At first I could only realise the fact that the darkness was intense. After a time the idea occurred that I must have been out with my troop attacking the Boers, and that a bullet had struck me diagonally on the forehead and glanced off after making the cut, which kept bleeding; but I was so stunned that a kind of veil seemed to be raised between the present and the past.

"I shall think all about it soon," I mused. "It's of no use to worry after a fall."

Then I wondered about Sandho, and how the poor beast had fared, a pang of mental agony shooting through me as I listened.

I could not hear a sound.

"He's killed," was my next thought; "for if he had been alive he would have stopped directly I fell from his back, and waited for me to remount."

I began to feel about with my hands; but instead of touching soft earth or bush I felt rough stones, wet and slimy as if coated with fine moss, and it had lately been raining. A faint musical drip, as of falling water, strengthened this notion; but I did not try to follow it out, for my head throbbed severely. So I lay still trying to rest, and gazing upward expecting to see the stars. All above, however, was black with a solid intensity that was awe-inspiring. I could see nothing; but I could feel, and became aware of another fact: I was lying among rocks in a most uncomfortable and painful position, with my head and shoulders in a niche between two pieces of stone, and my feet high above me.

"At the foot of some kopje," I remember fancying. Then my mind grew clearer—so much clearer that I felt for my handkerchief, got it out of my breast, doubled it, and bound it round my forehead to stop the bleeding. This took me some time; but the movement, painful though it was, seemed to give me more power of thinking, and I began to do more. After an effort, I managed to get my back and shoulders out of the crevice in the rocks where they were wedged. Then my legs slipped down of their own weight, and I felt myself gliding down a sharp incline. I spread out my hands to stop myself, and succeeded, bringing up against some loose stones.

"Sandho's somewhere at the bottom of this slope," I thought, and I called him by name; but I was horrified to hear my words go reverberating from me with strange, whispering echoes which died slowly away.

"How strange!" I muttered, as the intense darkness made my feeling of confusion return. "Where am I? What place is this?"

I knew I was saying these words aloud; and what followed came like an answer to my question, for from somewhere close at hand there was a deep moaning sigh. I started violently and tried to creep away; but my head began to swim with terrible giddiness on attempting to move. As this subsided a little I thrust out my hand cautiously and began to feel about, touching at the end of a few seconds something which brought back my memory with a rush. My fingers had come in contact with the tin contrivance we had used for a lamp; and, naturally enough, the touch recalled to me who had borne it, and the accident that had befallen us. Accident? No; it must have been an attack.

However, my head was clearing rapidly, and the sense of horror and pain was passing off like mist; and now I began again to feel cautiously about, but without avail, till I turned upon my hands and knees and crawled a yard or two, slipped, and clung to the rugged surface to check my descent. Then my feet went down to the full extent before they were stopped by something soft, and a thrill of satisfaction ran through me, for a well-known voice said peevishly:

"Don't—don't!—What is it?"

"Val," I cried, and my voice was caught up, and died away in whispers.

Then there was a pause, and I lay listening till, from below, came the words:

"Did any one speak?"

"Yes, yes, I did," I cried. "Where are you?"

"I—I don't know. Think I must have had a fall."

I was about to lower myself to the speaker, when a sudden thought made me turn a little over on my left side. The next moment I was clinging hard with both hands, for a stone I had touched gave way, and there was a rushing sound, silence, and then a horrible echoing splash which set my heart beating fast. In imagination I saw the loosened stone slide down to an edge below me, and bound off, to fall into the water, which I could hear lapping, sucking, and gliding about the sides of the chasm, strangely suggestive of live creatures which had been disturbed and had made a rush at the falling stone in the belief it was something they might tear and devour.

Recovering from my momentary panic, I set one hand free to search for and get out my little tin match-box. It was no easy task, under the circumstances, to get it open and strike one of the tiny tapers.

"Val, is that you?" came from just below.

"Yes; wait a moment. Hold tight," I said in a choking voice, as I rubbed the match on the bottom of the box, making a phosphorescent line of light, then another, and another, before impatiently throwing the match from me and seeing its dim light die away in the darkness.

I knew the reason why I had not got the match to light. As I opened the box again to get another, I did not insert finger and thumb till they got a good rub on my jacket to free them from the dampness caused by holding on to the wet stones. Now, as I struck, there was a sharp crackling noise, and the light flashed out, caught on, and the match burned bravely, giving me light enough to look for the tin lamp I had touched before. There it was, some little distance above me, on a terribly steep, wet slope.

No time was to be lost; so, mastering my hesitation as I thought of what was before me if I slipped, I began to climb; but, before I had drawn myself up a yard, Denham's voice rose to me, its tones full of agony and despair:

"Don't leave me, Val, old fellow!"

"Not going to," I shouted. "I'm getting the lamp."

"Ah!" came from below.

Almost before the exclamation had died away I was within reach of the fallen lamp; but just then I dislodged another loose stone, which went rolling down and plunged into the water below.

The match had burned out.

"All right," I shouted. "I'll get another."

The same business had to be gone through again. Untaught by experience, I moistened the top of the first match I took out, my fingers trembling the while with nervous dread that I would drop the box or spill the matches, when the result might be death to one, if not to both. I tried the damp match three times before throwing it away; then, taking out two together and striking them, my spirits rose as I got a light, which was passed into my left hand, and with the other I secured the lamp, which lay bottom up.

"The tallow and wick will have fallen out," I thought. No; the hard fat was in its place. Again I took out a match, shivering as I saw how rapidly it burned away. The very next moment I had laid it against the bent-down wick, which had been flattened by the fall; and it sputtered and refused to burn. All I could do till my fingers began to burn was to melt out some of the tallow and partially dry the wick. Then all was darkness again.

"Cheer up!" I cried hoarsely; "third time never fails." There was no response. I turned cold as I fumbled at the box once more; my fingers needed no moisture from the slippery stones now to make them wet, for the perspiration seemed to be oozing out of every pore.

I was again successful when I struck a match, and it burned up brightly. My heart now beat more hopefully, as one tiny strand of the cotton caught and ceased sputtering, giving forth a feeble blue flame, which I was able to coax by letting the fat it melted drain away till more and more of the wick caught and began to burn.

I dared not wait to light the second wick, but looked for a safe place to set the lamp; this I found directly, within reach of my hand. My hurried glance showed that we were in a rough tunnel or shoot, sloping down rapidly into darkness—a darkness too horrible to contemplate; and, to my despair, I could not see Denham. Then, as the sight of the light revived him, I could hear his shivering sigh.

"Where are you?" I said, trying to speak firmly.

"Just below you," came faintly.

I felt my teeth were clenched together as I asked the next question, knowing only too well what must be the answer:

"Can you see to climb up to me?"

"No," came back after a pause of a moment or two. "I'm hurt and sick. I feel as if I shall faint."

"Can you hold on till I get down to you?"

"I—I think so, old fellow," he said faintly. "I'm on a sort of shelf. But don't try—you can't do it—you'll send the loose stones down upon me. That last one grazed my head."

"But I must," I said harshly, and I remember fancying that my voice sounded savage and brutal. "I can't leave you like this."

"Climb up out of this horrible hole yourself, old fellow, and leave me."

"I won't," I shouted, so that my voice went echoing away; but as I looked up past the light it seemed to me that I could not, even if willing.

"You must," said Denham more firmly. "Climb up and call for help."

At that moment, sounding faint and distant, there was the report of a rifle; then another, and another, followed by four or five in a volley.

"The Boers are attacking," I cried. My heart sank as something seemed to say to me, "Well, if they are, what does it matter to you?"

The firing went on, and just then the wick of the lamp, of which a good deal must have been loosened by the fall, began to blaze up famously. I looked around to ascertain if I could get down to help Denham; but it seemed impossible. I saw, however, that I might lower myself a couple of feet farther, and get my heels in a transverse crack in the rock, where I could check myself and perhaps afford some help to a climber.

"Look here, Denham," I shouted out as if I had been running, "I can help you if you can climb up here. You must pluck up and try."

He muttered, with a low groan:

"Don't talk like that, old chap. I've got the pluck, but feel as if I haven't got the power. If I stir I shall go down into that awful pool, and then—Oh dear, it's very horrible to die like a rat in a flooded hole!"

"Hold your tongue, you idiot!" I shouted, in a rage. "Who's going to die? Look here; I can't get down to you, so I must climb out and fetch help. I'll go if you'll swear you'll sit fast and be patient, even if the light goes out."

There was no answer.

"Denham, old fellow, do you hear me?" I cried, with a thrill of horror running through me as I imagined he had fainted, and that the next moment I should hear a sullen splash.

"Yes, I hear you," he said. "I'll try. It's all right. But why don't you shout?"

"No one could hear me, even if that firing was not going on," I said. Looking upwards, I felt that the only chance was to try; but I was almost certain that I should slip, fall, and most likely carry my poor friend with me. The flickering light made the rocks above appear as if in motion; and, as I stared up wildly, the various projections looked as if a touch would send them rushing down. Then I uttered a gasp and tried to shout, but my voice failed. Was I deceiving myself? Almost within reach was a rope hanging down, close to the wall of the shaft on my right. Then I could speak again.

"Hurrah!" I shouted. "Here's help, Denham. Hold on; some one's letting down a rope. Ahoy, there! swing it more into the middle."

Echoes were the only answer. Almost in despair, I crept sideways, and made a frantic dash just as I felt I was slipping, and a stone gave way beneath my feet. There I hung, flat upon the rock, listening to a couple of heavy splashes, but with the rope tight in my grasp as if my fingers had suddenly become of steel. I could not speak again for a few minutes; but at last, as the echoes of the splashes died out, the words came:

"All right, Denham?" A horrible pause followed; then, with a gasp:

"Yes—all right—yes—I thought it was all over then."



CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

THE USE OF MUSCLES.

