none of
'em was the right sort, why, you'd ha' said, `There's more ways of
killing a cat than hanging it,' and gone on another plan."

"What other plan?" I said sharply. "There is no other plan."

"Isn't there?" said the Sergeant, grinning. "They've got one wagon that
I can swear to, having made it out through the glass Mr Denham lent me,
full of spare rifles of the men put out of action."

"Of course, of course," cried Denham. "Oh dear! oh dear!" he groaned,
falling back again with a pitiful look in his eyes. "I'm lying here,
completely done for. Why can't that doctor put us right?"

The Sergeant smoked on for a few minutes, looking fiercer than ever.

"Where's Sam Wren, sir?" he said suddenly.

"He was fretting so much last night at being kept in hospital," I
replied, "that the doctor said he might rejoin his troop."

"Glad of that. He's one of our best shots. But what's gone of your
blacky, Mr Moray?"

"Joeboy? I don't know," I said. "Isn't he with the horses? Oh, of
course he'd be looking after mine."

"He ain't, then," said the Sergeant.

"What!" I cried excitedly; "then what about my horse? I've been lying
here thinking of nothing but myself. I ought to have seen to him."

"Couldn't," said the Sergeant dryly. "But he's all right."

"Are you sure?" I cried.

The Sergeant nodded. "I saw to him myself. I like that horse."

"Oh Sergeant!" I said, with a feeling of relief. "But what about
Joeboy? I did wonder once why he had not been to see me."

"I didn't look after him, sir," said the Sergeant. "He's a sort of
free-lancer, and not under orders."

"But when did you see him last?" I asked.

"Well, I'm a bit puzzled about that. I say, hear that?"

"Hear them? Yes, of course," said Denham angrily. "The brutes! The
cowards! Oh, if I were only well!"

"Oh, let 'em alone, sir," said the Sergeant coolly as, beginning with a
few scattered shots, the firing outside had rapidly increased. "They're
doing no harm. Do you know what it is?"

"Our poor fellows exposing themselves thoughtlessly, I suppose," said
Denham bitterly.

"Only their hats, sir. It's about the only pleasure the poor lads have.
It's a game they have for pennies. Some one invented it yesterday.
Six of 'em play, and put on a penny each. Each game lasts five minutes,
and the players put their hats upon the top of a stone. Then the man
who has most bullets through his hat takes the pool."

"What folly!"