"I have only this little scrap," Yorke said. "It is written in a cipher, and I suppose the English general will understand. It is only a lot of figures." The Boer opened it and held it so that the light of the fires would fall upon it. "3104, 8660, 241. It is like that all the way down. Do you understand the cipher?" he asked. "As it is a military cipher, it is only the generals who would know it. These things are kept very secret, and no cipher would be told to a young officer like myself." "Why should they choose you to carry it?" "I can only suppose," Yorke said with a smile, "because they thought that I could be better spared than older officers. Besides, I am a good runner, and would bet that if I had twenty yards start none of your men would overtake me." "Perhaps not, my lad, but a rifle bullet would travel faster than you." There was a laugh among the Boers standing round, which was what Yorke had aimed at, knowing the importance of keeping them in good temper. "Well, in the morning I shall send you on to Boshof," the field cornet said. "I do not know anything of the usages of war, and whether your uniform will save your skin or not; I will leave it to others to settle. But you must be a bold young fellow to have undertaken such a job, for it is ridiculous to suppose that you could get through in that uniform, and you would probably be shot by the first of our men you met without his stopping to ask any questions. Will you give me your word that you will not try to escape to-night? If so, I will not tie you up." Two or three of the men grumbled. "I know these English officers," he said, "and am willing to take his word. Still, to prevent any risks, two of you must take it by turns to watch him." Yorke looked indifferent till he spoke to him in English, and then said, "I will give you my word of honour, sir, not to attempt to escape to-night, but I don't say that if I can get a chance afterwards I won't do so." "That is all right. I don't think you will get a chance. At any rate, I accept your word that you will remain here quietly all night." So saying, he reseated himself by the fire and began to puff at his pipe. Yorke thought it would be best to imitate his example. He had, when at the farm, taken to smoking occasionally; he did it in self-defence, for sometimes, when there were several Dutch visitors, the room was so full of smoke that he could scarcely breathe in it. He therefore took out his pipe, filled and lit it, and sat quietly down near the field cornet. He then took from his pocket a flask, which had been filled for him at the mess with whiskey, and handed it to the cornet. The Boer's eyes twinkled, and he took a long draught of it. "That is good stuff," he said, "a good deal better than they sell us at your stores."