He was off at a gallop, while our heroes looked after horse and man with open mouths. "What a slice of luck, Ned! Who could have expected it?" whispered Fred and Clarence, as soon as they recovered from their astonishment. Ned did not reply. Kneeling down he took off his boot, and secreted the precious bit of paper inside; then he rose up with a bright and proud light gleaming in his eyes. "It is, indeed, a piece of luck which we must all try to live up to," he said at length, in a solemn voice. "My first skirmish with a Boer has resulted in an easy victory, and it has been witnessed by the greatest hero who lives. Let us hail it as a good omen." CHAPTER SEVEN. IN JOHANNESBURG. Stephanus Groblaar did not patronise the camp. Either he was too much ashamed or too sulky to show himself so soon after his ignominious defeat. While our heroes remained awake, his distant figure could still be seen bending over the waterhole. After that frustrated and cowardly attempt to draw his knife upon Ned Romer, even Fred Weldon, who had been the most friendly disposed towards him, gave him up. Neither English nor colonial-bred Britons could take the hand of a would-be assassin. All the instincts of their race are against this, as they are against using the feet in a fight. Only a Spaniard can endorse the one weapon, and a Frenchman tolerate the other mode of getting an advantage. Spaniards stab, Frenchmen kick, and cats scratch when they quarrel; Englishmen clench their fists and strike, or grip and throw. Inspired by the charge which had been given to them by their illustrious visitor, and influenced by his timely warning, our heroes resolved to part company with Stephanus and his cousin as soon as possible. Meantime, to ward against possible treachery, they also resolved to be watchful and wary. Therefore it was agreed that, while two slept, one would keep guard over the waggon. This they did by turns faithfully until they reached Johannesburg. Stephanus came to the waggon about midnight, while Fred was on duty. He did not speak to Fred, nor did he go inside, but ordered one of the Kaffirs, whom he roused up for the purpose, to bring out a rug for him. With this he sullenly retired to the shelter of one of the wine-drays, and there he spent the night. He was taking his beating in a nasty and Boer-like spirit. In the morning he appeared at breakfast wearing a large pair of smoke-coloured sun-spectacles, and his nose considerably enlarged. He did not make any remarks about the preceding evening, and his good-natured and unobservant cousin never noticed that there was anything amiss. The boys took their cue from this sulky Dutchman, and made no allusion to it either. As they were about to inspan, a party of armed burghers came on the scene, and gave them a foretaste of what they had to expect during their stay in the Transvaal.