Some one wrote, "Circumstances alter cases." Everybody knows how true that is, and how often we have illustrations in our own lives. Here is one: to catch hold of a rope after jumping to it is wonderfully easy, and in our young days the sensation of swinging to and fro in a sort of bird-like flight through the air is delightful—that is to say, if the ground is so near that we can drop on our feet at any moment; there is no thought of danger as we feel perfect confidence in our power to hold on. It is a gymnastic exercise. But change the scene: be hanging at the end of the same rope, with the knowledge that a friend and comrade is in deadly peril, and that, though resting against a rocky slope which gives you foothold and relieves the strain on your muscles, there is beneath you a horrible chasm full of black water, hidden by the darkness, but lapping and whispering as if waiting to receive the unfortunate. It is then that the nerves weaken and begin to communicate with and paralyse the muscles, unless there is sufficient strength of mind to counteract the horror, setting fear at defiance.

The best thing under these circumstances is to get the body to work, and make brain take the second place. In other words, act and don't think.

I must confess that my endeavours during those perilous moments were quite involuntary; for it was in a kind of desperation that I got my toes upon a solid piece of the slippery rock and pressed myself against the steep slope for a few moments, listening to the firing, some of which sounded close, some more distant. Then, shouting to Denham to hold on, I glanced at the lamp, which was flaring bravely and giving a good light, but only at the expense of the rapidly melting fat. The next minute I was climbing as quickly as I could by the rope, and shuddering as I heard stone after stone go down, any one of which I knew might crash full upon Denham.

There was no time to think—I was too hard at work; and, to my surprise, I found myself just beneath the long bridge-like piece of stone which had been laid across the opening to the shaft; while, by holding on to the rope with one hand and, reaching up the other to grasp the stone, I could see by the light which rose from below—reflected from the glistening wall, for the lamp was out of sight—that the rope was one of the strong tethering-reins, fastened round the stone as if for the purpose of lowering a bucket.

The next minute I was seated on the stone, with my feet resting on the side of the shaft-hole, and drawing up the raw-hide rope hand over hand. After pulling up some feet of it I came upon a knot which felt secure, and I then hauled again till I came upon another, also well made. With the rope gathering in rings about my knees and behind me, I kept hauling till I came to knot after knot, all quite firm. I found that the rope was dripping with water, and knew that it had been just drawn out of the pool below. The end of the rope came to hand directly; and, with trembling fingers, my first act was to tie a knot a few inches up before doubling the strong raw-hide plait and tying it again in a loop, which I tested, and found I could easily slip it over my head and pass my arras through so as to get it beneath the armpits.

I had the rope off again in a few seconds, held it ready, and shouted down to Denham, who had been perfectly still.

"Now then," I cried; "can you hear what I say?"

"Yes," came in a strange, hollow tone.

"Look out! I'm going to lower you a rope with a loop all ready tied. Slip it over your head and under your arms."

"Ah!" he said softly; and, as I rapidly lowered down the rope, though the tone seemed only like an expiration of the breath, it yet sounded firmer than that "Yes" of a few moments before.

"I can't see, old fellow," I cried, when I had paid out what I thought must be enough; "but this ought to be near you now. Can you see it?"

"Yes; but it is a dozen feet too high," he replied. "It won't reach me."

"Yes, it will," I roared, for there was a despairing tone in those last words. "Plenty more. Look out!"

I lowered away, and then shouted again:

"That enough?"

"Yes," he said, with a little more spirit in his tone; "it's long enough, but quite out of my reach—a couple of yards away, and I dare not move."

"I'll swing it to and fro till it comes close. Look out! Here goes."

I began to swing the rope; and as it went to and fro it sent small stones rattling down and then splashing into the water, making me shiver. But they evidently fell clear of Denham, who sent a thrill of encouragement through me when he now spoke more cheerily.

"That's right," he said, and his words were repeated by the echoes. "A little more—a little more. No. Harder. It keeps catching among the stones. Give a good swing."

I did as he told me, and then nearly let go, for he uttered a wild cry, almost a shriek. The next moment there was a peculiar rattling sound; the lamp flashed out brilliantly and lighted up the shaft; there was a sharp hiss, followed by a splash, and then all was in darkness.

"Denham!" I yelled, and I let the rest of the rope run through my hands till it could hang taut, meaning to slide down it and go to his assistance, for I was sure that all depended upon me now. I was already changing my position, when—my sinking heart, which seemed to suggest that I was about to descend to certain death, giving a sudden bound, and I felt choking—Denham spoke again.

"I couldn't stop the lamp," he said; "the rope caught it and knocked it off the ledge; but I've got hold."

"Hurrah!"

I suppose I shouted that word, but it came out involuntarily. Then I listened, my heart beating painfully, for I could hear the poor fellow moving now, but, as it seemed, sending stone after stone rolling and splashing into the water.

However, nerved into action again, I did as he bade me, all the time fearing it was too late, for he shouted hoarsely:

"Pull up, Val—pull! I'm going down."

My hands darted one over the other, the slack seeming endless as I heard a low rushing sound mingled with the splashing of falling stones. Then there was a sharp jerk at my wrists, and the rope began to glide through my hands till I let one leg drop from where my foot rested against the edge of the shaft-mouth, and quick as thought flung it round the rope so that my foot and ankle formed a check; with the result that I was nearly jerked off my seat before the rope was stopped.

"Ah!" came from below, and I heard no falling of stones now; but there was a splashing and dripping sound which for the moment I did not understand. Once more I thought all was over, for the rope seemed to slacken; but hope came again.

"Pull up steadily," came in firmer tones; and, though I could not see, I supposed that Denham had drawn his feet from the water and was trying to climb up the rope. I knew it was so directly, for he spoke.

"I've got the rope well under my arms," he panted out, "and if you keep hauling gently, I think perhaps I can climb up the side; but you must be ready for a slip. Can you pass it round anything?"

"Yes," I said; and as the rope was eased I got both legs back into their position again, thus hindering my power of hauling dreadfully, but guarding against the rope being dragged down again rapidly by passing it over my right leg and under the left.

"Are you sure you can hold on if I slip?" said Denham now.

"Yes, if you come slowly. The rope's strong enough, and I'll get it up a yard at a time, so that's all the distance you can pull."

"Ah!" he cried; "then I can use both hands, and climb with more confidence. Now then, I'm coming up."

"Ready!" I shouted; and I toiled on with the perspiration moistening my hands as I steadily hauled with my right and left alternately, gaining a foot with one and making it secure over and under my legs with the other. All the while I could hear him painfully climbing as if gaining confidence with every yard he came nearer the surface.

"Now rest," he said, and I could hear him breathing hard.

Stones had fallen again and again as he climbed; but I was getting accustomed to their rattle and sullen plunge, for so long as the rope proved true they were robbed of their terrible meaning. Just, however, as my poor comrade said he meant to take a rest, there was another sharp jerk which told that his foothold had given way, and for a moment or two I was wondering whether I could hold on, as I listened to the falling of many stones. Once more he gained a good footing, and from where he half-hung, half-lay, he began to talk slowly about his position.

"It's like climbing up the side of a house built of loose stones," he said in a low tone; "but I mean to do it now if you can keep hold of the rope firmly."

"I can," I said.

"Ah! It's a horrible place, Val; but you give me confidence. Now then, I'm rested. Can you haul up more quickly? I want to get it done?"

"No," I said quietly; "I can only just make the rope safe."

"Very well. Go on as you like. There, I'm going to begin."

"Go on," I said; and once more the painful climb went on, with the stones falling and splashing, and the sound of Denham's breath at times coming to my ears in sobs which seemed terribly loud. It did not last many minutes; but no more agony could have been condensed into hours, and no hours could have seemed longer than the interval during which I strove to save my companion from death.

However, all things come to an end; and at last, when I was nervously on the qui vive for another slip, and just when Denham seemed to be creeping painfully up, though still many feet below, I suddenly felt one of his hands touch my ankle, and the other get a good grip of the rope where it lay cutting into my leg. Then I heard his feet grating and scraping against the side, and my heart leaped as he threw himself on his side away from the mouth of the hole, and lay perfectly still.

"Ah!" I cried; "at last!" and, freeing my legs from the rope, I moved painfully after him; but at the first attempt I felt as if the darkness was lighting up, flashes played about my eyes, there was a horrible swinging round of everything in my head, and I sank down, crawled aside a little way instinctively to get from the shaft-mouth, and then for a few moments all was blank. Not more than a few moments, however, for Denham roused me by speaking.

"Is anything the matter?" he said.

"Matter?" I replied, as the absurdity of his question seemed to surprise me. "Oh no, nothing at all the matter, only that my head feels as if it had been crushed by a stone, and we had just saved ourselves from the most terrible death that could have come to two poor wretches who want to live. It's very comic altogether—isn't it?"

Denham sat in silence, and we could hear the firing still going on. At last he spoke with a low, subdued voice.

"Yes," he said, "we have escaped from a horrible death. Val, old fellow, I shall never forget this. But don't let us talk about it. Let us talk about who did it. Some one must have struck at us and knocked us down that hole."

"Yes," I said; "and there's only one 'some one' who could have done it."

"That renegade Irishman?"

"Yes," I replied. "It seems like this: he couldn't have got away, but must have been in hiding here. He couldn't escape the watchfulness of the sentries, I suppose."

"No; and he must have managed to get that rope to let himself down from the walls."

"To let himself down into a place where he could hide, I think," was my reply.

"For both purposes. But what a place to hide in!" said Denham, with a shudder. "He could not have known what he was doing, or he would not have gone down."

"I believe he went down and was afraid to stay. Of course he was hiding somewhere here when we came along with the light."

"And then struck us down. Are you much hurt?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I forgot all about it for the time in the excitement of trying to escape. How are you?"

"My head hurts me badly now. I believe I was struck with a heavy stone."

"Of course. That was the wretch's trick, and how he served poor Sam Wren. Here, let's go to the hospital. I feel as if I want to see the doctor."

"Yes," said Denham faintly. "I hope he has no more wounded after all this firing."

Denham rose to his knees in the darkness, and I did the same, bringing on the giddy feeling once more, so that I was glad to lean against the wall of the great passage.

"What is the matter?" said my companion.

"Not much; only a bit dizzy," I replied; "and my legs feel so awfully stiff and strained that I can hardly stand."

"My head swims too," said Denham. "I am glad to lean against the wall. Ah! Look! here is some one coming with a light."

I uttered a sigh of relief, and then, taking a good deep breath, I gave a hail which brought half-a-dozen men to us, headed by Sergeant Briggs, who uttered an ejaculation of surprise as he held up the wagon lantern he carried and let the light fall on our faces.

