led as widely as he could.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A FORLORN-HOPE FOR FOOD.

Sergeant Briggs stared, and looked so puzzled that we laughed the more.

"Beg pardon, gentlemen," he said, speaking as if huffed, "have I said
something stoopid?"

"Tell him, Val," cried Denham; and I explained why we laughed.

"Oh, I see," he said good-humouredly. "I thought I was being laughed
at. Well, I don't know, Mr Denham, sir; I don't think the idee's quite
so wild as you fancy."

"Oh, it's impossible, Sergeant."

"No, sir, begging your pardon, it isn't. It's the cheek of the thing
might carry it off. I like it."

"Yes; your mouth waters for the stores, Sergeant."

"Maybe, sir; but if I was you I should go straight to the Colonel and
tell him."

"So as to be laughed at for a fool," said Denham. "The chief's in no
laughing humour, sir," said the Sergeant stolidly. "He ought to be in
hospital with that cut on the leg he got; but he won't give up, though
I've seen him turn whitey-brown and come out all over the face with big
drops. That means pain. No; he won't laugh."

"Then he'll growl at us, and tell us to be off for a pair of idiots."

"Well, I'll risk it," I said firmly.

"Will you? Young fellow," cried Denham, "don't you presume on my
friendliness and forget that you're a private in my troop."

"It's my duty to let the Colonel know," I said warmly.

"Yes, through your superior officer. Well, look here; perhaps you're
right. Let's go to him at once."

We descended after another look at the Boer lines, and found the Colonel
resting against a block of granite, with his injured leg lying in a bed
of sand. He listened attentively, after Denham's introduction, to all I
had to say. Then he sat in perfect silence, frowning, and tugging at
his long moustache. I was as uncomfortable as ever I had been, and
wished I had not come; but soon a change came over me, for the Colonel
spoke.

"Capital," he said sharply. "But--"

My hopes went down to zero again, but rose as he went on, taking the
right line of thought: "It can only be done by sheer bravado. It is the
utter recklessness of the ruse that would carry it through. Do you
think, Moray, you could do this without breaking down at the supreme
moment?"

"I think so, sir."

"That's good," said the Colonel; "there's a frank modesty about that
`think.' But do you dare to run the risk for the sake of your officers
and brother-privates, who are in a ve