six-and-thirty; and here's big George wiping one eye on his cuff."

"Sweat, Sergeant, sweat," growled a rough voice, and there was a laugh
from other three men.

"That was a lie, George," said the Sergeant. "Why don't you own up like
a man?"

"Well, 'nuff to make any one turn soft when he's cooling down after a
fight like this. Look at them two poor fellows here."

"Ah!" came in chorus, as the men standing around bent down in sympathy.

"'Tention!" cried the Sergeant. "Here. Files one and three mount guard
front and rear of this dropsical timber-wagon. Two and four get some
water. First aid here. Stop a minute. No; kneel down and just rub
their legs gently as if you were trying to take out those furrows made
by the ropes.--Why, your legs and feet are like stone, sir."

"Are they?" said Denham, quietly now, as he reached forward to shake the
Sergeant's hand. "I didn't know--I don't feel as if I had any legs at
all. There," he added excitedly, "I want to shake hands with you all
round. It's so much better than being shot in the morning."

"Ay--ay!" cried the men eagerly.

"Oh, never mind our hurts."

"But we must, sir. I didn't know you were an orfficer at first," said
the Sergeant. "I say, look at your head."

"I can't," said Denham, with a faint attempt at mirth which was very
pitiful.

"Well, I can, sir, and you can look at your comrade's. Did the Boers do
that too?"

"No," cried Denham fiercely; "it was a brute of a renegade Irishman
serving with the Boers."

"Is he out yonder now, sir?" said the Sergeant, giving his head a side
jerk in the direction from which, in the darkness, came the sound of
cheering and scattered shots.

"Yes, I believe so," said Denham.

"Then I'm sorry for him, that's all," said the Sergeant dryly.

"Ah! Do you think your men are whipping them?"

"Think!" cried the Sergeant scornfully. "Think, sir? Why, we've got at
'em at last with the bay'net. They've been playing at shooting behind a
stone and firing at a target--targets being us--till we've been sick of
it, and then up on horse and gallop away; but we've got at 'em at last
with the bay'net, and there's no need to think."

"But," I cried excitedly, as I strained my ears to listen, "they're
coming back."

"Eh?" cried the Sergeant. "Here, files two and four support one and
three. Hold your fire till they're close in, and then receive 'em on
your bay'nets."

The two men who were chafing our deadene