man excitedly. "They don't know when they're
beaten. Look at that."

For as he spoke the two little parties joined up again into one, sprang
off their ponies, and imitated Dickenson's manoeuvre, lying down and
beginning to shoot at long-range.

"I don't think they'll hurt us at that distance, sergeant," said
Dickenson.

"They'll hurt us if they can hit us, sir," replied the man; "but it's a
long way, and with their hands all of a shake from such a bit as they've
just gone through."

All the same, though, the bullets began to whistle overhead; then one
struck the ground about ten yards in front of the sergeant and
ricocheted, passing so near that the whiz was startling.

"That was well meant," he said coolly; "but I don't believe the chap who
sent it could do it again."

"Look at that poor fellow," said Dickenson suddenly.

"'Fraid of being hit by us or them, sir," replied the sergeant. "Not a
very pleasant place."

For the Boer who had thrown up his hands in token of surrender had begun
to crawl slowly and painfully to their right, evidently to get well out
of the line of fire. The man was evidently hit badly, for he kept on
sinking down flat on his face, and four times over a curious sensation
of regret came over Dickenson, mingled with a desire to go to his help
with such surgical aid as he could supply. But each time, just as he
was going to suggest it to the sergeant, the man rose on all fours again
and crawled farther away.

"I don't think he's much hurt, sir. Going pretty strong now."

The sergeant had hardly spoken before Dickenson uttered an ejaculation,
for the wounded man suddenly dropped down flat again and rolled over,
showing as one hand came into sight that he still grasped his rifle; and
then he was completely hidden, as if he had sunk into some slight
depression.

"Dead!" sighed Dickenson solemnly.

"Looks like it, sir," said the sergeant quietly.

"Or exhausted by his efforts," said Dickenson. "Look here, sergeant, a
man's a man."

"`For a' that, and a' that,' as the song says," muttered the sergeant to
himself.

"Whether he's one of our men or an enemy. I can't lie here, able to
help, without going to his help."

"No, no, sir; you mustn't stir," cried the sergeant excitedly. "If you
begin to move there'll be a shower of bullets cutting up the ground
about you. It's a good hundred and fifty yards to crawl."

"I can't help that," said Dickenson quietly. "I must do it."