kopje, he decided, was to be the extreme
limit of his reconnoitring expedition. From it he ought to be able to
form a tolerably accurate idea of the nature of the terrain up to the
base of the natural bastions of the Karewenda Hills.

Wilmshurst had taken only half a dozen steps when a rifle shot rang
out. Practically simultaneously with the shrill whistle of the bullet
something seemed to hit the subaltern on the left shoulder like a blow
from a hammer.

"That's done it," was his mental exclamation. "Stopped one this time,
by Jove!"

And spinning round twice he dropped to the ground.

Feeling horribly sick and faint Dudley sat up. He found that he was
lying in a slight hollow, the surrounding ground being sufficiently
high to afford good cover, while ahead and on the right were bushes of
long-spiked thorn.

Satisfied on the point of concealment Dudley next devoted his attention
to his wound. Ripping open the sleeve of his coat he discovered that a
bullet had passed completely through his left arm just below the
shoulder. There was very little loss of blood, showing that the
missile had missed the principal veins and arteries, but whether it had
smashed a bone was still a matter of uncertainty.

Applying a first-aid dressing to the best of his ability, Wilmshurst
prepared to "grin and bear it." He realised that developments would be
mostly a contest of patience. The sniper was anxious to know the
actual result of his shot, but too cautious to close until he felt
certain that he had killed his victim. Wilmshurst, anxious to "get his
own back," also knew that premature action would spell disaster. All
he could do was to sit tight and hope that his enemy would leave his
lair.

Slowly the minutes passed. The numbing sensation of the wound was
giving place to hot, stabbing pain, while in spite of the sultriness of
the air a cold sweat oozed from the young officer's forehead.

"Dash it all!" he soliloquised. "Hope I'm not going to faint or do
something silly."

He bent forward until his head rested on his knees. In a few minutes
the feeling of vertigo passed. A draught from his water-bottle had the
effect of temporarily quenching the burning pain that gripped his
throat.

"That's better," he declared, and straightway set to work to carefully
blacken the foresight of his rifle, adjust the wind-gauge (for the
first of a steady cross-wind had sprung up) and set the sights to six
hundreds yards.

"N