a mood as aggressive as
our own. They were led with a dash, and handled with a skill, which
did not always characterize their commanders at this stage of the war.
Their position was very similar to ours, and indeed we were to spend
the whole of next day in trying with an equal will to turn each other
out. The result will scarcely be forgotten by those who recognize the
occasion from these remarks. Meanwhile it was the eve of battle (most
evenings were), and there was that villain with the horses in the
donga, and here were we two upon his track.

Raffles's plan was to reconnoitre the place, and then take up a
position from which we could watch our man and pounce upon him if he
gave us cause. The spot that we eventually chose and stealthily
occupied was behind some bushes through which we could see down into
the donga; there were the precious horses; and there sure enough was
our wounded corporal, sitting smoking in his cloak, some glimmering
thing in his lap.

"That's his revolver, and it's a Mauser," whispered Raffles. "He
shan't have a chance of using it on us; either we must be on him before
he knows we are anywhere near, or simply report. It's easily proved
once we are sure; but I should like to have the taking of him too."

There was a setting moon. Shadows were sharp and black. The man
smoked steadily, and the hungry horses did what I never saw horses do
before; they stood and nibbled at each other's tails. I was used to
sleeping in the open, under the jewelled dome that seems so much
vaster and grander in these wide spaces of the earth. I lay listening
to the horses, and to the myriad small strange voices of the veldt, to
which I cannot even now put a name, while Raffles watched. "One head
is better than two," he said, "when you don't want it to be seen." We
were to take watch and watch about, however, and the other might sleep
if he could; it was not my fault that I did nothing else; it was
Raffles who could trust nobody but himself. Nor was there any time for
recriminations when he did rouse me in the end.

But a moment ago, as it seemed to me, I had been gazing upward at the
stars and listening to the dear, minute sounds of peace; and in another
the great gray slate was clean, and every bone of me set in plaster of
Paris, and sniping beginning between pickets with the day. It was an
occasional crack, not a constant crackle, but the whistle of a bullet
as it passed us by, or a tiny tra