part of the bush
they did not touch him, for a second after firing he had again dropped
on all-fours and crawled away to the left. Once more he lifted his
head, to find the two remaining horsemen, rifle in hand, standing up in
their stirrups and searching the thick mimosa shrubs in front of them,
ready to open fire the instant he showed himself.

Jack crawled on a little farther till he came to a spot where, still
lying prone on the ground, it was possible to get a good sight of the
enemy. Taking a careful aim, he once more fired, and had the
satisfaction of seeing another of the Boers fall, while the third
hastily discharged his rifle and galloped away, Jack sending a bullet
whizzing after him.

Then he rose to his feet and strode over to the man who had just tumbled
from his pony. He was quite dead, and as Jack had no means of burying
him he left him there in the bush, and, taking his pony, which had, like
all well-trained animals, remained close by his master's side, he walked
across to look at the other Boer. He found the poor fellow in the
centre of a dense thorn bush, groaning feebly, while a thin stream of
blood ran from his lips.

But a minute before he had been an enemy, and had, indeed, very nearly
been the death of Jack; but for all that he was now a fellow-being in
distress, and Jack determined to do what he could for him. He was a
big, bearded man of thirty-five, and no light weight to lift. But
Jack's strong arms soon carried him on to an open patch of grass. Then
he gave him a drink from his water-bottle, and proceeded to look to his
wound. There was little to be seen, merely a small puncture in front of
the chest and a slightly larger one behind. Searching in the man's
pocket, Jack produced a scarf and tied it tightly round the chest. Then
he gave him another drink, and five minutes later had the satisfaction
of finding him stronger and able to speak. "Where are your friends?" he
asked. "If they are near, and you will promise that I shall not be
taken prisoner, I will carry you to them."

"They are at Vryburg," the wounded man answered in a whisper; "but I
cannot promise that they would not take you prisoner. Elof Vuurren is
no lover of the English. It would be better for you to leave me to die
alone."

Jack thought the matter over for a few moments. If he left the poor
fellow in the bush he knew that his fate was sealed, for he would never
be found. Why should he not risk it, and