nough to make me. It's enough to
make a fellow desert. Here, I know; I'll do something. It's all the
fault of that miserable renegade. I'll go in and half-kill him--an
insolent, insulting brute!"

Just then Denham, who was as fearless as any man in the ranks when out
with the corps, started violently in his alarm; for a hail came from
high up on the wall in the Colonel's familiar voice; and upon looking
up, there he was, glass in hand, looking down at us.

"Denham," cried the Colonel, "run to the Major. Tell him to come here
to me at once, and bring his glass."

"Yes, sir," cried my companion.--"Come with me, Val. My word! He gave
me such a turn, as the old women say; I thought he'd heard me again.
Hurrah, old fellow! there's something up, and no mistake. I shan't get
that tongue-flogging after all."

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

DENHAM PROVES TO BE RIGHT.

In a few minutes the Major had joined the Colonel, and soon every
officer and man in the old fortification was waiting breathlessly for
information as to what intelligence regarding the movements of the enemy
the two stern-looking men up on the wall were gathering into their
brains through their glasses--intelligence far beyond the ken of the
sentries, whose duty it was to keep strict watch upon the great circle
which was formed by the Boer lines.

There was no hurry or bustle; but our trumpeter had buckled his
sword-belt and taken down his instrument from where it hung, and then
stationed himself upon one of the blocks of stone in the great
courtyard, watching his chiefs, and holding his instrument ready, while
his eyes seemed about to start out of his head in his excitement.
Everywhere it was the same. Men glided about here and there, after a
glance at the ranges of rifles against the wall, with their well-filled
bandoliers, and only paused at last where each could dart to his horse,
ready to saddle and bridle the tethered beast. The officers were also
silently preparing--buckling on their swords, taking revolvers from
their belt-holsters, and filling the chambers from their
cartridge-pouches, quite mechanically, without taking their eyes off the
watchers on the wall. But in spite of all these preparations no sounds
were heard save those made by the horses--an impatient stamp or pawing
at the stones, followed by a snort or a whinnying neigh.

I did as the rest had done. Meeting Denham after his return from the
sheltered spot occupied by the offi