ed order, and the
engine had moved on just when the line was clear.

"Captain Wyllie was shot in the thigh and dropped. Sergeant Tod, who had
also been injured in the hand, went to the Captain's assistance and
built up a cover of stones as a protection against rifle-fire. Just as
he was lying down a shell burst right in front, scattering the stones in
all directions, and some of the pieces struck Tod in the hip, inflicting
an ugly but not a serious wound.

"The engine in the meantime had gone forward, and was brought by
Lieutenant Churchill to pick up as many wounded as could be found.
Captain Wyllie and Tod were taken up on the tender, and the engine went
on some distance farther, when Captain Haldane of the Gordons and
Lieutenant Churchill jumped off and joined the men fighting their way
back; but the Boers were now closing all round, and the engine barely
got through."

The _Echo_, in a leading article, spoke warmly of Mr. Churchill's
exploit. It said: "In this affair Mr. Churchill, though a non-combatant,
displayed the courage of his stock, and cheered the men in the work of
rescuing the wounded and the bodies of the dead, crying, 'Come on, men!'
with all the courage that his father showed in political warfare or his
great ancestor on the fields of Blenheim or Malplaquet. When the engine
steamed off, Mr. Churchill remained behind to help. Every one will hope
that he is not killed."

It is somewhat interesting here to note Mr. Churchill's soliloquy on his
journey in an armoured train, published in the _Morning Post_ at the
very time the noble fellow was suffering for his bravery on an identical
trip. "This armoured train," he said, "is a very puny specimen, having
neither gun nor Maxims, with no roof to its trucks and no shutters to
its loopholes, and being in every way inferior to the powerful machines
I saw working along the southern frontier. Nevertheless it is a useful
means of reconnaissance, nor is a journey in it devoid of interest. An
armoured train! The very name sounds strange; a locomotive disguised as
a knight-errant--the agent of civilisation in the habiliments of
chivalry. Mr. Morley attired as Sir Lancelot would seem scarcely more
incongruous. The possibilities of attack added to the keenness of the
experience. We started at one o'clock. A company of the Dublin Fusiliers
formed the garrison. Half were in the car in front of the engine, half
in that behind. Three empty trucks, with a plate-laying ga