"Sure it's wid wan eye open we've got to slape whin the murtherin' rascals come down on us like that," observed Corporal Flynn, when the firing had slackened to a few dropping shots on both sides. "Av they'd only stand fornint us in the open, it's short work we'd make o' them. There's no more pluck in them than in my smallest finger." It seemed as if righteous retribution were being meted out that night, for a spent ball entered the fort at that moment and, strange to say, hit the extreme tip of the corporal's little finger! A howl, as much of surprise as pain, apprised his comrades of the fact, and a hearty laugh followed when the trifling extent of the injury was ascertained. "Serves you right, Flynn, for boasting," said Armstrong, with a grim smile, as he stretched himself out and rested his head on a sandbag. "Moreover, you are unjust, for these black fellows are as brave a lot o' men as British troops have ever had to face. Good-night, boys, I'm off to the land of Nod!" CHAPTER THIRTEEN. TELLS OF SOME OF THE TRIALS, UNCERTAINTIES, DANGERS, AND DISASTERS OF WAR. Uncertain moonlight, with a multitude of cloudlets drifting slowly across the sky so as to reveal, veil, partially obscure, or sometimes totally blot out the orb of night, may be a somewhat romantic, but is not a desirable, state of things in an enemy's country, especially when that enemy is prowling among the bushes. But such was the state of things one very sultry night when our hero found himself standing in the open alone, and with thoughts of a varied and not wholly agreeable nature for his companions. He was on sentry duty. It was intensely dark when the clouds partially veiled the moon, for she was juvenile at the time--in her first quarter; and when the veil was partially removed, the desert, for it was little better, assumed an indistinct and ghostly-grey appearance.