s it masked by
the rocks. The report, however, directed them right, and just as
Kavanagh was slipping from the pillar to the ground, he heard a voice
say--

"Here he is, sir!" and saw comrades close, though their voices sounded
somehow a long way off.

"My eye, you have had a good bout, mate;" one said to him, "but where is
the other fellow?"

"In there," replied Kavanagh, faintly; "don't kill him, he's a good
'un."

"Dinna kill him, indeed!" said Macintosh, presently, as he bent over the
body of the Arab and took his scarf for bandages. "There's nae much
need for any one to do that!"

Kavanagh's wounds were rudely bound up, just to check the bleeding for
the present, and the officer having some spirits in a flask gave him a
drain, and asked him if he thought he could walk down to camp. Being
somewhat revived, he said he could, and set out, supported by a couple
of men, one on each side. It was a slow progress, but the distance was
not great, and he managed to get down all right, and then a surgeon
dressed his wounds for him.

"The bandolier and a tobacco-pipe in the pocket of your kharkee jacket
have done you a good turn, my lad," he said; "for the body cut has gone
right through them, and might have been fatal but for that resistance.
It is pretty deep as it is, but you will be all right; and your other
hurts are not serious, only sword cuts. But your little finger will not
grow again, you know."

The wounds might not be serious in a surgeon's estimation, but they were
very painful, and to feel so weak and helpless was depressing to the
spirits. The attack, however, had been successful, and the handful of
sharp-shooters killed or effectually dispersed, for no more shots were
fired at the convoy either that evening, during the night, or on the
following morning, when it got under weigh again. So he had the
pleasure of reflecting that his discomforts were not altogether incurred
in vain. The most provoking thing he found was to be told that he was
so very lucky only to be slashed all over with sword cuts, and not to
have any bullet wounds. What he had got ached and smarted and throbbed
to an extent calculated to try the patience of Job, and what was the use
of endeavouring to persuade him that he was one of the favourites of
fortune? He succeeded to the seat on a camel vacated by the ill-fated
Binks, and every jolt hurt his side; the head and hand wounds were not
much affected by the motion, but ever