He did not have long to wait; for the moment the Boer had fired he
slightly raised his head to try and mark the effect of his shot.

That was sufficient. Lennox squeezed rather than pulled the trigger,
and as the smoke rose the bush which had sheltered the Boer moved
violently for a few moments, and all was still there; while the young
officer quickly reloaded and waited to see if another man took his
enemy's place.

CHAPTER TWO.

WHAT THEY CAUGHT.

"Serve him right!" Dickenson growled more than spoke. "There's another
chap creeping away yonder so as to enfilade us from the left."

"Well, you know what to do," said Lennox grimly.

Dickenson uttered a grunt, and, paying no further heed to the bullets
that kept on spattering about the rocks, every now and then striking up
a shower of loose stones, waited, patiently watching a spot that he had
marked down a couple of hundred yards away up the river to his left.
For he had seen one of the most pertinacious of their aggressors draw
back, apparently without reason.

"He couldn't have known that I meant to pick him out for my next shot,"
the young officer said to himself, "and he couldn't have been hurt, so
he's up to the same sort of game as that fellow old Lennox brought
down."

He turned his head sharply, not on account of a bullet coming too close,
but to learn the effect of another shot from his companion.

"Hit or miss?" he said gruffly.

"Hit," was the laconic reply.

Dickenson had only glanced round, and then fixed his eyes once more upon
the little clump of bushes he had before noted.

"That's the place he'll show at for certain," he muttered, and getting
the wight of his rifle well upon one particular spot where a big grey
stone reared itself up level with the tops of the bushes, he waited for
quite five minutes, which were well dotted with leaden points.

"Ha! I was right," said Dickenson to himself, for all at once he caught
a glimpse of the barrel of a rifle reared up and then lowered down over
the top of the stone in his direction.

The distance was great, and the rifle-barrel looked no larger than a
metal ramrod, but the clearness of the South African air showed it
plainly enough; and hugging himself closer together, the young officer
laid his cheek close to the stock of his piece, closed his left eye, and
glanced along the barrel, waiting for the opportunity he felt sure must
come.

The excitement of the moment made his heart beat