Here goes to whistle for the Boers, as the sailors do for wind." Saying this, he drew out the little mahogany case which held his flute, and coolly took the pieces and fitted them together, before crossing his legs upon the rough seat and beginning to blow, keeping up a series of the most doleful old Scotch and Irish laments, while the oxen plodded on and the police rode by the wagon side, listening and looking in vain for any sign tending to point out the fact that the flautist was a dishonest dealer in the coveted crystals which were so hard to get, but all the same keeping a keen look-out for danger in the shape of advancing Boers..