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 the wood-work as he tried to draw himself on to the chest before getting inside.

But Ingleborough was a strong man, and he proved it, for, stepping behind the man, he caught him by the collar of his jacket and the loose part 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 in Dutch, so loudly that in the exasperation he felt, Ingleborough raised his right foot and delivered four kicks with appalling vigour and rapidity--appalling to the receiver, who uttered a series of yells for help in sound honest English, struggling the while to escape, but with his 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 shape of a sergeant and half-a-dozen men, who came up at the double with fixed bayonets.

"What's all this?" cried the sergeant sharply, as he surrounded the party.

"Only a miracle!" cried Ingleborough. "This so-called Boer, who could not 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 and span?"

"Ah, yah, yah, Piet Retif."

"He says Yah, yah, sir," said the sergeant, "which means it is his wagon."

"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 Kimberley to the Boers."

"It's a lie, sergeant," cried the man excitedly.

"That's good English," cried Ingleborough. "I told you I had worked a miracle; now perhaps I can make him say a little more. He's an illicit-diamond merchant and cheat as well, and his name is not Piet Retif, but James Anson, late clerk to the Kimberley Company. What do you 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 I say: an utter scoundrel, cheat, and, worse than all, a renegade and deserter to the Boers."

Anson's jaw dropped, and his face seemed to turn from a warm pink to green.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

ANOTHER START.

Before Anson's jaw had time to return to its place the sergeant and his men sprang up to attention, looking as stiff as if on parade.

West was the first to see the reason, and he nudged Ingleborough, just as a stern voice asked what was wrong.

"Bit of a row, sir, between the two despatch-riders and this prisoner, sir," replied the sergeant. "Prisoner charges these two gentlemen with a.s.saulting him. Says he's a Boer!"

The new-comer, who had four officers in attendance upon him during what was apparently a tour of inspection of the camp, turned sharply on the two friends.

"I cannot have the prisoners ill-treated," he said. "Why is this?"

"Because he is not a Boer, sir," said Ingleborough sharply. "This man was in the company's office with us at Kimberley. He is little better than a thief, or worse, for he is a receiver of stolen goods, an Englishman, an illicit buyer of diamonds, and a renegade who gave information to and deserted to the Boers."

"That will do," said the General. "Half of your charges would condemn him. Sergeant, see that this prisoner is carefully guarded. He will be tried later on. I am too busy to attend to such matters now."

Anson gave vent to a gasp, after listening to the general's orders for his safe custody.

But, though he was listening to the orders given, his eyes were otherwise employed. They were half-closed, but fixed intently upon West, and they did not quit his face till the sergeant clapped him on the shoulder, saying: "Now, Mr Piet Retif, this way!"

Then he started violently, and was marched off to be placed with certain of the prisoners who were the most carefully guarded.

"Did you notice anything in particular just before Anson was led off?"

said Ingleborough.

"No. Poor wretch. I'm sorry for him!"

"Keep your sorrow for a more worthy object, my lad, and mind and give that fellow a wide berth if ever he gets his liberty again."

"Which he will, of course."

"Well, perhaps so, for the Company can't give the diamond-buyer all they would like! But when he does get free, you be careful!"

"Why, what harm can he do me?"

"Can't say," said Ingleborough abruptly; "but something or another ill you may take it for granted he will do. I've been watching his face, and read what it means! Of course, he doesn't like me, for I've been fighting against him all along; but somehow he seems to hate you, and, mark my words, he'll try his best to do you a mischief! He gives you the credit of being the cause of all this trouble!"

"But I've not been!" said West.

"No; I've done the scoundrel ten times the mischief that you have, for I disliked him from the very first day we met. He was too oily for me, and I always thought that he would turn out a bad one. I'm the culprit, but he means to let me alone and to take all the change out of you!

That's all--only don't give him a chance!"

"Not I; but we shall not see much more of him, I suppose."

"What? There'll be a trial in a day or two, and I've got a pill for my gentleman."

"What do you mean--not a lead pill?"

"Tchah! Nonsense. I mean to ask for the scoundrel's wagon to be searched. I was afraid they would let him go back to it."

"The wagon? Of course," said West thoughtfully. "I had forgotten that."

The young men's eyes met as if they were trying to read each other's thoughts; but no more was said then, and the next morning West and Ingleborough were summoned to the General's wagon.