walls.

During the attack on the last house, a shot struck Captain Bullen
in the chest, and he instantly fell. When they saw this, the
Pioneers dashed forward with a howl of rage, carried the fort, and
bayoneted its defenders. The doctor of the party at once examined
the wound, and saw that it would probably be fatal.

"Patch me up, Lloyd, so that I may get back to camp and see my boy
again," the wounded man whispered.

"I will do my best," the doctor said, "but I doubt whether you will
be able to stand the journey."

The Pioneers, after setting fire to all the houses in the valley,
started at once for home. Captain Bullen was placed on a stretcher,
and four men at a time carried him down, taking the utmost pains
not to jolt or shake him. His face was covered with light boughs,
to keep off the flies; and everything that was possible was done to
conduce to his comfort.

The doctor watched him anxiously. His condition became more
serious, every day. As they neared the camp, a messenger was sent
down with a report from the native officer of what had happened;
and the Pioneers all came out to see their favourite officer
brought in; and stood, mournful and silent, as he was carried to
his bungalow.

"Don't come in yet, lad," the surgeon said, to Lisle. "Your father,
at present, is incapable of speaking; and he must have a little
rest before you see him, for the slightest excitement would
probably cause a gush of blood to the wound, which would be fatal."

Lisle's grief was unbounded. He could not listen to the kind words
with which the officers tried to soothe him, but wandered away out
of camp and, throwing himself down, wept unrestrainedly for an
hour. Then he roused himself, and walked slowly back. By a mighty
effort he had composed himself, for he knew that he must be calm
when he saw his father.

Half an hour later, the doctor beckoned him in.

"He is conscious now," he said, "and has whispered that he wishes
to see you. He has been very calm, all the way down, and has spoken
of you often."

"I will do my best," Lisle muttered, keeping down his tears with a
tremendous effort; and then went into his father's room.

He could not trust himself to speak a word but, walking up, took
his father's hand and, kneeling down, pressed it to his lips, his
whole form shaking with agitation.

"I am glad I have held out until I got back," his father said, in a
low voice. "It is all up with me, my boy, and I have only a