"Why, you gents haven't run up against that savage sham Paddy, have you?" he cried.

"Yes, Sergeant," said Denham, speaking faintly; "and he got the better of us."

"He has, sir, and no mistake."

"Have you caught him, Briggs?" I asked anxiously.

"No, my lad; I only wish we had. I never saw such shots as our men are! Wasted no end of cartridges, and not one of 'em hit. Did nothing but draw the enemy's fire, and they have been answering in the dark. All waste."

"But Moriarty?" asked Denham.

"Moriarty!" said the Sergeant scornfully. "I'm Morihearty well sick of him, sir. It's all easy enough to see now. Instead of getting away, as we thought, after hammering poor Sam Wren with a stone, my gentleman's been in hiding."

"Yes," I said.

"Yes it is, my lad. Then he's been sneaking about in the dark, going about among the men like a sarpent, and then among the horses, helping himself to the reins with his knife."

"To join together and make a rope to let himself down from the wall," I said.

"That's right, my lad—right as right; and all our chaps asleep, I suppose—bless 'em! They ought to be ashamed of theirselves. There was quite a dozen nice noo reins missing, and half of 'em gone for ever."

"Not quite, Sergeant," said Denham; "take your light and look carefully down yonder."

The Sergeant stared, but did as he was told, holding the lantern low down by the crossing-stone.

"Well, I am blessed!" he cried. "Here, one of you, come and loosen this knot and coil the ropes up carefully.—But, I say, Mr Denham, how did they come there?"

Denham told him briefly of our adventure, and of what we surmised.

He whistled softly, and then said, "Why, I wonder you're both alive. You do both look half-dead, gentlemen; and no wonder. This accounts for one lot, though. The others were tied together and one end made fast to a big stone—a loose one atop of the wall. He must have slid down there and got away. I never saw such sentries as we've got. All those cartridges fired away, and not one to hit. Why, they ought to have pumped him so full of lead that he couldn't run. Run? No; so that he couldn't walk. But you two must come to the Colonel and let him know."

"No, no! Take us to Dr Duncombe," said Denham.

"Afterwards, sir."

"Then you must carry me," said Denham, with a groan.

"Right, sir.—Here, two of you, sling your rifles and dandy-chair your officer to the Colonel's quarters. Two more of you serve young Moray same way."

"No," I said, making an effort. "One man give me his arm, and I'll try to walk."

"So will I," said Denham, making an effort. "That's right, Val; we won't go into hospital, only let the doctor stick a bit or two of plaster about our heads for ornament. Now then, give me an arm."

The result was that we mastered our suffering, and were led by the Sergeant's patrol to the officers' rough quarters. The first thing the Colonel did was to summon the doctor, who saw to our injuries, while Denham unburdened himself of our adventures, my head throbbing so that I could not have given a connected narrative had I tried.

Denham protested stoutly afterwards that there was no need for the doctor's proposal that we should be sent to the hospital to be carried into effect, and appealed to the Colonel.

"Look at us both, sir," he said. "Don't you think that after a good night's sleep we shall both be fit for duty in the morning?"

"Well, Mr Denham, to speak candidly," was the reply, "you both look as dilapidated as you can possibly be; so you had better obey the doctor's orders. I give you both up for the present."

Denham groaned, and I felt very glad when a couple of the Sergeant's guard clasped wrists to make, me a seat; and as soon as I had passed my arms over their shoulders their officer gave the word, and we were both marched off to the sheltered hospital, where I was soon after plunged in a heavy stupor, full of dreams about falling down black pits, swinging spider-like, at the end of ropes which I somehow spun by drawing long threads of my brains out of a hole in the back of my head, something after the fashion of a silkworm making a cocoon.

Then complete insensibility came on, and I don't remember anything. But on the day following Denham and I lay pretty close together, talking, and looking up at the sky just above, one of the wagon-tilt curtains being thrown back.



CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

A HOSPITAL VISITOR.

"Hang being in hospital!" Denham said over and over again. "I seem to be always in hospital. There never was such an unlucky beggar."

I sighed deeply.

"It is miserable work," I said.

"Yes; and it seems so absurd," said Denham. "There's something wrong about it."

"Of course," I said; "we're wounded, and suffering from the shock of what we've gone through."

"Gammon!" said Denham. "That wouldn't knock us up as it has. We both got awful toppers on the skull; but that wouldn't have made us so groggy on the legs that we couldn't stand."

"Oh, that's the weakness," I replied.

"My grandmother! It's your weakness to say so. We're made of too good stuff for that. Why, you were as bad as I was when the hospital orderly washed us. Bah! How I do hate being washed by a man!"

"Better than nothing," I said. "We can't have women-nurses."

"No," said Denham. "But what was I saying when you interrupted so rudely? Really, Val Moray, I shall report your behaviour to the Colonel. You're not respectful to your officer. You're always forgetting that you are a private."

"Always," I replied, with what was, I fear, a very pitiful smile, for my companion looked at me very sympathetically and shook his head.

"Poor old chap!" he said; "I am sorry for you. There, he shall be disrespectful to his officer when he isn't on duty. I say, old chap, I wish you and I were far away on the veldt shooting lions again. It's far better fun than fighting wild Boers."

"What a poor old joke!" I said.

"Best I can do under these untoward circumstances, dear boy," he said. "Yes, it's a 'wusser.' I wish I could say something good that would make you laugh. But to 'return to our muttons,' as the French say. About being so weak. You and I have no business to shut up like a couple of rickety two-foot rules when we are set up on end. It's disgusting, and I'm sure it's old Duncombe's fault."

"No, you're not," I said.

"Well, I say I am, just by way of argument. It's all wrong, and I've been lying here and thinking out the reason. I've got it."

"I got it without any thinking out at all," I said.

"Don't talk so, private. Listen. Now, look here, it's all Duncombe's fault."

"That we're alive?" I said.

"Pooh! Nonsense! It's that anti-febrile tonic, as he calls it. It's my firm belief that he hadn't the right sort of medicine with him, and he has fudged up something to make shift with."

"What nonsense!" I said.

"It's a fact, sir, and I'll prove it. Now then, where are we hurt?"

"Our heads principally, of course."

"That's right, my boy. Then oughtn't he to have given us something that would have gone straight to our heads?"

"I don't know," I said wearily.

"Yes, you do, stupid; I'm telling you. He ought to have given us something that affected our heads, instead of which he has given us physic that has gone to our legs. Now, don't deny it, for I watched you only this morning, and yours doubled up as badly as mine did. You looked just like a young nipper learning to walk."

I laughed slightly.

"No, no, don't do that," cried my companion in misfortune.

"You were wishing just now that you could make me laugh," I said, by way of protest.

"Yes, old chap; but I didn't know then what the consequences would be. It makes you look awful. I say, don't do it again, or I shall grow horribly low-spirited. You did get knocked about. I say, though, do I look as bad as you do?"

"I believe you look ten times worse," I said, trying to be cheerful and to do something in the way of retort.

"No, no; but seriously, do I look very bad?"

"Awfully!" I said.

"Oh, I say! Come, now, how do I look?"

"Well, there's all the skin off your nose, where you scratched against the rock."

"Ye-es," he said, patting his nose tenderly; "but it's scaling over nicely. I say, what a good job I didn't break the bridge!"

"It was indeed," I said.

"Well, what else?"

"Your eyes look as if you'd been having a big fight with the bully of the school."

"Are they still so very much swollen up?"

"More than ever," I said, in comforting tones.

"But they're not black?"

"No; only purple and yellow and green."

"Val," he cried passionately, "if you go on like that I'll sit up and punch your head."

"You can't," I replied.

"No, you coward! Oh, if I only could! It's taking a mean advantage of a fellow. But never mind; I'm going to hear it all. What else?"

"I won't tell you any more," I replied.

"You shall. Tell me at once."

"You don't want to know about that place on the top of your head, just above your forehead, where you are so fond of parting your hair?"

"Yes, I do. I say, does it look so very bad?"

"Shocking. He has crossed the strips of sticking-plaster over and over, and across and across, till it looks just like a white star."

"Oh dear," he groaned, "how horrid! I say, though, has he cut the hair in front very short?"

"Well, not so short as he could have done it with a razor."

"Val!" he shouted. "It's too bad."

"Yes," I said; "it looks dreadful."

"No, I mean of you; and if you go on like that again we shall quarrel."

"Let's change the conversation, then," I said. "I say, oughtn't old Briggs to have been here by now?"

"I don't know; but you oughtn't to give a poor weak fellow such a slanging as that."

"I say," I said, "you wished we were up the veldt shooting lions."

"So I do," replied Denham. "Don't you?"

"No. I wish you and I were at my home, with old Aunt Jenny to nurse and feed us up with beef-tea and jelly, and eggs beaten up in new milk, and plenty of tea and cream and—"

"Val! Val, old chap! don't—don't," cried Denham; "it's maddening. Why, we should have feather-beds and beautiful clean sheets."

"That we should," I said, with a sigh; "and—Ah! here's old Briggs."

"Morning, gents," said the Sergeant, pulling back the tilt curtain after entering. "Hope you're both better."

"Yes, ever so much, Sergeant," cried Denham. "Here, come and sit down. Light your pipe and smoke."

"What about the doctor, sir?" said Briggs dubiously.

"Won't be here for an hour. I'll give you leave. Fill and light up."

The Sergeant obeyed orders willingly.

"Now then," said Denham, "talk away. I want to know exactly how matters stand since yesterday."

"All right, sir," said the Sergeant, carefully crushing out the match he had struck, as he smoked away.

"Well, go on," said Denham impatiently. "You said yesterday that things were as bad as they could possibly be."

"I did, sir."

"Well, how are they now?"

"Worse. Ever so much worse."

"What do you mean, you jolly old muddler?" cried Denham, rousing up and looking brighter than he had been since he came under the doctor's hands.

"What I say, sir," replied the Sergeant, staring. "Things are ever so much worse."

"Val," cried Denham, turning to me, "poor old Briggs has had so much to do with that scoundrel Moriarty that he has caught his complaint."

"I beg pardon, sir," growled the Sergeant stiffly; "I've always been faithful to Her Majesty the Queen."

"Of course you have, Sergeant."

"Beg pardon, sir. You said I'd caught his complaint, meaning I was turning renegade."

