me right now about that 'Excellency,'
nephew. Well, it will have to serve. When a man writes such a letter
as that to the representative of the English Queen he needn't mind his
spelling; it will be swallowed with the rest," and he leaned back in his
chair and laughed softly.

"Now, _Meinheer_ Coetzee, what is it? Ah, I know; the prisoners. Well,
what did you do?"

Hans told his story, and was rambling on when the General cut him short.

"So, cousin, so! You talk like an ox-waggon--rumble and creak and jolt,
a devil of a noise and turning of wheels, but very little progress. They
will give up their twelve prisoners for our four, will they? That is
about a fair proportion. No, it is not, though: four Boers are better
than twelve Englishmen any day--ay, better than forty!" and he laughed
again. "Well, the men shall be sent in as you arranged; they will help
to eat up their last biscuits. Good-day, cousin. Stop, though; one word
before you go. I have heard about you at times, cousin. I have heard
it said that you cannot be trusted. Now, I don't know if that is so.
I don't believe it myself. Only, listen; if it should be true, and
I should find you out, by God! I will have you cut into rimpis with
afterox _sjambocks_, and then shoot you and send in your carcase as a
present to the English." As he spoke thus he leaned forward, brought
down his fist upon the deal table with a bang that produced a most
unpleasant effect upon poor Hans's nerves, and a cold gleam of sudden
ferocity flickered in the small eyes, very discomforting for a timid man
to behold, however innocent he knew himself to be.

"I swear----" he began to babble.

"Swear not at all, cousin; you are an elder of the church. There is no
need for it, besides. I told you I did not believe it of you; only I
have had one or two cases of this sort of thing lately. No, never mind
who they were. You will not meet them about again. Good-day, cousin,
good-day. Forget not to thank the Almighty God for our glorious
victories. He will expect it from an elder of the church."

Poor Hans departed crestfallen, feeling that the days of him who tries,
however skilfully and impartially, to sit upon two stools at once are
not happy days, and sometimes threaten to be short ones. And supposing
that the Englishmen should win after all--as in his heart he hoped
they might--how should he then prove that he had hoped it? The General
watched him waddle through the door from under his pe