ackened tunic, and thrown himself upon his rough
bed. It was early in the afternoon, with the sun pouring down its
burning rays on the iron roofing of his hut, and the flies swarming
about the place.

As a matter of course over-tired, his nerves overwrought with the
excitement of what he had gone through, and his head throbbing
painfully, he could not go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes his
ears began to sing after the same fashion as they did directly following
the explosion, and after tossing wearily from side to side for quite an
hour, he sat up, feeling feverish and miserable.

"I'm making myself worse," he thought. "I know: I'll go down to the
side of the stream, bathe my burning head and face, and try and find a
shady place amongst the rocks."

He proceeded to put his plan into execution, resuming his blackened
khaki jacket and belts, and started off, to find a pleasant breeze
blowing, and, in spite of the afternoon sunshine, the heat much more
bearable than inside his hut. His way led him in the direction of the
rough hospital, and as he drew near, to his surprise he heard Captain
Roby's voice speaking angrily, and Dickenson checked himself and bore
off to his right so as to go close by the open door.

"Poor fellow!" he said. "I must see how he is."

He went into the large open hut in which the captain had been placed by
the doctor's orders, because it was one in which the sides had been
taken off so as to ensure a good current of air. As the young officer
entered he caught sight of two others of the injured lying at one end,
and noted that the wounded corporal was one.

Both men were lying on their backs, perfectly calm and quiet; but Roby
was tossing his hands about impatiently and turning his head from side
to side, his eyes wide open, and he fixed them fiercely upon his brother
officer as he entered.

"How does he seem, my lad?" said Dickenson to the attendant, who was
moistening the captain's bandages from time to time.

"Badly, sir. Quite off his head."

"Ah! Cur!--coward!" cried Roby, glaring at him. "Coward, I say! To
leave me like that and run."

"Nonsense, old fellow!" said Dickenson, affected just as the sergeant
had said he would be; and his voice sounded irritable in the extreme as
he continued, "Drop that. You said so before."

"Who's that?" cried Roby, with his eyes becoming fixed.

"Me, old fellow--Dickenson. Not a coward, though."

"Who said you were?"

"Why,