Part 69 (1/2)
We were now in darkness. The coffee was cold; the cakes lay untouched. We were both sunk in a deep interval of musing; but Denham broke the silence at last.
”Then we have another night of life, Val,” he remarked.
”Yes,” I replied; ”and then the end.”
”Look here,” he said thoughtfully, after he had taken up the coffee-tin and drunk; ”that Boer said that he was going over yonder to-night to fight, and that perhaps he would be where we were.”
”Yes-dead,” was my reply.
”Perhaps, Val. What do the doctors say?-'While there's life there's hope.'”
”I see no hope for us,” I said gloomily.
”I do,” Denham whispered in a low, earnest tone. ”We've been too ready to give up hope.”
I smiled sadly, stretching out my swollen legs.
”Yes, I know,” said Denham; ”but my hands are not powerless now, and I have still a knife in my pocket-the one with which I cut the reins-and it will cut these.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and I glanced at the two openings in the wagon.
”Be careful,” I whispered.
”All right; but the Boers don't understand English. Look here, Val; if the big friendly fellow is going to fight to-night, what does it mean?”
”Of course,” I replied excitedly, ”an attack upon the fort. They're going to get in when it's dark; and if they do there'll not be half of our poor fellows left by morning.”
”Couldn't we slip off as soon as it's dark, and warn them? Once we were outside the lines we might run.”
”Might run?” I said bitterly. ”I don't believe we could even stand.”
”Ah! I forgot that,” he muttered, with a groan. ”Well, nothing venture, nothing have. It'll be dark enough in a few minutes, and then I shall slip the knife under your ankles and set your legs free. When that's done you can do the same for me.”
”Suppose the Boers come and examine us?”
”We must risk that. Perhaps they'll just come and look at the cords with a lantern. We must sit quite still until they come.”
”No,” I said eagerly; ”don't let's cut the rope till they've been. I dare say they'll come for the pannikins, and perhaps that Boer has told them to bring us those rugs again.”
Chapter Forty Five.
A Damper For Our Plans.
I had hardly ceased speaking when a couple of our guards appeared at the back of the wagon, and climbed in after they had tossed in the two big rugs they had taken away when the German doctor came to examine us.
Though anxious to dart a quick glance at Denham, I dared not, for at the first glance I saw that each man was provided with a rein. Taking our tins and pa.s.sing them to two men whose rifle-barrels appeared above the back of the wagon, they returned to where we sat up and carefully examined our bonds, one of them giving a grunt and speaking to his companion as he pointed to them. They next dragged our arms roughly behind us, slipping our hands through running nooses, which they drew tight before winding the thongs round and round, securing them as firmly as ever.
”You needn't have done that,” I said angrily to the man who, while tying me up, had roused my resentment by his brutality.