They were first in the yard, and took advantage to be the first in the stream before it was stirred up. After their bath they once more felt ready to laugh at their discomforts and woes. They had hardly supped their porridge, when a couple of German policemen came and marched them off solemnly. Outside the tronk half a dozen more stiff and wooden-looking bodyguards were drawn up, armed to the teeth with rifles, swords, and revolvers. They closed in upon our heroes without a word, merely pointing to the front as their way to march. Ned, Fred, and Clarence drew themselves up with dignity, seeing that no attempt was made to handcuff them, and dusting their clothes with their handkerchiefs, stepped out proudly in the middle of their formidable escort. Handcuffs sadly spoil the effect of dignity. They make a prisoner look too pathetic. "I wonder where these Noah's Ark Johnnies are taking us to?" said Ned. "To the court to be tried, I expect," answered Fred. "No," said Clarence. "There is some other game going on with us. Don't you see these are not the ordinary Boer bobbies? They are the president's own bodyguards." "By Jove! so they are. Perhaps old Kruger is going to interview us. I hope so, for I'd like to see the grand old humbug." "Hush! These fellows are sure to understand English. All Germans do who leave their own country." If they did understand what Ned had so rashly said, they showed no sign. All emotion seemed to have been drilled out of their big faces, as all free action had been drilled out of their tall figures. Solemnly they marched to the word of command with heads jerked up and immovable eyes. Right, left, right, left, they planted their feet as one man, without making a single wrinkle in their coats. They were for all the world exactly like exaggerated German metal soldiers set working by mechanism, and newly painted. Down through the centre of Church Street they marched, the automatic movements of the guards so infecting our heroes that they unconsciously fell into the same step after a few paces. Then only one distinct tramp could be heard, as each left or right foot crushed upon the ground. The people on the side paths watched them going along curiously. Past the grand Government buildings, with that disputed statue to Liberty on its centre tower, they strode. The enlightened burghers greatly object to this statue, as they don't believe in a woman representing freedom, and think it must either mean Her Britannic Majesty or the Virgin Mary, both highly objectionable personages in a dopper's eye. On they marched, until they reached the western end of the street, where a verandahed house stood with tall trees in front of it, and on each side of the gate a helmeted police-soldier. Then they knew where they were coming to, and felt a tremor pass over them. They were approaching the kraal of the savage and crafty tyrant chief of the Transvaal, Kruger. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. AN INTERVIEW WITH UNCLE PAUL.