ssed on him more closely than ever.

And that was a week ago; and the week between had been one long trek
in search of errant Boers. Weldon still rode in the front of the
column. He had been ordered into hospital; but, bracing himself, he
had looked the doctor steadily between the eyes and had refused to
obey. The hospital was not for him--as yet. "By Jove!" Carew was
remarking deliberately. "Look at the horses!"

Noses in air, tails lashing and eyes staring wildly, the frightened
groups had swept together and were rushing down upon them in one mad
stampede. Straight towards the two troopers they came dashing along,
swerved slightly and went sweeping past them, wrapped in a thick
column of dust which parted, just as the horde rushed by, before the
fierce impact of the breaking storm. From zenith to horizon, the
leaden sky was marked with wavering lines of golden fire; but the
shock of the thunder was outborne by the clash of falling hail. Half
a mile away, the tents were riddled by the egg-sized lumps of ice;
and, out on the open veldt, Carew threw himself on the earth, face
downward, and buried his head in his sheltering arms. But Weldon
staggered to his feet. In the thick of the flying troop of horses,
he had seen the little gray broncho, and now, before she swept on
out of hearing, he turned his back to the gale and gave a high,
shrill whistle. It was months, now, since Piggie had learned that
call. Again and again she had come trotting up to him, to rub her
muzzle against his neck in token that she had heard and understood.
There was scant chance that the call would be carried to her by the
boisterous wind, scanter chance still that, hearing it now in that
mad rout, she would heed. Nevertheless, Weldon took the chance.
Obviously stampeded by the enemy, the missing horses would leave the
column powerless to repel the attack which was imminent. If Piggie
could be recalled, there was still a chance to regain the other
mounts. Yet, even while he was weighing all the chances, he smiled
to himself as he recalled the ineffectual little whistle that had
gone out on the whistling wind. The chance was gone. Like Carew, he
would lie down and seek what shelter he could get from the earth and
from his own clasping arms.

The hail, falling thickly, shut down about the troop of horses and
took them from his sight. If his eyes could have followed them, he
would have seen one little gray head toss itself upward from the
heart of