, a leaping column of smoke
and dust, and a faint answering report told that the missile had done
its allotted work inside the sangar which protected the Boer gun. That
evening, after a scanty meal consisting of horse-soup, known as
"chevral", and a piece of beef suspiciously unlike that usually
provided, Jack bade his friends good-bye.

"We'll go along and look after your pony," said Tom Salter, with a
knowing wink, a few minutes before his departure. "Come along, Frank,
and you too, Wilfred, while Jack picks up his traps and settles himself.
Now bustle up, boys, or else we shall find that someone has got hold of
his mount, and perhaps has started already turning him into sausages."

All at once sprang to their feet and left the underground chamber, Frank
Russel turning round just as he was stepping out, and smiling kindly at
Jack and at Eileen. Then with "So long, my lad, I'll see you later," he
ran up the steps and disappeared from sight.

It was an awkward moment. Standing close to the table, with one hand
grasping the back of a chair, was Eileen Russel, her beautiful face lit
up by the lamp, and clearly showing the pain which this parting would
give her. Close to the door was Jack. Sturdy, handsome, and stalwart,
dressed in riding-breeches and gaiters, a khaki jacket, and a
wide-brimmed hat, and with his upper lip adorned by a thin line of fair
hair, which looked almost white when contrasted with his sunburnt face,
he was a young man whom any of the gentle sex might have looked upon
with pleasure. But when one knew that behind those smiling eyes there
lurked a determined will, and that beneath that coat beat a heart as
kindly and as brave as any man possessed, it should not seem wonderful
that Eileen had long ago fallen in love with him. He was no namby-pamby
lad, given to soft manners and flattery, but a brusque young fellow,
kind, considerate, but undoubtedly shy, and a man, moreover, who had
already made a good name for himself for bravery. She herself had
witnessed his courage. It was he who had rescued her from the Boer
ruffians in her father's house, and from that day Jack had been her
hero. And now he was to go, to leave her and run still further risks.
It was hard indeed, and her lips trembled at the thought.

"Good-bye, Jack!" she said, tearfully, holding out her hand, but not
trusting herself to look at him. "Good-bye, and do take care of
yourself!"

Jack walked across to her, and, taking