e distant rifle
fire, and men raised their heads to watch the effect of the shrapnel,
as each shot sped away on its deadly errand.

Even amid such surroundings, hunger asserted itself; and breakfast was
served out, a good draught of hot tea being specially acceptable after
the long exposure to the cold night air.

"When you're on active service, eat and sleep whenever you can," said
Sergeant Sparks, munching away at his bully beef and biscuit. "There's
never no telling when you'll get another chance."

Bands of the enemy kept appearing and disappearing in the distance;
spear-heads and sword-blades flashed and glittered in the rosy morning
sunlight, and the tom-toms kept up a continual thunder; but still there
was no sign of an attack.

Jack longed to be doing something. He lay on the ground nervously
digging pits with his fingers in the soft sand, listening to the
monotonous murmur of conversation going on around him, and the constant
z--st! z--st! of bullets flying over and into the zareba. Now and
again he exchanged a few remarks with "Swabs" or Joe Crouch; and when
at length he was told off to join a party of skirmishers, he sprang up
and seized his rifle with a sigh of relief.

Moving out in extended order to the right front of the zareba, they
marched forward a short distance, then halted, and lay down to fire a
volley.

"Ready, at eleven hundred yards. Now, men, be steady, and take your
time."

"Swabs" was in his element. He sprawled his legs wide apart, rooted
his left elbow into the sand, and settled down as though he were firing
for the battalion badge on the range at Melchester. Our hero was not
quite so cool; his heart thumped and his fingers twitched as he
adjusted the sliding bar of his back-sight.

"Aim low--present--fire!"

The rifles were discharged with a simultaneous crash.

"Good volley," said Mr. Lawson, who was kneeling, peering through his
field-glass; "a bit short, I'm afraid; put your sights up to
eleven-fifty."

Jack opened the breach of his rifle with a sharp jerk, and drew a long
breath. For the life of him he could not have told whether his aim had
been good or bad, but this much he knew, that he had fired his first
shot in actual conflict.

The skirmishers retired; but still the enemy hung back, too wary to
attempt a charge. At length the order was given for an advance, and
preparations were accordingly made for forming a moving square. The
various detachments march