yes, regularly."

"Then why don't the Boers shoot them, so as to make them helpless?"

The Sergeant chuckled.

"Colonel's too smart for them," he said. "The bullocks are sent out in
the day with a strong guard on foot to keep behind the oxen, but the
horses go out as soon as it's dark, every one with his man to lead him,
and all ready for an attack. Ah! but it's miserable work, and I shall
be very glad when you two gentlemen are ready to mount again, so that we
can go."

"You'll have to go without us, Briggs," said Denham sadly. "I don't
suppose the Boers will shoot us if we're taken prisoners."

"That's just what the Colonel's likely to do, sir. It's his regular way
with his men. I must be off now, though. Time's up. You'll like to
see this, though, Mr Denham?"

The Sergeant began to fumble in his pouch, bringing out several
cartridges before he found what he wanted--a dirty-looking piece of
milky quartz.

"What have you got there?" we asked in a breath.

"Stuff the men are finding in a hole at the back of the cook's
fireplace."

"Why, it's gold ore," I said eagerly.

"Nonsense! What do you know about it?" said Denham, turning the lump
over in his hand.

"I know because pieces like that are in the kopje near my home. Joeboy
could find plenty like that. He took some to my father once, and father
said it was gold."

"Then you've got a mine on your farm?"

"I suppose so; but father said we'd better get rich by increasing the
flocks and herds. Look there," I said; "all those are veins of gold,
and those others are crystals and scales."

"There, catch, Sergeant," said Denham bitterly. "We don't want gold; we
want health, and a way out of this prison."

"That's right, sir; and if you like I'll try and come and tell you how
things are going to-night."

"Yes, do," cried Denham. Then the Sergeant thrust his piece of gold ore
and quartz back into his pouch, and marched away.

"Val, old chap," said Denham as soon as we were alone, "that fellow
seemed to cheer me up a bit while he was here."

"Yes," I said; "he roused me up too."

"But now he's gone I'm down again lower and lower than ever I was
before. I begin to wish I were dead. Oh dear! who'd be a wounded man
who feels as helpless as a child?"

I was silent.

"Is that doctor ever coming to see us again?"

"Yes," said a sharp, clear voice. "Now then, most impatient of all
patients, how are you getting on?"

"Getting ready for the