"Nothing of the kind; but you have caught his national complaint, for there you go again—blundering. Can't you see?"

"No, sir," said the Sergeant, drawing himself up stiffer than ever.

"Then you ought to. Blundering—making bulls. If the state of affairs was as bad as it could be yesterday, how can it be worse to-day?"

The Sergeant scratched his head, and his countenance relaxed.

"Oh!" he said thoughtfully, "of course. I didn't see that at first, gentlemen."

"Never mind, so long as you see it now. But go ahead, Briggs. You can't think what it is to be lying here in hospital, with fighting going on all round, and only able to get scraps of news now and then."

The Sergeant chuckled.

"Here, I don't see anything to laugh at in that," cried Denham, frowning. "Do you find it funny?"

"I just do, sir. Think of you talking like that to me? Why, twice over when I was in the Dragoons I was bowled over and had to go into hospital, up north there, in Egypt. Thirsty, gentlemen? I was thirsty, double thirsty, in the nasty sandy country—thirsty for want of water, and twice as thirsty to get to know how things were going on. That's why I always come, when I'm off duty, to tell you gentlemen all I can."

"There, Val," cried Denham, beaming. "Didn't I always say that old Briggs was a brick?"

"I don't remember," I replied.

"Well, I always meant to.—Now then, Sergeant, go ahead."

"Nay! I don't want to damp your spirits, sir, seeing how bad you are."

"I'm not bad, Sergeant; neither is Moray. We're getting better fast, and news spurs us on to get better as fast as we can. Now then, don't make us worse by keeping us in suspense. Tell us the worst news at once."

"That's soon done, sir. These Doppies, as they call 'em—these Boers— shoot horribly well."

"Yes," sighed Denham; "they've had so much practice at game."

"They've got so close in now, with their wagons to hide behind, that I'm blessed if it's safe for a sentry to show his head anywhere."

"But our fellows have got stone walls to keep behind, and they ought by now to shoot as well as the Boers," I said.

"That's quite right, Mr Moray," cried the Sergeant, angrily puffing at his pipe; "they ought to, but they don't—not by a long way. Every time they use a cartridge there ought to be one Doppie disabled and sent to the rear. I keep on telling them this fort isn't Purfleet Magazine nor Woolwich Arsenal; but it's no good."

"But, Sergeant," cried Denham anxiously, "you don't mean to say that we're running out of cartridges?"

"But I do mean to say it, sir; and the time isn't so very far off when we shall either have to hang out the white flag—"

"What!" cried Denham, dragging himself up into a sitting position. "Never!"

"Or," continued the Sergeant emphatically, "make a sortie and give the beggars cold steel."

"Ah! that sounds better," cried Denham, dropping back upon his rough pillow. "That's what we shall have to do."

"Right, sir," cried the Sergeant. "Cold steel's the thing. I've always been a cavalry man, and I've seen a bit of service before I came into the Light Horse as drill-sergeant and general trainer. I've been through a good deal, and learned a good deal; and I tell you two young men that many a time in a fight I've felt wild sitting on horseback here, and trotting off there, dismounting to rest our horses; finding ourselves under fire again, and cantering off somewhere else—into a valley, behind a hill, or to the shelter of a wood, because our time hadn't come—and the infantry working away all the while. I'm not going to run down the cavalry; they're splendid in war when they can get their chance to come to close quarters. You see, we haven't done much with our swords, for the Doppies won't stand a charge. Where we've had them has been dismounted, as riflemen, and that's what our trouble is now. We can't get at the enemy; what we want is a regiment of foot with the bayonet. Just a steady advance under such cover as they could find, and then a sharp run in with a good old British cheer, and the Doppies would begin to run. Then we ought to be loosed at them, and every blessed Boer among them would make up his mind that it was quite time he went home to see how his crops are getting on."

"Yes, Sergeant," said Denham gravely; "that's exactly the way to do it, and that's what people at home are saying. But we're shut up here, ammunition is failing, and we have no regiment of foot to give the brutes the cold steel and make them run; so what's the best thing to do under the circumstances?"



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

THE SERGEANT'S NOTION.

"Ah!" said the Sergeant, tapping the ashes out of his pipe and refilling it; "that's a bit of a puzzle, sir."

"Hang out the white flag?" cried Denham bitterly.

"No, sir," cried the Sergeant fiercely.

"What then?" I said.

"What then, sir?" said Briggs fiercely. "We've got plenty of pluck and lots of fight in the boys."

"Yes," said Denham, with his eyes flashing. "Plenty of prime beef and good fresh water, Briggs; but scarcely any cartridges."

"That's right, sir; and so I took the liberty, when I got a chance, of saying a word to the Colonel."

"What about?"

"The Doppies' ammunition-wagons, sir."

"Ah!" cried Denham, rising to his elbow. "I ventured to say, sir, that the young officer as brought in our supply of provisions would have laid himself flat down on the top o' the wall and watched with his glass till he had made out where the best spot was, and then after dark he'd have gone out and made a try to capture one of the ammunition-wagons, and brought it in."

"Impossible, Sergeant," said Denham.

"Bah! That word isn't in a soldier's dictionary, sir. You'd have done it if you'd been well enough."

"But the cartridges mightn't fit our rifles, Sergeant."

"Mightn't, sir; but they might. Then, if the first lot didn't, you'd have gone again and again till you had got the right sort. If none of 'em was the right sort, why, you'd ha' said, 'There's more ways of killing a cat than hanging it,' and gone on another plan."

"What other plan?" I said sharply. "There is no other plan."

"Isn't there?" said the Sergeant, grinning. "They've got one wagon that I can swear to, having made it out through the glass Mr Denham lent me, full of spare rifles of the men put out of action."

"Of course, of course," cried Denham. "Oh dear! oh dear!" he groaned, falling back again with a pitiful look in his eyes. "I'm lying here, completely done for. Why can't that doctor put us right?"

The Sergeant smoked on for a few minutes, looking fiercer than ever.

"Where's Sam Wren, sir?" he said suddenly.

"He was fretting so much last night at being kept in hospital," I replied, "that the doctor said he might rejoin his troop."

"Glad of that. He's one of our best shots. But what's gone of your blacky, Mr Moray?"

"Joeboy? I don't know," I said. "Isn't he with the horses? Oh, of course he'd be looking after mine."

"He ain't, then," said the Sergeant.

"What!" I cried excitedly; "then what about my horse? I've been lying here thinking of nothing but myself. I ought to have seen to him."

"Couldn't," said the Sergeant dryly. "But he's all right."

"Are you sure?" I cried.

The Sergeant nodded. "I saw to him myself. I like that horse."

"Oh Sergeant!" I said, with a feeling of relief. "But what about Joeboy? I did wonder once why he had not been to see me."

"I didn't look after him, sir," said the Sergeant. "He's a sort of free-lancer, and not under orders."

"But when did you see him last?" I asked.

"Well, I'm a bit puzzled about that. I say, hear that?"

"Hear them? Yes, of course," said Denham angrily. "The brutes! The cowards! Oh, if I were only well!"

"Oh, let 'em alone, sir," said the Sergeant coolly as, beginning with a few scattered shots, the firing outside had rapidly increased. "They're doing no harm. Do you know what it is?"

"Our poor fellows exposing themselves thoughtlessly, I suppose," said Denham bitterly.

"Only their hats, sir. It's about the only pleasure the poor lads have. It's a game they have for pennies. Some one invented it yesterday. Six of 'em play, and put on a penny each. Each game lasts five minutes, and the players put their hats upon the top of a stone. Then the man who has most bullets through his hat takes the pool."

"What folly!" said Denham fretfully.

"Well, as I told them, sir, it isn't good for their hats; but, as they said, it wastes the Doppies' cartridges, and pleases the lads to make fools of 'em. You can hear them cheer sometimes when a hat is suddenly pulled down. They think they've killed a man—bless 'em! They're very nice people."

"But, Sergeant, you were telling me about Joeboy," I said. "Can't you think when you saw him last?"

"Not exactly. I've been trying to think it out, because I expected you'd be asking about him. It strikes me that the last I saw of him was the night I was going the rounds after the search for that Irish prisoner. Perhaps he's tired of being shut up?"

"No," I said emphatically.

"Those blacks are men who are very fond of running wild."

"Joeboy wouldn't forsake me, Sergeant," I said impressively.

"Perhaps you're right. He always did seem very fond of you—never happy unless he was at your heels; but he hasn't been hanging about the hospital, you see. It looks like as if that Irishman had given him a crack on the head too, and pitched him down one of the mine-holes."

"Oh no; horrible!" I said.

"Glad you take it that way," said Briggs grimly, "because it would be bad for the water. Well, there's only two other things I can think of just now. One's that he might have been shot by the enemy when driving in the cattle."

"Is it possible?" I said, in alarm.

"Well, yes, it's possible," said the Sergeant; "but I didn't hear any one hint at such a thing happening."

"Oh, surely the poor fellow hasn't come to his end like that! Here, what was your other idea?"

"I thought that, being a keen, watchful sort of fellow, perhaps he might have caught sight of our prisoner escaping."

"Ah!" I ejaculated.

"Yes; and knowing what I do of my gentleman, it seemed likely that he might have followed him just to see that he didn't get into more mischief, particularly if he saw him upset you two."

"No, no; he couldn't. We saw no sign of him," I said excitedly.—"Did you, Denham?"

"Who could see a fellow like that in the dark?" cried Denham peevishly.

"It is possible that, knowing what he did of Moriarty's treatment of me, he may have felt that he had a kind of feud with him, and watched him."

"For a chance to say something to him with one of those spears he carried," said Denham, suddenly growing interested in our remarks.

"Oh no. I don't think he would use his assagai except in an emergency."

"That would be an emergency," said the Sergeant. "I've thought it out over my pipe, and this is what I make of it: he has followed Master Moriarty, and I expect that we shall never hear of him again."

"What! Joeboy?" I cried.

"No; Master Moriarty."

"But that would be murder—assassination," I cried.

"You can use what fine words you like over it," said the Sergeant gruffly; "but I call it, at a time like this, war; and when Mr Joe Black comes back—as I expect he will, soon—and you ask him, he'll say he was only fighting for his master; and that's you."

I was silenced for the moment, though my ideas were quite opposed to the Sergeant's theory.

