As some of the men hurried away to fetch the necessary cords, I turned to one of the big Boers who held me. "Is it a lie," I said, "that my friend has been badly wounded? Is it a lie that I have been hurt?" There was a low growl for reply from one, and the other--the man who had first discovered my presence--only said, "But you are spies." "What are they all saying, Val?" said Denham coolly. "I don't seem to get on at all in this game." "They say we're spies," I replied. "Let 'em. A set of thick-headed pigs. Don't be downhearted over it all, old chap. We played our game well, and we've lost. We're prisoners; that's all. They daren't shoot us." I looked him fixedly in the eyes, but made no reply. "Well," said Denham hurriedly, "it's murder if they do. But I don't believe they will. Whatever they do, we won't show the white feather, Val. I say, shall we give 'em the National Anthem?" "Hush!" I said. "You're a gentleman; don't do anything to insult them; we're in their power." "Yes; but I want them to see that we're ready to die game. I say, Val, we've made a mess of it this time, and we might have been lying comfortably asleep over yonder." "No," I said; "we should have lain awake thinking of how to get help for our friends." "True, O Calif! so we should.--Ugh! You ugly brutes. Tie our hands behind our backs, would you?--Here, Mr Irishman, there's no need for this. We didn't serve you so." "Oh yes," said Moriarty. "Spies like to get all the news they can, and then to run away with their load." "After treacherously trying to murder the sentry on duty, and then treacherously striking down two people in the dark." "Hwhat!" cried Moriarty fiercely. "I mean you, you cowardly hound!--you disgrace to the name of Irishman!" There was the sound of a smart blow, and Denham staggered back against the men who were binding his wrists. A cheer rose from some of the fierce men around us, a murmur of disapprobation from others, as Denham recovered himself and stood upright, with his chest expanded and a look of scorn and contempt in his eyes. "Yes," he said quietly, "you are a disgrace to a great name. I am a prisoner, and my hands are tied." "Silence, spy!" cried Moriarty fiercely, and a dead silence fell. "I'll not be silent," said Denham. "Val, if we die for it, repeat my words in Dutch. But if I live I'll kill that man, or he shall kill me.--Moriarty, you're a treacherous coward and a cur, to strike a helpless, wounded man." "A treacherous coward and a cur, to strike a helpless, wounded man," I said aloud in the Boer tongue, the words seeming to come from something within me over which I had no power whatever. Moriarty, white with fury, turned upon me, but one of the two men who held me interfered, saying bluntly, "Let him talk, Captain; his tongue will soon be still."