e thought of the unpleasant news that
awaited his friend.

"But a word from him will set that right," he said to himself. "Poor
fellow! He must be done up to sleep like that. Why, he never even
asked how we got on after the fight."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

IN DIFFICULTIES.

On and on at the ponies' slow walk through the short scrub or over the
bare plain, with the clever little animals seeming to instinctively
avoid every stone that was invisible to the riders in the intense
darkness. Every now and then a halt was made, one of which their steeds
immediately took advantage by beginning to browse on such tender shoots
as took their fancy, and again and again the whispered questions were
asked:

"How does he seem, sergeant?"

"Fast asleep, sir."

"Hadn't you better let one of the men take your place?"

"Oh no, sir; I'm all right, and so's he."

"Can either of you hear anything?"

"No, sir; only the ponies cropping the bush." Then a faint, "We ought
to be getting near home, sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

"Can we do anything more?"

"No, sir; only wish for a row of gas-lamps along a straight road, and it
ain't any good to wish for that."

"I can see nothing, sergeant, and the sky seems blacker than the earth."

"Both about the same, sir, I think."

"It is so unfortunate, sergeant, just at a time like this."

"Oh, I don't know, sir; one ought to make the best of things, and weigh
one against another."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, we're bothered a good deal with the darkness, and we're
obliged to do what a human man don't like to do--trust to a dumb animal
instead of himself. Of course that's bad; but then, on the other side,
we're not running up against any of the enemy, and instead of hunting
for hours after a long ride and then not finding what we come for, here
we are not having a long dangerous ride at all, and him we wanted to
find tumbling right atop of us and in a way of speaking, saying,
`Looking for me, my lads? Here I am!'"

"Yes, we have been very fortunate," said Dickenson.

"Fortunate, sir? I call it downright lucky."

"Of course--it is. But can we do no more?"

"Not that I see, sir--feel, I mean. We might camp down and let the
horses feed till daylight."

"Oh no; let us keep on."

"Very well, sir; then there really is nothing we can do but trust to the
ponies. They somehow seem to see in the dark."

"Forward, then!"

At the end of another half-hour they drew rein