But Denham spoke out at once.

"That's all very well, Sergeant," he said, "but Mr Moray's black boy is about as savage over his ideas of justice as he is over his ideas of decency in dress. He looks upon this man as an enemy, and his master's enemy; and if he overtakes Moriarty he won't have a bit of scruple about sticking his spear through him."

"And serve him jolly well right, sir."

"No, no; that won't do," said Denham.

"Not at all," I cried, recovering my balance a little.

"But isn't he a renegade, sir?" said the Sergeant.

"We call him so," replied Denham.

"And didn't he attack you two and try to murder you, sir, just as he did poor Sam Wren?"

"Yes, I grant all that, Sergeant; but we're not savages. Now, suppose you had gone in chase of this man, and say you had caught him. Would you have put your revolver to his head and blown out his brains?"

"That ain't a fair question, sir," said the Sergeant gruffly; "and all I've got to say is, that I'm very glad, knowing what I do, that I wasn't in pursuit of him, sword in hand."

"You mean to say that you would have cut him down?" I cried.

"I don't mean to say anything at all, Mr Private Moray, only that I've got my feelings as a soldier towards cowards. There, I won't say another word."

"Then I'll speak for you," said Denham. "You wouldn't have cut the scoundrel down, nor shot him, but you'd have done your duty as trained soldiers do. You'd have taken him prisoner, and brought him in to the Colonel."

"And he'd have had him put up against the nearest wall before a dozen rifles and shot for a murderous traitor, sir."

"But not without a court-martial first, Briggs," said Denham sternly.

"I suppose you're right, sir; but I don't see what comfort a trial by court-martial can be to a man who knows that he's sure to be found guilty and shot."

"But not till he has been justly condemned," I put in.

"Like to know any more about what's going on round about the fort, sir?" said the Sergeant, after giving me a queer look.

"Yes, of course," cried Denham.

"Well, not much, sir. Colonel's always going round about to see that the men don't expose themselves, and I expect that at any time there'll be orders given that neither the horses nor the bullocks are to be driven out to graze."

"Then they are all driven out?" I said.

"Of course, sir. We couldn't keep the bullocks alive without."

"I wonder the Boers don't shoot them," I said.

"Don't like shooting their own property," said the Sergeant, with a grin. "They're always hoping they'll get 'em back; but they'll have to look sharp if they do, for if they're much longer we shall have eaten the lot."

"Take some time to do that, Sergeant," said Denham, laughing.

"Not such a very long time, sir. You see, the men have nothing but water to drink; tobacco's getting scarce; there's no bread, no coffee, no vegetables; and the men have very little to do but rub down their horses to keep 'em clear of ticks: the consequence is that they try to make up for it all by keeping on eating beef, and then sleeping as hard as ever they can."

"I don't know what we can do unless we cut our way through the enemy," said Denham sadly. "I go on thinking the matter over and over, and always come back to the same idea."

"No wonder," said the Sergeant. "That is the only way; so the sooner you two get fit to mount the better, for I don't see that anything can be done till then."

"Are there any more—cripples?" said Denham bitterly.

"Oh, there's a few who'd be off duty if things were right," said the Sergeant cheerfully; "but they make shift. The Colonel limps a bit, and uses his sword like a walking-stick; six have got arms in slings, and four or five bullet-scratches and doctor's patches about 'em; but there isn't a man who doesn't show on parade and isn't ready to ride in a charge."

"But riding," I said, with the eagerness of one who is helpless—"what about the horses?"

"All in fine condition, gentlemen," said the Sergeant emphatically, "but a bit too fine, and they look thin. The Colonel's having 'em kept down so that they shan't get too larky from having no work to do."

"But they're not sent out to graze now?" I said.

"Oh yes, regularly."

"Then why don't the Boers shoot them, so as to make them helpless?"

The Sergeant chuckled.

"Colonel's too smart for them," he said. "The bullocks are sent out in the day with a strong guard on foot to keep behind the oxen, but the horses go out as soon as it's dark, every one with his man to lead him, and all ready for an attack. Ah! but it's miserable work, and I shall be very glad when you two gentlemen are ready to mount again, so that we can go."

"You'll have to go without us, Briggs," said Denham sadly. "I don't suppose the Boers will shoot us if we're taken prisoners."

"That's just what the Colonel's likely to do, sir. It's his regular way with his men. I must be off now, though. Time's up. You'll like to see this, though, Mr Denham?"

The Sergeant began to fumble in his pouch, bringing out several cartridges before he found what he wanted—a dirty-looking piece of milky quartz.

"What have you got there?" we asked in a breath.

"Stuff the men are finding in a hole at the back of the cook's fireplace."

"Why, it's gold ore," I said eagerly.

"Nonsense! What do you know about it?" said Denham, turning the lump over in his hand.

"I know because pieces like that are in the kopje near my home. Joeboy could find plenty like that. He took some to my father once, and father said it was gold."

"Then you've got a mine on your farm?"

"I suppose so; but father said we'd better get rich by increasing the flocks and herds. Look there," I said; "all those are veins of gold, and those others are crystals and scales."

"There, catch, Sergeant," said Denham bitterly. "We don't want gold; we want health, and a way out of this prison."

"That's right, sir; and if you like I'll try and come and tell you how things are going to-night."

"Yes, do," cried Denham. Then the Sergeant thrust his piece of gold ore and quartz back into his pouch, and marched away.

"Val, old chap," said Denham as soon as we were alone, "that fellow seemed to cheer me up a bit while he was here."

"Yes," I said; "he roused me up too."

"But now he's gone I'm down again lower and lower than ever I was before. I begin to wish I were dead. Oh dear! who'd be a wounded man who feels as helpless as a child?"

I was silent.

"Is that doctor ever coming to see us again?"

"Yes," said a sharp, clear voice. "Now then, most impatient of all patients, how are you getting on?"

"Getting ready for the firing-party to waste a few cartridges over, doctor. Can't you see?"

"Humph!" said our visitor, feeling the poor fellow's head and then his pulse. "Here, drink a little of this."

"More physic?" groaned Denham despondently.

"Yes, Nature's," replied the doctor, holding out a folding cup which he had refilled. "Fresh water; a bucket just brought to the screen there by the orderly."

As he spoke he raised the poor fellow up with one arm and held the cup to his lips.

Denham took a few drops unwillingly, then a little more, and finally finished the cupful with avidity, while the sight of my companion drinking seemed to produce a strange, feverish sensation in my throat.

The next minute the doctor had let Denham sink down, and refilled the cup and handed it to me. It was delicious, and I drained the little vessel all too soon. Then I was gently lowered, and the doctor repeated the dose with us both.

"That's better," he said quietly. "You two fellows have been talking too much; now shut your eyes and have a good long sleep."

"What! in the middle of the day?" protested Denham.

"Yes. Nature wants all your time now for healing your damaged places. No more talking. I'll come again by-and-by."

"How absurd!" said Denham as soon as the tilt had fallen back to its place. "I can't sleep now. Can you?"

"Impossible," I said, and I lay looking up at the long slit of blue sky over the wagon-tilt. Then I was looking at something black as ink, and beyond it the slit of blue sky was fiery orange.

"Joeboy?" I said wonderingly.

"Um? Yes, Boss," was the reply.

"How long have you been here?"

"Um? Long, long time. Boss Val been very fass asleep."

"Hist! Is Mr Denham asleep?" I whispered.

"Um? Very fass; not move once."

I was silent for a few moments, struggling mentally to say something, I could not tell what.

"Boss Val like drink o' water?" said the black just then.

"Yes—no. Ah, I remember now," I cried eagerly, for it all came back. "Where have you been all this time?"

The black smiled.

"Um? Been to see Boss and Aunt Jenny."

"You have?" I cried eagerly. "But stop a moment. You went after that Irish captain?"

The black nodded, and, to my horror, his face contracted and his lips drew away from his white teeth, but not in a grin.

I lay back looking at him wildly, and as I gazed in his eyes the appearance of his countenance made me shudder just then, lit up by the fiery glow of the sunset which flooded the place through the openings above the tilt. It seemed to me horrible, and for a long time I could not speak. At last the words came:

"Did you know that he struck down Mr Denham, and nearly killed us both?"

"Um? Yes. Soldiers tell Joeboy."

"And you followed him?"

"Um? Yes," came, accompanied by a nod.

"And you've killed him with your assagai?" I said, with a shudder, as I glanced at where three of the deadly weapons lay at the side of my rough couch, across his shield.

"Um? No. Nearly kill Joeboy."

"Ah!" I cried, with a curious feeling of relief.

"Joeboy run after him all away among the Doppies; when they shoot, Joeboy lie down, and then follow um till he see um. Then he shoot, and—look here."

Joeboy held up his left arm, smiling, and I saw that it was roughly tied up with a piece of coarse homespun.

"He wounded you?"

"Um? Yes. Shot pistol, and make hole here."

"And he got away unhurt?"

"Um? Yes; this time," said the black. "Next time Joeboy make hole froo um somewhere. Hate um."

"But your wound?" I said. "Is it bad?"

"Um? Only little hole. Soon grow up again."

"Now tell me, how are all the people at home—my father, my aunt, and Bob?"

Joeboy shook his head.

"What do you mean?" I said. "Haven't you seen them?"

"Um? No; all gone right away. Doppies been and burnt all up. All gone."

"What's that?" said Denham, who had been awakened by our talking—"the Boers have been and burnt up that jolly old farm?"

"Um? Yes, Boss. All gone."

"The brutes!"



CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

THE DOCTOR'S DOSE.

"Look here, Denham," said the doctor; "you're an ill-tempered, ungrateful, soured, discontented young beggar. You deserve to surfer.— And as for you, sir," he continued, turning to me, "you're not much better."

That was when we were what the doctor called convalescent—that is to say, it was about a fortnight after our terrible experience in the old mine-shaft, and undoubtedly fast approaching the time when we might return to duty.

"Anything else, sir?" said Denham sharply.

I said nothing, but I winced.

"I dare say I could find a few more adjectives to illustrate your character, sir," said the doctor rather pompously; "but I think that will do."

"So do I, sir," said Denham; "but let me tell you that you don't allow for our having to lie helpless here fretting our very hearts out because we can't join the ranks."

