ranks. As he took his place the square halted, and an excited
murmur rose on all sides:--

"Here they come!--Thank God! they're going to charge!"

CHAPTER XX.

THE RIVER'S BRINK.

"Then he could see that the bright colours were faded from his uniform;
but whether they had been washed off during his journey, or from the
effects of his sorrow, no one could say."--_The Brave Tin Soldier_.

Darkness had fallen, and a thick mist rising from the river made the
still, night air damp and penetrating; but the weary men, stretched out
upon the sand, slept soundly in spite of the cold, and of the scanty
protection from it afforded by their clothing. The dark figures of the
sentries surrounding the bivouac, moving slowly to and fro, or pausing
to rest on their arms, seemed the only signs of wakefulness, except
where the occasional gleam of a lantern shone out as the surgeons went
their rounds among the wounded.

Jack, however, was not asleep. He seemed instead to be just waking up
from a troubled dream, in which all that had happened since he had seen
Valentine placed upon the stretcher had passed before his mind in a
confused jumble of sights and sounds, leaving only a vague recollection
of what had really taken place:--The oncoming mass of Arabs; the crash
of the volleys, changing into the continuous roar of independent
firing; the pungent reek of the powder as the rolling clouds of smoke
enveloped the square; and the sight of the enemy falling in scores,
wavering, slackening the pace of their advance, and finally retreating
over the distant hills, not one having reached the line of bayonets.
Then, in the growing dusk, as the square advanced, the sight of the
silver stream showing every now and again amidst the green, cultivated
strip of land upon its banks; the wild joy of men suffering the
tortures of a burning thirst, which swelled their tongues and blackened
their lips; and the pitiful sight of the wounded being held up that
they might catch a glimpse of the distant river; the wait on the brink
of the broad stretch of cool, priceless water, as each face of the
square moved up in turn to take its fill; and then, no sucking the
dregs of a warm water-bottle, but a long, cold, satisfying drink.

[Illustration: "The oncoming mass of Arabs."]

All this, though so recently enacted, seemed to have left but a faint
impression of its reality on Jack's mind; his one absorbing thought
being that Valentine was hit, bad