Ten days after they had been moved, one of the guards, as he sauntered past Yorke, coughed, not in a natural way, but as if to call his attention. Yorke looked round with apparent carelessness, as other guards might have their eye upon him. The man passed on without looking at him, but Yorke had difficulty in restraining a shout of delight when he recognized Hans. At first he could scarcely believe his eyes, but as the man lounged away, he recognized the figure beyond the shadow of doubt. He sat down upon the ground, took out his pipe and filled it, and when Hans again came past he asked him for a light. "Where is your room, Master Yorke?" Hans asked, as he fumbled in his pocket. "It is at the other side of the house--the door nearest to the right-hand corner looking at it from here." "I shall want time to think it out, Master Yorke. I only got taken on to-day. I will speak to you again to-morrow." So, striking a match and handing it to Yorke, Hans went away. Yorke felt that great caution must be used in speaking to Hans for as a new hand he might be watched for a time to see that he did not communicate with the prisoners. He lay back on the ground, pulled his hat forward as if to shade his face, and tried to think things over. Even now he could scarcely believe it possible that Hans could have travelled all the way from the Modder to Pretoria. He knew how warmly the faithful fellow was attached to him, but not for a moment, while thinking over every conceivable way of escape, had it occurred to him that Hans would have come to his relief. Hans was a slow thinker, and he should not have given him credit for his undertaking such an enterprise; and even now that he had succeeded in making the journey and in getting himself engaged as a guard, he felt sure that he could not have the slightest idea as to what his next step should be. Getting up after a time, he went back to the room where he and eight officers slept. It had formerly been an office of some sort, and the outside door opened directly into it. Hitherto he had not examined the lock, for the palisade and the wire fences beyond it offered such impregnable obstacles, that the mere question of getting in and out of the room was of secondary importance. He now saw that there would be no great difficulty in shooting the bolt of the lock on the inside, but there were strong staples with a bar and padlock outside. These had evidently been put on only when it was decided to transform the grand-stand into a prison. His pocket-book had not been taken from him; it had a pencil attached, and he now wrote: