e Boers, the
majority of their hurts were bayonet-thrusts, in some cases the last
injuries they would receive; but quite a score were suffering from the
small bullet-holes made by the Mauser rifles fired by their friends in
their random expenditure of ammunition, such of them as had been shot by
our men lying far out on the veldt, having received their wounds during
their hurried flight and not yet been brought in.

Many of the wounded Boers--there was not a single prisoner, orders
having been given not to arrest their flight--looked on in wonder to see
the easy-going, friendly way in which our soldiers gave them help. For
it was a cheery "Hold up, old chap!" or "Oh, this is not bad; you'll
soon be all right again."

"Here, Tommy, bring this Dutchman a drink of water."

For the fierce warrior was latent once again, and now it was the simple
Briton, ready and eager to help his injured brother in the good old
Samaritan mode.

There was other work in hand to do as soon as it was light enough--the
roll to call--and there were missing men to be accounted for; while, as
the officers responded to their names, there was no answer to that of
Captain Roby.

"He was fighting away like a hero, sir, last time I saw him," said
Sergeant James, whose frank, manly face was disfigured by a tremendous
blow on the cheek.

"Search for him, my lads; he can't have been taken prisoner," said the
major. "It's getting lighter now."

"Poor fellow! I hope he hasn't got it," said Dickenson to himself as he
nursed a numbed arm nearly broken by a drive made with a rifle-butt.

Lennox was called, and Dickenson's eyes dilated and then seemed to
contract, for there was no reply.

"Mr Lennox.--Who saw Mr Lennox last?"

There was no answer for some seconds, and then from where the wounded
lay a feeble voice said, "I saw him running round one of the wagons,
sir, just in the thick of the fight."

"He must be down," said the major sadly. "Look for him, my lads; he is
somewhere on the ground we came along, lying perhaps amongst the Boers."

Dickenson groaned--perhaps it was from pain, for his injury throbbed,
pangs running right up into the shoulder-joint, and then up the left
side of his neck.

"Oh! don't say poor old Drew's down," he said to himself. "Just, too,
when I was growling at him for not coming to look me up when I was
hurt."

No one did say he was down but the young lieutenant's imagination, and
he sat down on a rock and be