what has become of you."

"I am telling you the truth," Jack answered stubbornly. "I can say no
more. If you shoot me, you will be committing a foul murder, and will
some day regret it bitterly."

"Don't believe him, Oom! Don't believe the dog!" cried Piet Maartens
savagely, scowling angrily at Jack. "He lies. I can see it on his
face. He is a spy, and we must shoot him."

"Yes, shoot him, shoot him!" chimed in the German. "What does it matter
one proud Englishman more or less?"

"Softly, softly, Hans Schloss and Piet Maartens," exclaimed Oom Schalk.
"We need not hurry about this matter. The lad is young--no older than
my own son--and I will not kill him yet. Wait till to-morrow, and we
will learn more about him. All Englishmen are hateful, but I will not
take the life of a single one of them unless there be good cause.
Remember, my friends, there is but one God above us, and He will judge
us for our acts. If this lad is guilty of spying he shall die, but in
proper form, for I will not have him murdered. But he has a truthful
face, and I am inclined to believe his story, for who would be such a
fool, even amongst these Uitlanders, as to spy upon us here? No, no.
It is unlikely, and we will wait till to-morrow to learn more about him,
and sift the matter properly."

"Bah! You have too soft a heart, Oom Schalk," Hans Schloss shouted. "I
say, let us end his spying at once, for if you wait he will manage to
escape from us."

"Wait, wait!" exclaimed Oom Schalk, with some show of temper. "You
would not be so ready for me to carry out the sentence if you were in
his place. To-morrow we will see about the matter, and meanwhile I
place the prisoner in your hands. You will be responsible for him, and
see that no harm comes to him, or I will show you that Oom Schalk has a
stony heart at times."

The big Boer nodded to Jack, and stalked out of the vault.

For a few moments Jack faced unflinchingly the six men who remained,
wondering whether, now that their commandant had gone, they would shoot
him or injure him in any way. But with a few muttered oaths and
sneering remarks as to what would happen to him on the morrow, they
turned away, Piet Maartens giving orders that he should be bound with a
rope.

Five minutes later Jack was tied hand and foot, and placed upon the
concrete flooring with his back resting against a wheel of one of the
trucks. From here he watched his captors, who had retired into th