"There you go again, sir," cried the doctor. "Always grumbling. Look at you both; wounds healing up."

"Ugh!" cried Denham. "Mine are horrid." I winced again.

"Your muscles are recovering their tone."

"I can hardly move without pain," groaned Denham. I screwed up my face in sympathy.

"Your bruises dying out."

"Doctor!" shouted Denham, "do you think I haven't looked at myself? I'm horrible."

This time I groaned.

"How do you know? You haven't got a looking-glass, surely?"

"No; but I've seen my wretched face in a bucket of water," cried Denham.

"Bah! Conceited young puppy! And compared notes, too, both of you, I'll be bound."

"Of course we have, lying about here with nothing to do but suffer and fret. You don't seem to do us a bit of good."

"What!" cried the doctor. "Why, if it hadn't been for me you'd have had no faces at all worth looking at. Most likely—There, there, there! I won't get into a temper with you both, and tell you what might have happened."

"Both would have died, and a good job too," cried Denham bitterly.

"Come, come!" said the doctor gently; "don't talk like that. I know, I know. It has been very hard to bear, and you both have been rather slow at getting strong again. But be reasonable. This hasn't been a proper hospital, and it isn't now a convalescent home, where I could coax you both back into health and strength. I've no appliances or medicines worth speaking about, and I must confess that the diet upon which I am trying to feed you up is not perfect."

"Perfect, Val!" cried Denham. "Just listen to him. Everything is horrible."

"Quite right, my dear boy," said the doctor; "it is."

"The bread—Ugh! It always tastes of burnt bones and skin and grease."

"Yes," said the doctor, with a sigh; "but that's all the fuel we have for heating the oven now the wagons are burned."

"Then the soup, or beef-tea, or whatever you call it. I don't know which is worst—that which is boiled up in a pannikin or the nauseous mess made by soaking raw beef in a bucket of water."

"But it is warmed afterwards, my dear boy," said the doctor, "and it is extremely nutritious."

"Ugh!" shuddered Denham. "What stuff for a poor fellow recovering from wounds! I can't and I won't take any more of it."

The doctor smiled, and looked hard at the grumbler.

"Won't you, Denham?" he said. "Oh yes, you will; and you're going to have bits of steak to-day, frizzled on ramrods."

"Over a bone fire!" cried Denham. "I'm sick of it all."

"Come, come, come! you're getting ever so much stronger, both of you."

"But are we really, doctor?" I said; "or are you saying this to cheer us up?"

"Ask yourselves, boys. You know as well as I do that you are. Climb up on the wall this morning and sit in the sunshine; but mind you keep well in shelter. I don't want one of the Boers to undo in a moment what has taken me so long to do."

"Oh, I don't know," said Denham dismally. "We're poor sort of machines—always getting out of order."

"Have you two been falling out?" said the doctor, turning to me.

"No," I said; "we haven't had a word. Denham's in rather a bad temper this morning."

"Why, you impudent beggar!" he cried, "for two pins I'd punch your head."

"Bravo!" cried the doctor. "Here, I'll give 'em to you. Humph! No; only got one. Stop a minute; I'll give you a needle out of my case instead. Will that do?"

"Look here, doctor," cried Denham; "I can't stand chaff now."

"Chaff, my dear boy? I'm in earnest. That's right; go at him. Have a really good fight. It will do you good."

"Bah!" cried Denham, as he saw me laughing. "Here, come along up to the wall, Val. I don't want to fall out with the doctor any more."

"That you don't," said that gentleman, offering his hand. "There, good-morning, patients. I know. But cheer up. I like that bit of spirit Denham showed just now. It was a splendid sign. You'll eat the grill when it comes?"

He did not wait for an answer, but bustled away, Denham looking after him till he was out of hearing.

"I wish I hadn't been so snappish with him," he said rather remorsefully. "He has done a lot for us."

"Heaps," I said.

"And we must seem very ungrateful."

"He knows how fretful weak people can be," I said. "Come, let's get up into the sunshine."

For I was having hard work with poor Denham in those days. His sufferings had affected him in a curious way. He was completely soured, and a word or two, however well meant, often sent him into a towering rage. Even then I had to temporise, for he turned impatiently away.

"Hang the sunshine!" he said.

"But it will do you good," I said.

"I don't want to get any good. It only makes me worse. I shall stop down here in the shade."

"I'm sorry," I said, "for I wanted to be up in the fresh air this morning."

"Oh, well, if you want to go I'll come with you."

"Yes, do," I said; and we went out into the great court, where the horses were fidgeting, and biting and kicking at one another, and being shouted at by the men, who were brushing away at their coats to get them into as high a state of perfection as possible. There were the bullocks too, sadly reduced in numbers, and suggesting famine if some new efforts were not made.

"Don't stop looking about," said Denham peevishly. "How worn and shabby the men look! It gives me the horrors."

I followed him, but after his remark I gave a sharp look at the groups of men we passed, especially one long double line going through the sword exercise and pursuing-practice under the instructions of Sergeant Briggs; and as, at every barked-out order, the men made their sabre-blades flash in the sunshine, I felt a thrill as of returning strength run through me; but I noticed how thin, though still active and strong, the fellows looked.

We climbed up the rugged stones, which had gradually been arranged till the way was pretty easy, and reached the top of the wall, now protected by a good breastwork high enough to enable our sentries to keep well under cover.

It was very bright and breezy up there; but Denham did not seem disposed to sit down quietly and rest in the sun, for he stepped up at once to where he could gaze over the breastwork, resting his elbows on the stones and his chin upon his hands.

"Hi, Denham! don't do that," I said. "It's not safe."

"Bah! I want to look out for those ammunition-wagons old Briggs was talking about."

"But—" I began, and then I was silent, for Joeboy had followed us up, and seeing Denham's perilous position, he stepped up behind him, put his hands to his waist, and lifted him down as if he had been a child.

"How dare—Oh, it's you, Blackie," he said, laughing.

It was a strange laugh, and I could see that the poor fellow had a peculiar look in his eyes. For as Joeboy snatched more than lifted him down, ping, whiz, the humming of two bullets went so close to his head on either side that he winced twice—to right and to left; and crack, crack came the reports of the rifles fired from the Boer lines opposite.

"Doppie want to shoot Boss Denham," said Joeboy coolly. "Shoot straight."

"Yes, they shoot straight," said Denham; "but I didn't think—I don't know, though; perhaps I did think. I say, Val," he added in a strange, inconsequent way, as if rather ashamed of his recklessness, "that was rather near—wasn't it?"

"Why do you act like that?" I said reproachfully.

"I suppose it was out of bravado," he replied, seeming to return to his old manner again. "I wanted to show the brutes the contempt I feel for them."

"You only made them laugh to see how quickly your head disappeared when they fired."

"How do you know?" he said sharply.

"Because that's exactly what they would do," I replied.

Denham frowned, and turned to Joeboy.

"Here," he said, "put up that big stone on the edge there."

The black obeyed, and then Denham pointed to another.

"Put that one beside it, and leave just room between them for me to peer out. I want to see whether it's possible to do as you did, Val, and bring out a wagon of cartridge-boxes."

Joeboy raised first one and then another great stone upon the edge as he was told, and Denham stepped up directly to look between them, but bobbed his head and stepped down again directly, for spat, spat, spat, three rifle-bullets struck the stones and fell rattling down.

Denham looked sharply towards me, frowning angrily; but I met his eyes without shrinking.

"I wish I wasn't so nervous," he said, by way of apology. "It's from being weak, I suppose."

"It's enough to make a strong man shrink," I said. "Don't look again. The next bullet may come between the stones and hit you."

"But I must look," he said angrily. "It's quite time you and I did something to help."

"If you are hit it will do every one else harm instead of good."

He turned upon me fiercely, but calmed down directly.

"Yes," he said; "I suppose you're right. Oh, here's the Sergeant coming up. He has done drilling, I suppose."

The Sergeant announced that this was so directly after joining us.

"The boys are getting splendid with the sword now," he said, seating himself upon a block of stone and wiping his moist brow; "but it's dreary work not being able to get them to work."

"Tell the Colonel to get them all out, then, and make a charge. We ought to be able to scatter this mob."

"So we could, sir," said the Sergeant gruffly, "but they won't give us a chance. If they'd make a mob of themselves we'd soon scatter them, numerous as they are; but it's of no use to talk; we can't charge wagons and rifle-pits. It wouldn't be fair to the lads. Why, they'd empty half our saddles before we got up to them, and then it would be horrible work to get through. No, it can't be done, Mr Denham, and you know it as well as I do."

"No, I don't," said my companion stubbornly. "It ought to be done. Once we were all through, the enemy would take to flight."

"Once we were all through," said the Sergeant, with a grim chuckle; "but that's it. How many would get through? Now, just put it another way, sir. Say there's only six or seven of them out there, and there's one on our side. That's about how it stands as to numbers. Very well; say you lead that charger of yours out. The Boers see what's going to happen directly, and the minute you're up in the saddle they begin to fire at you—the whole seven."

"You said six," cried Denham.

"Six or seven, sir. Well, let it be six. Don't you think it very likely that one out of the six Doppies would manage to hit you?"

Denham frowned and remained silent, while Joeboy sat all of a heap, his arms round his knees, watching the Sergeant, and I saw his ears twitch as if he were trying hard to grasp the whole of the non-com's theory.

"You think not, sir?" continued Briggs. "Well, I don't agree with you. They'd hit you perhaps before you got far; they'd hit you for certain, you or your horse, before you got close up; and let me tell you that the chances would be ever so much worse if we were galloping up to them in line."

"Yes, you're right, Sergeant," said Denham slowly. "It would be murder, and the chief couldn't, in justice to the men, call upon them to charge. But they'd follow us," he added excitedly.

"Follow their officers, sir? Of course they would, and some of 'em would get through."

"Gloriously," cried Denham.

"Well, I suppose some of those fine writers who make history would call it glorious; but I should call it horrible waste of good stuff. It wouldn't do, sir—it wouldn't do, for there'd be nothing to gain by it. If we could make an opening in the enemy's lines and put 'em a bit into disorder, so as to give a chance for another regiment to slip in and rout 'em, it would be splendid; but to do it your way would be just chucking good men's lives away."

