CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
BAD SHILLINGS ALWAYS COME BACK.
West stepped to his companion's side, looked out between the rough curtains of the wagon, and saw a group of mounted Boers surrounding a freshly-arrived wagon with its long team of bullocks, the black voorlooper at the head and the driver with his enormous whip on the box.
"Well," said West, after a sharp glance, "there's a fresh load of provisions, I suppose! What of it ?" "Rub your eyes, lad, and look again." "They don't want rubbing." "Well, of all the fellows! Look there, beyond those mounted men who escorted the wagon in--there where the commandant and the dismounted party are talking together." "Yes, I see where you mean; but what has it to do with us?
I don't-- yes, I do.

Why, it's Anson!" cried West excitedly.
"Anson it is! I began to think you were going blind!" "But how strange! They have taken him prisoner then.

Look here; we're not going to have him with us." "It doesn't look as if he is a prisoner," said Ingleborough; "they all seem too friendly.

I believe the scoundrel has deserted from the town and come to join the Boers.

What has old Norton been about ?" "Is it possible ?" "Oh, it's possible enough, if old Norton has been to sleep.