"Lies, lies! all lies, I say. All that we demand are equal rights for the white man and kindly treatment of the black. The Boer is a brutal bully. He beats the black man, and treats him like a dog. Kruger and his gang have accumulated millions through the industry of those to whom they refuse the franchise. It is they who want war, not England; and if we refuse their challenge, then will they try to drive us out of Africa. It is not the Transvaal Republic which is in danger, but the Empire. Continental Powers, who hate us, are urging these misguided people to do what they dare not do themselves, hoping to profit took place. At length the police, as in the former by their folly and attack us when we are hampered in South Africa. Don't believe these liars, men! They betray their own country, and a good half of them are paid with Transvaal gold for doing so. Spies! Traitors, all of them. Duck them here in the fountains." Then, having thus relieved his feelings, Wilfred took the girl's hand and pushed on hurriedly; and soon they were lost to view in the crowd. But the effect of his words was immediate. The pro-Boer champions, trying to make good their cause, were not allowed speech. As quickly as they opened their mouths the mob shouted them down. Some ugly rushes were made in their direction, and they were hustled roughly. A couple of men and women, beginning to see they were in danger of being chucked, shouted for the police of the very Government they had been abusing. A body of constables forced itself through the crowd and formed a cordon round these political martyrs. They were escorted to the fringe of the mob, looking pale and nervous--anything, in fact, but heroic. And the language with which they were saluted was not such as need be set down here. Meanwhile their friends at the Column were faring badly enough. The police began to see that the temper of the mob was rising, and insisted that the speaking--or rather the attempts to speak--should stop. The orators refused, and stuck to their platform they were driven off from one side and they climbed up the other. Missiles began to fly, the crowd to growl, and some rough-and-tumble fights took place. At length the police, as in the former case, marched them away down Northumberland Avenue. The crowd which followed was so excited that the martyrs, afraid of the storm which, by their own folly, they had raised, tried to enter one of the hotels. But the porters here were prepared, and drove them back, and the wretched creatures--Scarse amongst them--were beaten to and fro like tennis balls. Finally, they managed to gain the shelter of a clubhouse, where they held an indignation meeting on their own account. But nothing on earth and above it would have convinced them that they had got just what they deserved. Brenda was in a great state of alarm for her father. But Wilfred consoled her as well as he could. "He will be all right," he said cheerfully; "the police will look after him."