age you to talk."

"Good old man. Well, I'm as quiet as a mouse, and you are not going to
encourage me to talk. I haven't felt inclined to, either, since I got
back. I don't suppose it has been so, but I've felt as if all the veins
in my head were swollen up, and it has made me stupid and strange, and
as if I couldn't say what I wanted, and I haven't tried to speak for
fear I should wander away. But I say, Bob, did I go in to see Roby
lying wounded when I came back?"

"Yes."

"Ah, then that wasn't imagination. It's like something seen through a
mist. It has all been like looking through glass cloudy and thick over
since we rushed the Boers."

"Look here," said Dickenson, rising; "I must go now."

"Nonsense; you've only just come. Sit down, man; you won't hurt me. Do
me good.--That's right. I want to ask you something."

"No, no; you'd better not talk."

"What nonsense! I'm beginning to suffer now from what fine people call
_ennui_. Not much in my way, old fellow. You're doing me good. I say,
look here. Something has been bothering me like in my dreams. You say
I did go in to see poor Roby?"

"Yes; but look here, Drew, old man," cried Dickenson, "if you get on
that topic I must go."

"No, no; stay. I want to separate the fancy from the real. I've got an
idea in my head that Roby turned upon me in a tit of raving, and called
me a coward and a cur for running away and leaving him. Did I dream
that?"

"No," said Dickenson huskily. "He has been a good deal off his head.
He did shout something of that sort at you."

"Poor fellow!" said Lennox quietly. "But how horrible! Shot in the
forehead, wasn't he?"

"Bullet ploughed open the top of his head."

"I didn't see what was wrong with him in the rush. I can remember now,
quite clearly, seeing him go down, with his face streaming with blood."

"You recollect that?" said Dickenson excitedly, in spite of himself.

"Oh yes. The light was coming fast, and we were near where a lot of the
Boers were making for their mounts to get them away. One big fellow was
leading his pony, and as poor Roby was straggling blindly about, this
Boer ran at him, holding his rein in one hand, his rifle in the other,
and I saw him shorten it with his right to turn it into a club to bring
it down on Roby's head."

"All!" cried Dickenson, with increasing excitement, and he waited by
Lennox, who ceased speaking, and lay gazing calmly at the door. Then
all the doc