"Yes, yes, Sergeant; you're right, and the Colonel's right, and I'm all wrong. I know better; but my head got so knocked about by that renegade Irishman and my fall down that hole that it doesn't work right yet."

"I know, sir," said the Sergeant, nodding his head. "When you talk in that bitter way I know it isn't my brave, clever young officer speaking; and I say to myself, 'Wait a bit, old man; he'll soon come round.'"

"Thank you, Sergeant; thank you," said Denham, holding out his hand, which Briggs grasped, shook warmly, then turned to me to go through the same business; he did so hotly, for my hand felt crushed, and I vainly tried to respond as heartily, while the tears of pain rose in my eyes, but did not dim them so much that I could not see my torturer's eyes were also moist.

"Well, what are you looking at?" he growled. "I say, don't squeeze a man's hand like that. Why, you've made my eyes water, lad. Look, they're quite wet. Phew! You did squeeze."

"It's because he has so much vice in him, Briggs," said Denham, smiling.

"That's it, Mr Denham. Well, we must wait, for there's nothing to be done but send one or two smart fellows to creep through the enemy's ranks in the night, on foot. You can't get horsemen through."

"You mean, send for help from the nearest British force?" said Denham.

"That's it, sir—some one to tell the officer in command that we shall soon be on our last legs here; but if he'll como on and attack them in the rear, we'll be out and at 'em as soon as we hear the shooting; and if we didn't polish off the Doppies then, why, we should deserve to lose."

"Briggs," said Denham warmly, "of course that's the plan. You ought to have been in command of the corps yourself."

"Ah! now your head's getting a bit the better of you again, sir," replied the Sergeant, "or you wouldn't talk like that. What I say's only second-hand. That's the chief's plan."

"Then why doesn't he carry it out?" I said indignantly.

"You hold your tongue," growled the Sergeant. "You're only a recruit yet, and your head's getting the better of you too.—Yes, Mr Denham, that's the Colonel's own plan, and he's tried it every night for the last twelve nights."

"What!" I cried.

"Yes, my lad; called quietly for volunteers, and sent out twelve of our lads; but so far there don't seem to be one that has got through, and the game gets expensive. There, I must go down again now and get to duty. I saw you two coming up while I was going through the exercise, and I'm very glad to see you both looking so much better.—Well, Joe Black," he said as he turned away, "how's Mr Moray's horse?"

"Um? Coat shine beautiful," said Joeboy.

"And enough to make it, my lad, seeing the way you rub him down."

"Denham," I said that night as we lay wakefully gazing up at the stars, "do you feel any stronger yet?"

"I don't know. I seem to fancy I do. Why?"

"I thought you did because you've been so quiet ever since we had that talk with the Sergeant. I feel stronger."

"Why do you ask?" he said.

"Because I've been thinking that I ought to do that job, and you ought to be on the lookout again, to come to my help if I succeed."

"No," he said quickly; "it's a job for two. I'd go with you."

"But I should take Joeboy."

"Then it's a job for three, Val; we can take our time, and the slower we go perhaps the better. If we get stopped by the Boers, we're wounded and getting away from the fighting."

"Yes, that might do. We do look bad."

"Horribly bad, Val. You look a miserable wreck of a fellow."

"And you, I won't say what," I retorted, a little irritably.

"So much the better. When shall we go—to-night?"

"No. Let's have a good sleep to-night, and talk to Joeboy about it in the morning. To-morrow night as soon as it's dark we'll be off," I said.

"The Colonel won't let us go if we volunteer."

"Of course not. Let's go without leave; but that will look like deserting."

"I don't care what it looks like so long as we can get through and bring help."

"The same here."

"But we ought to steal away to-night," said Denham.

"No; let's have Joeboy. Ha!" I said, with a sigh of relief. "I seem to see my way now, and I shall sleep like a top."

"I'm so relieved, Val, old chap, that I'm half-asleep now. Quite a restful feeling has come over me. Good-night."

"Good-night," I replied; and I have some faint recollection of the rays of a lantern beating down and looking red through my eyelids, and then of feeling a soft hand upon my temples. But the next thing I fully realised was that it was a bright, sunny morning, and that Denham was sitting up in his sack-bed.

"How do you feel?" he cried eagerly.

"Like going off as soon as it's dark."

"So do I," he said. "I'm a deal better now. What's the first thing to do—smuggle some meal to take with us?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Yes, perhaps we'd better take some; and, I say, we must have bandages on our heads as well as the sticking-plaster."

"Of course. Then, I say, as soon as ever we've had breakfast we'll talk to Joeboy."

"Exactly," I replied. "He'll be half-mad to go, and when we've said all we want to him we'll come back and lie down again."

"Oh! What for?"

"So as to rest and sleep all we possibly can, for if all goes well we shan't have a wink to-night."

"Perhaps you're right," said Denham.

"There's one more thing to think about."

"What's that?"

"Our going off without leave," I said—"you an officer, I a private."

"Oh! I say, don't get raising up obstacles."

"I don't want to," I said; "but this is serious."

"Very, for us to run such risks; and of course it isn't according to rule. But it's an exception. Let's argue it out, for it does look ugly."

"Go on," I said, "for I want my conscience cleared."

"Look here, then; what are we going to do?"

"Try and get help, of course."

"Then I consider that sufficient excuse for anything—in a corps of irregulars. Old Briggs would say it was mutinous in the regular army. To go on: if we asked leave, the Colonel or Major would say we were mad, and that we are not fit. Then—Oh, look here, I'm not going to argue, Val. I confess it's all wrong, only there's one thing to be said: we're not going to desert our ranks, for we're both on the sick-list; and, come what may, I mean to go and bring help somehow. You're not shirking the job after sleeping on it?"

"No," I said emphatically. "Now for breakfast, and then we'll have a talk with Joeboy."



CHAPTER FORTY.

JOEBOY IS MISSING AGAIN.

"What a breakfast!" groaned Denham half-an-hour later.

"Never mind," I said; "we'll get something better, perhaps, to-morrow."

"That we will, even if we commando it at the point of the sword, which is another way of saying we shall steal it. I say, though, the thought of all this is sending new life into me."

"I feel the same," I said; then we sat back waiting till the doctor visited us, examined our injuries, and expressed himself satisfied.

"Another week," he said, "and then I shall dismiss you both. Nature and care will do the rest."

The doctor then left us; and, watching for an opportunity, we called to one of the men passing the hospital, and told him to find the black. However, ten minutes later we found that this might have been saved, for the Sergeant paid us a morning call, and on leaving promised to go round by the horses and send Joeboy to us.

"What news of the messengers?" we asked. The Sergeant shook his head sadly, and replied, "Don't ask me, gentlemen. It looks bad—very bad. The Boers ain't soldiers, but they're keeping their lines wonderfully tight."

"That's our fault," said Denham. "We gave them such lessons by our night attack and the capture of the six wagons and teams."

"I say," said the Sergeant, and he looked from one to the other.

"Well, what do you say?" cried Denham.

"Doctor been changing your physic?"

"Why?" I said.

"Because you both look fifty pounds better than you did yesterday."

"It's the hope that has come, Briggs," cried Denham, his face lighting up.

"Haven't got a bit to spare, have you, sir?" said the Sergeant; "because I should like to try how it would agree with my case, for I'm horribly down in the mouth at present. I don't like the look of things at all."

"What do you mean?" asked Denham.

"I had a look round at the horses, sir, last night."

"Not got the horse-sickness, Briggs?"

"No, sir, not so bad as that; but, speaking as an old cavalry man, I say that they mustn't be kept shut up much longer. But there, I shall be spoiling your looks and knocking your hope over. Good-morning, gentlemen—I mean, lieutenant and private. Glad to see you both look so well. I'll tell Joe Black you want him."

"Yes, he'd upset our hopefulness altogether, Val, if it wasn't for one thing—eh?" said Denham as the wagon-tilt swung to after the Sergeant. "But, I say, that fellow of yours ought to be here by now."

"Yes," I said. But we waited anxiously for quite an hour before the man we had sent came back.

"Can't find the black, sir," he said.

"Did you go to the horses?"

"Yes, sir, and everywhere else."

"You didn't go to the butcher's?" I asked.

"Yes, I did; but he hadn't been there."

"Perhaps he's gone out with the bullock drove."

"No," said the man; "the oxen are being kept in this morning because the Boers have come a hundred yards nearer during the night. They're well in opposite the gateway, and the Colonel's having our works there strengthened."

"The Sergeant didn't say a word about that," Denham said to me.

I shook my head, and turned to the messenger.

"Is he asleep somewhere about the walls?" I asked.

"No; I looked there," was the reply. "He always snoozes up on the inner wall, just above the water-hole. There's a place where a big stone has fallen out and no bullets can get at him. I looked there twice."

"Hasn't fallen down one of the holes, has he?" said Denham.

"Not he, sir," replied the man, laughing. "He'd go about anywhere in the dark, looking like a bit o' nothing, only you couldn't see it in the darkness, and never knock against a thing. It's his feet, I think; they always seem to know where to put theirselves. He wouldn't tumble down any holes."

"Keep a sharp lookout for him, and when you see him send him to me directly."

"Yes, sir," replied the man. "I dessay he'll turn up in the course o' the morning. He's always hiding himself and coming again when you don't expect it."

"I say, Val," cried Denham as soon as we were alone, "we didn't reckon on this. Why, if he doesn't turn up our plan's done."

"Not at all," I said.

"Eh? What do you mean? We couldn't go without him."

"Indeed, but we could; and what's more, we will," I said firmly. "I would rather have had him with us; but we're going to-night—if we can."

Denham seized my hand and wrung it warmly.

"I like that," he said; "but you shouldn't have put in that 'if we can.'"

"Obliged to," I replied. "We may be stopped."

"Oh, but I shall give the password."

"We may find even that will not be enough. The orders are very strict now. Besides, if we did not come back the guard would report us missing, and then there'd be great excitement at once."

"What would you do, then?" he asked.

"Take a lesson out of that Irishman's book."

"Knock two or three sentries on the head with a stone?"

"No, no," I cried, laughing. "Get a couple of reins, tie them together, and then slide down from the wall."

"Good!" exclaimed Denham; and, after a pause: "Better! Yes, that will do. Start from the far corner?"

