Charge! | Page 6

honour of serving in Captain Eustace Moriarty's troop."
"You are Captain Eustace Moriarty?" said my father.
"I am, sor."
"Then I must tell you, sir," said my father, "that though I have taken up land here and made it my home, I claim my rights as an Englishman not to make myself a traitor by taking up arms against my Queen."
"A thraitor!" cried the captain. "Bah! That for the Queen;" and he snapped his fingers. "But ye're not asked to serve now. That can wait till ye're wanted. It's the bhoy we want, and maybe after a bit it'll be you."
"My son thinks as I do," said my father sternly.
"Does he, now?" said the captain mockingly. "Then I shall have to tache him to think as I do, and it won't take long. D'ye hear me, bhoy?"
"I hear what you say, sir," I replied. "Of course I think as my father does, and I refuse to serve against England."
"I expected it," said the man, with cool insolence. "It's what I expected from a young Saxon. But look here, me bhoy; ye've got to serrve whether ye like it or whether ye don't. What's more, ye've got to come at once. So get yer horse, and clap the saddle on. Fetch him his rifle and his cartridge-bolt, and let there be no more nonsense."
"You heard what my son said, sir," said my father haughtily. "If it were against a black enemy of the country we should both be willing."
"Didn't I tell ye it was again' a black inimy?" said the man mockingly.
"I heard you insult the Queen and her Government, sir," said my father; "and, once more, my son refuses to serve."
"The coward!--the white-livered cub!" cried the captain contemptuously.
"What!" I cried, springing forward; but my father flung his hand across my chest, and Bob rushed in past Aunt Jenny, as if to take refuge from the scene.
"Quite right, old man," said the captain, coolly stroking his beard. "And look here, bhoy whether ye like it or not, ye're a sojer now; I'm yer shuperior officer, and it's time of war. If a man strikes his shuperior officer, he's stood up with a handkerchief tied across his eyes to prevent him from winking and spoiling the men's aim, and then the firing-party does the rest."
As he spoke he made a sign, and half-a-dozen of the mounted Boers rode up.
"Sargint," he said, "the young colt's a bit fractious. Ye'll take him in hand. Fasten his hands behind him ready. Two of ye go round to the pen there and pick out the most likely horse, saddle and bridle him, and bring him here. Ye've got some green-leather thongs. Then put him upon the horse with his face to the tail, and tie his ankles underneath. It'll be a fine lesson for the bhoy in rough-riding."
The men were quick enough. Before I had even thought of trying to make my escape, two of the Boers were off their horses and made me their prisoner, while the rest of the little troop rode closer up and surrounded us.
Then other two of the men rode off behind the house, and I stood breathing hard, biting my lips, and feeling as if something hot was burning my chest as I tried hard to catch my father's averted eyes.
Just then the Irish renegade captain burst into a hearty laugh, and I wrenched myself round to look, and felt better. A minute before, I had seen Bob disappear into the house, and had mentally denounced him as a miserable little coward; but my eyes flashed now as I saw him hurry out with three rifles over his right shoulder, a bandolier belt across his left, and two more, well filled with cartridges, hanging to the barrels of the rifles.
"Bedad!" said the captain, "and he's worth fifty of his big, hulking brother! But ye're too shmall, darlint. Wait a year or two longer, and ye shall fight under me like a man."
Bob made a rush for father; but one of the Boers leaned down and caught him by the shoulder, while another snatched the rifles from his hands, and laid them across the pommel of the saddle in which he sat.
"Give up, Bob; give up," cried father sternly, as my brother began to struggle with all his might. "It is no use to fight against fate."
"Hear him now," said the captain. "He can talk sinse at times."
"Yes," said my father, "at times;" and he gave the captain a look which made him turn away his eyes.--"Val, my boy, I cannot have you exposed to the ignominy of being bound."
"Sure, no," cried the captain. "I forgot to say a wurrud about stirrup-leathers across his back if he didn't behave himself."
"Fate is against us for the present, my boy," continued my father, "and you must