through its ranks, regardless of the
pitiless fire, then, sweeping around on the arc of a mammoth
circle, took up their position in the shelter of a walled kraal,
only a few hundred yards away. Then for a moment they halted, face
to face and in absolute silence.

Even after her mad race, the little gray broncho was breathing
deeply and easily; but Weldon could feel his own breath come short.
Banged in open order before him were a full half-hundred of the
enemy, bearded, black-coated, bandoliered, grim and stolid and ripe
of years. Beside him were the new captain of the troop and seven
men. They were and alert; but there were only nine of them in all.
And the rest of the troop, it seemed to him, were half the veldt-length
away. Vaguely he wondered whether their distant khaki coats
would look as purple as did the distant khaki-colored hills. Then,
quite inconsequently, as he raised his rifle, he noticed that one of
the Boers had a button hanging loosely on its threads from the front
of his coat. He was rather surprised, the next instant, to see the
Boer pitch forward headlong in the dust. It was some time afterward
that he thought to connect the falling with the crack of his own
rifle.

Piggie bounded sidewise, as the mount of the trooper next Weldon
dropped and lay whimpering like a hurt child. Then she steadied to
the touch of Weldon's hand upon her neck. It was not the first time
he had guided her, unscathed, through a leaden shower. She would
trust him yet once again. As he raised his rifle, her wiry legs were
as steady as four iron rods. He saw another Boer fall and yet
another and a third; but one khaki-colored figure lay stiffly beside
him, and another was dragging itself away to a corner of the kraal,
to give greater space to its unwounded comrades. And still the
bullets whizzed about them, thick and ever thicker.

Piggie shied again. This time a bullet had grazed her neck, and the
sight of the narrow sear filled Weldon's mind with a dull,
unreasoning rage. Brutal to aim at the plucky mounts who bore their
riders so gallantly into the flight where all defensive power was
denied themselves! He paused long enough to pat the firm gray neck,
to feel the answering pressure against his hand. Then he raised his
rifle again and took careful aim, as he breathed a wordless prayer
that chance might guide his bullet into the man who had scarred his
faithful friend. Another Boer dropped; Weldon hoped it was by his
own bul