Now will you make a dash while you can ?" West hesitated, and duty mastered friendship and humane feeling for his companion.

He was but one, and the despatch might deal with the lives of a thousand men in peril of their lives.
"Yes, I must go!" he groaned, making for his horse; but he was too late.
For though the Boers, apparently from a feeling that they were quite sure of their prey, had advanced slowly and cautiously, each man with his rifle presented and finger on trigger, their movements showed plenty of cunning.

They had opened out so as to get round the horses, watching the young man's actions all the time, and when he at last made for his mount they were close up, and rifle-barrels bristled around, every muzzle threatening and grim.
"Throw up your hands!" came in chorus from a score of throats, and directly after the same order was given in fair English by two of the ragged, unkempt, big-bearded enemy.
West looked fiercely round like a hunted animal brought to bay by the hounds, waiting to seize the first one that sprang, and ground his teeth with rage; but he paid no heed to the men's words.
"Throw up your hands!" roared one of the men.
"Throw up your own!" said West defiantly, and then to his bitter annoyance he started on one side, for there was a flash, simultaneously a whizz close to his face, and instantly the sharp report of a rifle.
Recovering from the sudden shock to his nerves caused by his previous unbelief that the enemy would be so cowardly as to fire upon a perfectly helpless prisoner, West swung himself round to face the man who had fired at him from such close quarters that the flash of the powder had scorched his cheek.
The Boer was busily thrusting a fresh cartridge into the breech of his piece, and as he met the young man's eyes he burst out into a coarse and brutal laugh.
"Throw up your hands, then, you cursed rooinek!" he cried, "or I'll blow out your brains!" "Not if I die for it!" cried West.

"You cowardly cur!" And turning as the Boers closed him in, he continued, with bitter contempt, and speaking in their own tongue: "I suppose you are a specimen of the brave peasant farmers making a struggle for their liberty!" "You keep a civil tongue in your head, young man," growled out one of the party in English, "unless you want to feed the crows!" "You keep your cowardly gang in order first before you dictate to me!" cried West, turning upon the speaker sharply.

"Do you call it manly to fire at close quarters upon a party of two ?" "No!" said the man shortly, as he turned round and said a few angry words in the Boer jargon--words which were received by some with angry growls, while the major portion remained silent and sullen.
"You're not our cornet! Mind your own business, before you're hurt!" cried the man who had fired, taking a few steps towards the spot where West stood, and, seizing him savagely by the throat, he tried to force him to his knees.
But he tried only with one hand--his left--his right being engaged by his rifle, and to his utter astonishment the prisoner retorted by kicking his legs from under him and flinging him upon his back.
A yell of anger arose from some, and of delight from others, all looking on while the discomfited Boer sprang up with a cry of rage, cocked his rifle, and, taking quick aim, would have fired point-blank at the prisoner had not his act been anticipated by the Boer who had before spoken.