and rolling down the hill, his head almost smashed in by a shell which
had struck him. But his bullet took effect. Swishing close by Jack, it
hit Guy with a dull thud in the thigh, causing him to stumble and crash
down upon the grass.

"All right, old boy!" cried Jack immediately, standing across his body
and plunging his bayonet deep into the chest of a young Boer.

"That's it, Jack. Keep them off!" Guy answered weakly; "I'm hit in the
leg, but can fire my rifle."

Next second both were hotly engaged, for the enemy, who had drawn back
for the moment, rushed upon them again, and while some fired their
rifles, others swung theirs over their heads and bit with all their
strength. But the keen, gleaming bayonet, darting angrily here and
there, kept them at arm's-length, and not content with that, Jack gave a
defiant shout, and, springing forward, threw himself upon them,
transfixing one with his murderous blade, and knocking a second
senseless with the butt of his rifle.

Meanwhile Guy had calmly opened his magazine, and as the burghers
returned to the attack he picked them off one by one. But it was an
uneven contest, and another minute would have seen both of them killed
or captured, when there was a roaring cheer from behind, and down the
hill, careless of the pelting bullets, swept the brawny, kilted sons of
Scotland and the fearless and lithe little riflemen, their bayonets at
the charge and the light of battle in their gleaming eyes.

At the sight the Boers drew back for one brief moment, and Jack and Guy
regained their friends, the latter forgetting the agony of his wound in
the excitement of the moment. Then, plucking up their courage and
remembering their desperate resolve, the burghers turned to face the
oncoming line of bayonets with a bravery which none of their fellows had
ever shown before. With one fierce shout they ranged themselves
together, poured in a volley, and rushed like a tide up the hill to meet
the avalanche of terrible steel now pouring down it. A minute later the
two forces met with a crash, but the result was never for a moment
doubtful. The British onrush was not even checked. There was a fierce
lunging of rifles, a succession of awful groans, and the Boers were
gone, all swept to the ground, save a few who were now racing away for
their lives. And after them the gallant English troops sent a scathing
volley, and then stood watching them, shouting hoarsely to them, and
more th