But what place is this?"

"This? Why, Kimberley, of course!"

"Ah!" cried West excitedly, and his hand went to his breast. "My
jacket!"

"Your jacket?" said the nurse. "Oh, that was all cut and torn, and
soaked with blood. I think it has been burnt."

"What!" cried West. "Oh, don't say that!"

"Hush, hush! What is this?" said a deep, stern voice. "Patient
delirious, nurse?"

A quiet, grave-looking face was bent over West's pillow, and the poor
fellow jumped at the idea that this must be the surgeon.

"No, sir; no, sir!" he whispered excitedly, catching at the new-comer's
arm. "I am better: it is only that I am in trouble about my clothes."

"Clothes, eh?" said the doctor, smiling. "Oh, you will not want clothes
for two or three weeks yet."

"Not to dress, sir," whispered West excitedly; "but I must have my
jacket. It is important!"

"Why?" said the surgeon, laying his hand upon the young man's brow
soothingly.

"I was bringing on a despatch from Mafeking when I was shot down, sir,"
whispered West excitedly.

"It was sewn up for safety in the breast."

"Indeed?" said the doctor, laying his fingers on the lad's pulse and
looking keenly in his eyes.

"Yes, sir, indeed!" said West eagerly. "I know what I am saying, sir."

"Yes, you are cool now; but I'm afraid the jacket will have been burned
with other garments of the kind. Of course, the contents of the pockets
will have been preserved."

"Oh, they are nothing, sir," cried West piteously. "It is a letter sewn
up in the breast that I want. It is so important!"

"Well, I'll see!" said the doctor gravely, and, signing to the nurse who
had been in attendance, he left the ward, with West in a state of
feverish anxiety.

At last, to West's intense satisfaction, the horribly blood-stained
garment was brought in, and his hand went out trembling to catch it by
the breast, fully expecting to find the missive gone.

"Yes," he cried wildly, "it is here!"

"Hah!" cried the doctor, and, taking out his knife, he prepared to slit
it up, but West checked him.

"No," he panted: "the Commandant. Send for him here!"

"My good lad, he is so busy, he would not come! Let me cut out the
message and send it to him."

"No," said West firmly; "I will not part from it till he comes."

"But really--"

"Tell him a wounded messenger from Mafeking has a letter for him, and he
will come."

West was right: the magic word Mafeking brought the Commandant to