better to be killed by a lion than to stand up before the muzzles of a dozen rifles and be shot as a spy, while Moriarty stood smiling malignantly at my fate. It was all very vivid as the oxen bellowed softly now, and Bob whispered into my ear, his breath feeling quite hot after the chilling iciness of the night wind. "Cheer up, old Val," he said; "they won't dare to shoot you. I shall be there, and if they attempt it, and that Irishman gives the order--you know how true I can aim? I'll send a bullet right through his head, if father isn't first." I started violently and made an effort to rise; but I only succeeded in making a noise, as I looked up, to see the yellow lantern sending down its feeble light; but a lion was barking faintly in the distance, and some oxen close at hand were lowing uneasily. There was another sound, too, at the back of the wagon--that of some one climbing up--and in a wild fit of anxiety I listened for Bob's voice again. But it was only that of the Boer who had first seized me, and he spoke in a gruff but not unkindly way, as he said in his own tongue: "Hullo! What's the matter? Lion scare you?" "I've--I've been dreaming," I faltered heavily, my heart beating all the time with big, regular thumps. "Oh!--He's dreaming too. You're two brave boys to sleep like that the night before you're both to be shot for spies." "Ah!" I sighed as he dropped back heavily from the back of the wagon, "and it was all a dream. Ugh!" I shuddered. I lay still again, my mind going over the fantasy of the night, which came back so vividly, yet was so strangely mixed and absurd; but all the time Denham slept on, breathing heavily, dead to all the sorrows and horror of our unlucky situation. The night was cold--bitterly cold--and I was dreadfully wide awake, wishing now that I could sleep again, but wishing in vain. I lay and listened to the sound of talking outside, two of the Boers engaging in a conversation in which I heard the word "cold." Then there came the sound of the drawing aside of the back curtains, and a big, soft bundle was pitched in, then another. Directly afterwards two of our guard climbed in, opened one of the bundles, and spread it out on the floor beyond us. It was a great skin _karosse_, or rug, such as the Kaffirs make up of the hides of the big game. "It's a cold night," said the man who had spoken before; and, one at my head and the other at my feet, they lifted me between them on the big rug. "Now, sleepy," he said, "rouse up." But Denham was perfectly insensible in his deep sleep of exhaustion, and unconscious of what was going on as he was laid beside me. Then the second bundle was opened and thrown over us. "There," said the big Boer; "we don't want you to be too cold to stand up like men in the morning. Can you go to sleep now?" "Yes; thank you," I said hoarsely, and I lay and listened as they got out of the wagon.