or the moment realise what had happened, but like a flash
the power of thinking came back, and drawing a deep breath, he tried to
get up, but could hardly stir. Something seemed to hold him down.

"Give me your hand, sergeant," he said, but still no words seemed to
come, and he repeated what he wished to speak; but before he had
completed his sentence, he grasped the fact that the sergeant's manner
had changed, for he rose up, felt behind him, looked at him again, and
seemed to speak, for his lips moved.

"Are you hurt?" Dickenson said, in the same way.

The sergeant's lips moved and he shook his head, looking the while as if
he were not hurt in the least.

"Then why don't you speak?" said Dickenson.

The man smiled and pointed to his ears.

"The explosion has deafened you?" said Dickenson dumbly, for still he
could not hear a word. "What do you mean? Oh, I see."

For the sergeant clapped him on the chest, and then placing his shoulder
against the stone, he seemed to be exerting all his strength to force it
uphill a little, succeeding so well that the next moment Dickenson felt
himself slip, glided clear of the sergeant's legs, and rose to his own,
while the man leaped aside and the great block slipped two or three
yards before it stopped.

"Then I was caught by the stone?" said Dickenson wonderingly. "I felt
it move."

He felt sure now that he had said those words; but in his confused
state, suffering as he was from the shock, he could only wonder why the
sergeant should begin feeling him over, and, apparently satisfied that
nothing was broken, begin hurrying him along in the direction taken by
the retreating force, which, now that the dense cloud of smoke was
lifting, he could see steadily marching away in the distance, but with a
group of about a dozen lingering behind.

Just then the sergeant stopped, unslung his rifle, placed his helmet on
the top, and held it up as high as he could, till Dickenson saw a
similar signal made by the party away ahead.

"They know we're all right," said Dickenson, still, as it seemed,
dumbly: and the sergeant nodded and smiled.

"It was an awful crash. I mean they were terrible crashes, sergeant."

There was another nod, and after a glance back the sergeant hurried him
along a little faster.

"Can you--no, of course you can't--hear whether the Boers are calling
out now?"

The sergeant shook his head.

"Poor wretches!" said Dickenson. "But they were too far of