He was quite close to the cart when it moved on, and in another second he was greeted by the rough challenge of a sentry, and caught sight of the cold gleam of a rifle barrel.
"_Wie da ?_" (Who's there ?) "Friend!" he answered cheerfully, though feeling far from cheerful.
There was a pause, during which the sentry called to another man, who came up yawning, and saying something in Dutch.

Straining his ears he caught the words, "Bishop's man," and this gave him an idea.
"Who are you, Englishman ?" asked the second man gruffly, holding up a lantern to look at John, and speaking in English.
"I am the Bishop's chaplain, sir," he answered mildly, trying desperately to look like an unoffending clergyman, "and I want to get on to Pretoria with him." The man with the lantern inspected him closely.

Fortunately John wore a dark coat and a clerical-looking black felt hat; the same that Frank Muller had put a bullet through.
"He is a preacher fast enough," said the one man to the other.

"Look, he is dressed like an old crow! What did _Oom_ Kruger's pass say, Jan?
Was it two carts or one that we were to let through?
I think it was one." The other man scratched his head.
"I think it was two," he said.

He did not like to confess to his comrade that he could not read.