"No, from just up here where Joeboy arranged the stones. We can tie up to one of those big ones that you stand on to look over. You feel strong enough to slide down?—it isn't far."

"Oh yes."

"Then, once on the ground, we can crawl away. That's how I mean to go all along."

"What about the tethering-ropes?"

"We'll go and have a look at our horses towards evening, slip the coils over our shoulders, and bring them away. No one will interfere."

"Val," he cried, "you ought to be a commissioned officer."

"I don't want to be," I said, laughing. "I want the war to be over, and to be able to find my people, and settle down again in peace. This fighting goes against the grain with me."

"But you always seem to like it, and fight like a fury when we're in for it."

"I suppose it's my nature," I said; "but I don't like it any the better."

We said no more, but waited anxiously in the hope that Joeboy would return, and waited in vain, the time gliding by, some hours being passed in sleep, till we were suddenly aroused by firing. There were two or three fits of excitement in the course of the afternoon, and a smart exchange of shots which at one time threatened to develop into a regular attempt to assault the fort; but it died out at last, direct attack of entrenchments not being in accord with the Boers' ideas of fighting. It is too dangerous for men who like to be safely in hiding and to bring down their enemies as if they were wild beasts of the veldt.

No Joeboy appeared, and in the dusk of evening we went across the yard, had a good look at our horses, stopped patting and caressing them for some time, then went back to the hospital unquestioned and, I believe, unseen, with the coils of raw-hide rope. From that time everything seemed to me so delightfully easy that it prognosticated certain success.

The doctor came at dusk and had a chat; then the Sergeant looked us up to tell us that he had seen nothing of Joeboy, but that the butcher told him he had missed some strips of beef hung up in the sun to make biltong, and that he believed the black had taken them.

"Why?" I asked sharply.

"Because he was so fond of eating; and he said the black would be found curled up amongst the stones somewhere in the kopje among the baboons, sleeping off his feed."

"It isn't true," I said warmly. "Joeboy wouldn't steal unless he knew we were starving, and then it would be to bring it to his master and his master's friend."

"That's what I like in you, Val," said Denham as soon as the Sergeant had left us. "You always stick up for a friend when any one attacks him behind his back."

"Of course," I replied angrily.

"Don't be cross, old man," he cried. "I didn't mean to insult you by calling a black fellow your friend."

"That wouldn't insult me. Joeboy is a humble friend, who would give his life to save mine."

"I wish he was with us, then, so as to make a present of it to somebody if we should be in very awkward quarters."

"I can't understand it," I said; "but we mustn't worry about that now. What about arms?"

"Revolvers under our jackets, out of sight, and a few cartridges in our pouches along with the cake and beef we saved."

"No rifle, bandolier, or sword?" I said thoughtfully.

"Neither one nor the other, my lad. We're going to get through the lines as sick men tired of it all, and whose fighting is done."

"Perhaps to be taken as spies," I said.

"Ugh! Don't talk about it," cried Denham. "We're invalids, and no one can doubt that who looks at your battered head."

"Or yours," I replied. "But look here, Denham; we must give up all idea of capturing wagons. What we have to do is to fetch help."

"Yes, I think so too—get through the Boer lines and find the General's quarters. The other idea was too mad."

We sat in silence for a while, till we felt that the time had come; then we passed our coils of rope over our chests like bandoliers, and strolled out into the dark court, to saunter here and there for a few minutes, listening to the lowing of the oxen or the fidgety stamp of a horse annoyed by a fly. Here Denham exchanged a few words with some of the men. Finally, after a glance at the officers' quarters, from which a light gleamed dimly, Denham led the way to the rough ascent, and with beating heart I followed right up on to the wall. So intense was the darkness that we had to go carefully, not seeing the first sentry till he challenged us and brought us up.

Denham gave the word, and stood talking to the man, who lowered his rifle and rested the butt on the stones.

"How are they to-night?" said Denham. "Quiet?"

"No, sir; they seem to have been having a good eat and drink. More wagons came up from their rear; so the man I relieved told me. It's been a sort of feast, I think. Wouldn't be a bad time for a good attack on the beggars, sir. The boys are, as one of them said, spoiling for a fight."

"Let them wait a bit," said Denham shortly. "It will come."

"The sooner the better, sir," said the sentry; and we went on as far as the next sentry, passing the stones where we had sat to sun ourselves. We talked with this second man about the Boers, received a similar account of the proceedings of the enemy, said "Good-night," and then strolled back to the stones, to sit down for a few minutes, my heart beating harder than ever.

"Now," said Denham at last, in a low tone of voice; "off with your rope, and give me one end. I'll make your line fast to mine, while you secure the other end to that big stone. Tight, mind; I don't want to fall sixty feet and break my neck."

"Nor I," was my reply. "Be sure of your knot, too."

"Right."

Then, in the silence, we each did our part of the task, ending by Denham letting the strong thin rope glide over the edge of the great stones which formed the breastwork. The next minute we stood listening to the sounds from the court, and narrowly watched for our sentries. Far out in the darkness a feeble light or two showed where a lantern burned in the Boer lines. Everything seemed to favour our design, even to the end, and I was breathing hard with excitement, waiting to begin. Just then a hand touched my arm and glided down over my wrist. I knew what it meant, and grasped Denham's hand.

"Good luck to us!" he whispered. "I'll go first and test the rope— hush! I will. As soon as I'm down I shall lie flat and hold on. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Off!"



CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

OUR WILD ATTEMPT.

Denham's words sounded so loud that, as I dropped on one knee to hold the knot of the rope round the stone to prevent it from slipping, I felt sure that the sentries to right and left must have heard him speak. But it was only due to my excited way of looking at things. For the next minute, after a preliminary rustling, I felt a peculiar thrill run along the hide rope. This went on while I wondered if my companion had made the joining of the two ropes secure, my imagination working so rapidly that I seemed to see the knot stretching and yielding till one of the ends slipped through the loop of the knot, and—

The thrilling sensation had ceased; and the rope, which felt in my hands like some living, vibrating thing, hung loose. The next moment a kink ran up it and dissolved in my hands. It was Denham's way of saying "All right," and I knew my turn had come.

The starting was the difficulty—that creeping over the breastwork, just at a time when my strength was far from at its best; but I tackled the business at once, stepped up on to a stone, seated myself on the top of the breastwork, took tight hold of the rope, raised my legs so that I could lie down, turned upon my face, and then softly swung my legs round so that I could twist my feet about the rope and reduce the weight on my arms. The next minute I was hanging at full length, holding the rope with one hand, the edge of the breastwork with the other, and afraid to move; for, to my horror, tramp, tramp came the sound of the approaching sentry to my loft. The perspiration began to ooze out on my face and temples now, and I prepared for a rapid descent, fully expecting the man would see the rope, stop, and, under the impression that I was one of the Boers trying to get into the fort by escalade, would strike me from my hold with the butt of his rifle.

I might have spared myself the horror of those few moments of anxiety; for even when he came nearer I could not see him, and with my head beneath the level of the rough parapet he could not see me, but passed on. I counted the steps, and at the sixth began to let the hide rope glide slowly through my moist hands.

Soon I felt the knot over my boots stop my progress, and had to slacken the rope off my feet, gliding down till my hands touched the knot. This was, I thought, so very loose that I had either to tighten it or slide quickly down. I chose the latter, and went on so swiftly that my hands were hot with the friction when my feet touched Denham's hands, as he held the rope, and then the ground. I dropped to my knees at once, then lay, panting as if I had run a mile.

Denham placed his lips close to my ear and whispered, "I was afraid the sentry would see you. Here, give me your knife."

I answered by taking it out and placing it in his hands, listening, and wondering then what he was about to do, for he rose to his feet, and I heard a peculiar sound as of cutting something and Denham breathing hard.

He was down by me when the noise ceased, and once more his lips were at my ear.

"Get up and join hands," he whispered. "There's a light straight ahead, and another about a quarter of a mile to the right. We'll make for this last one. Mind, not a sound."

The order was not needed. We rose silently. There, as he had stated, right in front and away to the right, were two of the tiniest sparks of light; they were almost invisible, the nearest being fully a thousand yards off.

Then, hand in hand and step by step, we went on through the pitchy darkness straight for the light on our right. We moved very cautiously, for our first fear was that we might be heard from the walls; and, setting aside the extreme doubtfulness of receiving a bullet in the back from a friend, there was the danger of one shot bringing many, as the sentries carried on the alarm, with the result that every Boer in front would be on the qui vive and our venture rendered impossible. But all was perfectly still, while the darkness overhead seemed to press down upon us.

In about ten minutes Denham whispered, "Don't take any notice."

When he had spoken there was a faint, rustling sound, and I knew he had thrown something from him, to fall with a dull sound upon the ground.

"Bother!" he whispered. "I didn't think it would make such a row."

"What was it?" I asked.

"About a dozen feet of hide rope. I cut it off as high as I could reach; but, my word, wasn't it hard!"

"Why did you cut it?"

"So that no Boer, exploring, should run against it and take it into his head to climb up. How do you feel?"

"Rather hot."

"So do I. We're precious weak yet. Now, look here; we'll keep on walking as long as we dare; then we must go down on hands and knees; last of all, we must creep on our chests, helping ourselves along with our elbows."

"It will be very slow work," I said.

"Yes, but it's the only way. We shall do it, for it's gloriously dark. If we come suddenly upon a sentry we must drop on our faces and lie still till I see the way to circumvent him."

"I understand," I said.

"Not all yet. If we get close up you'll have to take the lead; and the thing to do is to get close up among the sleeping Boers. That means safety, for if any one wakes up and speaks you must answer in Dutch, with your face close to the ground."

"It seems very risky," I said.

"So did your going to cut out six wagons with their teams; but you did it. Now, don't talk; come on."

We moved forward again very slowly in what seemed to be a tedious journey, though I knew perfectly well that, taken diagonally, it could not be more than twelve hundred yards, it having been reckoned that the Boers' advance-parties were about a thousand yards from the walls of the fort. But we were getting nearer, for the lights seemed to grow, not brighter, but less dim, and during the last few minutes we had noticed a third light away to the right. I wanted to say that we were getting pretty near to the enemy at last; but talking was now out of the question, and I had to telegraph to my companion, by a pressure of the hand, that we must be on the alert.