is
chronicle to the incident of the broken-down car and the runaway horse.

It all happened so quickly, my mind was so taken up with the sudden
peril, that for the life of me I cannot swear to the part played by
Leonard Boyce. I saw him leap aside, and had the fragment of an
impression of him standing motionless between the radiator of his car
and the tail of mine which was at right angles. The next time he thrust
himself on my consciousness was when he was lugging young Brown out of
reach of the convulsive hoofs. In the meanwhile Marigold,
single-handed, had rushed into the jaws of death and stopped the horse.
But as it was a matter of seconds, I had no reason for believing that,
but for adventitious relative positions on the road, Boyce would not
have done the same.... And yet out of the corner of my eye I got an
instantaneous photograph of him standing bolt upright between the two
cars, while the abominable bay brute, with distended red nostrils and
wild eyes, was thundering down on us.

On the other hand, the swift pleasure in the boy's eyes when he
realised that he was in the presence of the popular hero, proved him
free of doubts such as mine. And when Marigold, having put the car in
hospital, came to make his report, and lingered in order to discuss the
whole affair, he said, in wooden deprecation of my eulogy:

"If Major Boyce hadn't jumped in, sir, young Mr. Brown's head would
have been kicked into pumpkin-squash."

Well, I have known from long experience that there are no more
untrustworthy witnesses than a man's own eyes; especially in the
lightning dramas of life.

I was kept awake all night, and towards the dawn I came into thorough
agreement with Sir Anthony and I heartily damned the fellow.

What had I to do with him that he should rob me of my sleep?

CHAPTER XV

The next morning he strode in while I was at breakfast, handsome,
erect, deep-chested, the incarnation of physical strength, with a glad
light in his eyes.

"Congratulate me, old man," he cried, gripping my frail shoulder. "I've
three days' extra leave. And more than that, I go out in command of the
regiment. No temporary business but permanent rank. Gazetted in due
course. Bannatyne--that's our colonel--damned good soldier!--has got a
staff appointment. I take his place. I promise you the Fourth King's
Rifles are going to make history. Either history or manure. History for
choice. As I say, Bannatyne's a damned good soldier,