ving
of his brother men.--Yes, my lad, what is it?"

For West, whose face had flushed deeply and whose blood tingled in his
veins, had taken four steps forward out of the ranks, and now stood with
his hand raised to the salute.

"Give me the despatch, sir," he said. "I'll take it."

"You?" cried the Commandant wonderingly, as his eyes ran over the
speaker. "You are very young. But are you a good rider?"

"I think I can ride anything well enough, sir."

"Splendid rider," said a deep voice, and Ingleborough strode to the
young man's side. "He'll do it, sir, if any man can; and I'll go with
him to help him in the task if you'll give me orders."

"Hah!" ejaculated the Commandant. "Yes, I know you, Mr Ingleborough.
You belong to the police?"

"Oh no, sir; I am only on friendly terms with the superintendent, and
have been on expeditions with him."

"And you think your young friend would be a good man to carry the
despatch?"

"I would trust him if I were in power, sir."

"Then I will," said the Commandant, after a long and searching look at
West. "Be at my quarters in fifteen minutes' time, both of you, and we
will have further talk on the matter."

The young men exchanged looks as they resumed their places in the ranks,
West's countenance betokening the wild excitement he felt, while
Ingleborough, who looked perfectly calm and contented, just gave him a
smile and a nod.

A few minutes later they were dismissed, and the two young men had hard
work to get free from their brother volunteers, who surrounded and
cheered them loudly, one of the officers proposing that they should be
chaired back through the town. But they escaped this on the ground of
their orders to go to the Commandant's quarters, and were at last set
free, to hurry away. The next minute they encountered Anson, who had
heard and seen all, and passed them without a word, but wearing a
peculiarly supercilious and meaning smile which broadened into a grin of
contempt that made West writhe.

"Bless him!" said Ingleborough. "Do you know what the pleasant look
means?"

"That he will not be happy till I've thrashed him."

"No," said Ingleborough; "he has evidently heard all, and has made up
his mind that he is going to have a pleasant revenge."

"How? In what way?" cried West.

"He thinks the Boers will shoot us: that's all."

"Ah!" cried West.

"But we will not let them, my dear boy," said Ingleborough coolly.
"They're slim, as they