“He did not speak like a man whose brain has gone this afternoon,” I replied. “But let us suppose that this tale is true, what is it that you wish me to do?” “Allan, I wish you to dress up in my clothes and get away to a hiding-place which Hans and the vrouw know, leaving me here instead of you.” “Why, Marie?” I said. “Then you might get yourself shot in my place, always supposing that they mean to shoot me. Also I should certainly be caught and killed, as they would have a right to kill me for trying to escape in disguise. That is a mad plan, and I have a better. Vrouw Prinsloo, go straight to the commandant and tell him all this story. Or, if he will not listen to you, scream it out at the top of your voice so that everyone may hear, and then come back and tell us the result. Of one thing I am sure, that if you do this, even if there was any thought of my being shot tomorrow morning, it will be abandoned. You can refuse to say who told you the tale.” “Yes, please do that,” muttered Hans, “else I know one who will be shot.” “Good, I will go,” said the vrouw, and she went, the guards letting her pass after a few words which we could not hear. Half an hour later she returned and called to us to open the door. “Well?” I asked. “Well,” she said, “I have failed, nephew. Except those sentries outside the door, the commandant and all the Boers have ridden off, I know not where, taking our people with them.” “That’s odd,” I answered, “but I suppose they thought they had not enough grass for their horses, or Heaven knows what they thought. Stay now, I will do something,” and, opening the door, I called to the guards, honest fellows in their way, whom I had known in past times. “Listen, friends,” I said. “A tale has been brought to me that I am not to be taken to the big camp to have my case inquired of by the council, but am to be shot down in cold blood when I come out of this house to-morrow morning. Is that true?” “Allemachte, Englishman!” answered one of them. “Do you take us for murderers? Our orders are to lead you to the commandant wherever he may appoint, so have no fear that we shall shoot you like a Kaffir. Either you or they who told you such a story are mad.” “So I thought, friends,” I answered. “But where is the commandant and where are the others? The Vrouw Prinsloo here has been to see them, and reports that they are all gone.”