Dutch scoundrel!" roared my antagonist, drawing his
sword, "or I'll cut you down."

"Dutch scoundrel yourself, you ugly idiot of a Boer!" I cried as
angrily, and I brought my rifle to bear upon him, holding it like a
pistol.

"Here, don't shoot," cried my adversary. "You don't talk like a Boer."

"Why should I?" said I. "But you're not a Dutchman--are you?"

"Hardly," he said, with a laugh.

"What are you, then?"

"Making a mistake, it seems," he replied.

"But your people are Boers?"

"They're going to beat them," he replied, "as soon as they get a chance.
Have you seen them up the Nek yonder?"

"Yes; I was running away from them. They were shooting at us last
night."

"Hi; Robsy! Steady there!" roared my new acquaintance. "Steady, I say!
Friends.--You, Black Jack, put down that spear, or it'll be the worse
for you.--It's all right, sir," he continued as a grey-haired,
military-looking man now rode up, followed by half-a-dozen more. "This
is an Englishman running away from the Boers."

"Then he's not an Englishman," said the officer sharply. "Here, arrest
this man.--Now then, give an account of yourself, for you look
confoundedly like a spy. Here, some one, cut that black fellow down if
he resists."

"Be quiet, Joeboy," I cried; "th