Here was a specimen of the men with whom their own big and brawny relatives had to fight--a mere lad, without a hair on his face, who ought to be at home with his mother. No wonder the Boers had gained such magnificent victories. It was nothing short of madness that such soldiers should be sent to fight against the invincible champions of the country. It was not their fault, poor fellows, for had not authentic reports reached the town showing how the British soldiers had had to be ironed and intoxicated before they could be got on board a ship, and how many had cried like children at being compelled to fight so far away from home. Therefore, when Yorke was lodged in the lock-up of the town, one woman brought a bowl of milk to the barred window, another some fruit, and a third a plate of meat and some bread, for they believed that, having come from Kimberley, he must be in a state of starvation, while many said a word or two of pity and consolation. Although he pretended not to understand their words, Yorke was touched and at the same time amused by their comments. "Poor young fellow," one said, "I don't suppose he is much younger than my Paul, though he is not half his size; they must be very hard up for soldiers when they take a lad like this." "The men who brought him in said that he was an officer," one of them said. "An officer!" the other repeated in surprise, "no wonder we beat them so easily, when they have boys like that as officers. Why, all our field cornets and officers are big men and the wisest in their districts; what chance could such a lad have against them? And if this is an officer, what must the soldiers be like?" Several times the two men on guard outside the door told the women to go away, but they soon returned. "I wonder what has become of Peter," Yorke thought to himself. "I expect he was on the look-out somewhere among the rocks this morning, and waited there till he saw me ride by. He would know that he could do nothing against four mounted men. I hope that by this time he is well on his way towards the Modder. As they say the landdrost here is a good fellow, and a brother-in-law of my friend of last night, I don't think there is any chance of harsh treatment; and by the time I have gone another stage all questions about my being a spy will have died out, and it will be supposed that I was captured in a sortie or something of that sort." At nine o'clock the key grated in the lock, and, the door opening, the two Boers on guard told him to follow them. He was conducted to a small room, where the landdrost and two or three of his friends were seated. "So you brought this man here prisoner; you caught him trying to get out of Kimberley? I hear you have a letter for me?" "Yes, mynheer, here it is!" He read it through and then passed it to his companions.