"HANDS UP!"

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 532, 11 January 1913, Page 7

"HANDS UP!"

AN INCIDENT OF THE BOER WAR.

The coffee was passed Vound, and the Intelligence Officer, seeing an opportunity in the recent t outburst, crossed the room and sat beside the angry girl. "Where is-your brother ?" he asked.

"On the Berg waiting for daylight, where every true Burgher who is not a coward should he !" "Well, I hope that he will surrender quietly to-morrow." '

"Surrender !—.my brother become ,a 'hands-upper* ; you do not know my brother : he has fought' from the very beginning, and will fight to the bitter end. We would sooner see him dead than-?—'' .

The squardon commander had walked across to the window-; already the *olack of night was softening behind the Berg, and the great saw-edged outline of the crest stood out from fhc indefinite- haze of night. For a period the gloom in the valley deepened, and, as the night sky melted into grey grew tinged with crimson, !iay asserted" itself with that abruptness peculiar to the veldt. . The squadron commander shaded his eyes ilnd without remark cast loose his) glasses. For a moment he was intent, then ha beckoned the intelligence officer to his side. Something .was' , ipoving on the hillside. The light seemed to strengthen with Spasmodic jerks. ' Beyond the avenue a white path zig-zagged up the mountain side. • Upon the path was a horseman. He was rapidly descending, and it was now easy to see that he led as ! parc horse with'him. Tha squadron commander , turned round abruptly. Tb.3 four women had risen to their feet. They had anticipated events, and could ill conceal their agitation. In a shortbreath the orders were given—"Kingsly, you remain here and look after these ladies. Not. a soul moves to the window-side of the room. We will nab that fellow." ~ The tame Burgher and the Intelli-r gence officer proceeded to follow the squadron leader to the back entrance of the house. .

In a second the maid who had shown such spirit was at the Intelligence officer's, 'side—sh3 caught his sleeve—"He is my brother. You must not ; shoot—you must give him 'hands-up' !"

In a moment she ceased to be the steadfast, unrelenting patriot, and was a woman and sister—just such a loving, timorous woman and sister as there are many thousands in this country to-day. . .

'''Of course he will have "hand's•up' !" and the Intelligence Officer was through the door., bolting it beh'nd him. ■■'.••■

The' squadron sergeant-major was picked up*at the door, and the nearest man in hiding in the avenue warned. The order was passed round that no ona was to fire—the man was to be madi) a prisoner.' The two officers, the" tame Burgher, and the sergeant-major, with their carbines at the ready, stooped behind a rough hedgerow. {

Presently the drumming orhocfs was audible, then the sound of whistling. 'The youth was whistling' merrily in the exhilaration of day. Gaily down the path he'came, returning home after, his night of picket duty, as he had done a hundred times before. He was level with the hedge. "Hands up !" The four levelled carbines were almost at the horses' noses. They started back and 'snorted in alarm. But their,, terror was nothing in comparison" with that depicted on the face of .the Burgher. He was a boy of perhaps two-and- ' twenty, and even in the short second of the encounter the likeness, to his sisters was ridiculously apparent. Than, half of their own accord, half by an impulse of self-preserva-tion on the part of t.ioir rif.er, the horses swung round. Lying flat oiv their hcAs, tha. hoy -50J jlit satt;t.y in flight, "Yoi fro' ! Hands up !" shouted the squadron leader. '•Humlo i:j), or 1 e shc'ot !" And: he fired his weapon into the ground. I-.i't it vas no use the, , horses were novr into their stride.

''Fcol !" said the squadron commr.ndcr, as he jerked in the' holt of his carL'ine. ■ "We must, shoot"!"'

Four rifles spoke. The body lying on the nevks of the horses swayed siJcways, " and then slid to the ground, bringing one of the horses to its knees, and checking the flight of l.ctb.

"I've killed him !" and there was a ring of piteous regret|in the squadTl commander's voice, i

Wo the body over. We had 11 billed him, for the four bullets had ta'-ch effect, and each must have been a fatal wound. There he lay dead, upon the very, threshold of the home which had known him from childhood. Shot ■■ down before hid mother's eyes. We carried him in. What more could we do ? And we offered to dig a ' grave. Mother and sisters received their dead with stoical self-restraint. But as they. removed the handkerchief from the 'air young face, the youngest burst into tears.

"Oh, why did you not 'hands-up' him ■?■". came the piteous wail. —From I 'Side-Tracks and Bridie-Paths."