"Yes--no. Ah, I remember now," I cried eagerly, for it all came back. "Where have you been all this time?" The black smiled. "Um? Been to see Boss and Aunt Jenny." "You have?" I cried eagerly. "But stop a moment. You went after that Irish captain?" The black nodded, and, to my horror, his face contracted and his lips drew away from his white teeth, but not in a grin. I lay back looking at him wildly, and as I gazed in his eyes the appearance of his countenance made me shudder just then, lit up by the fiery glow of the sunset which flooded the place through the openings above the tilt. It seemed to me horrible, and for a long time I could not speak. At last the words came: "Did you know that he struck down Mr Denham, and nearly killed us both?" "Um? Yes. Soldiers tell Joeboy." "And you followed him?" "Um? Yes," came, accompanied by a nod. "And you've killed him with your assagai?" I said, with a shudder, as I glanced at where three of the deadly weapons lay at the side of my rough couch, across his shield. "Um? No. Nearly kill Joeboy." "Ah!" I cried, with a curious feeling of relief. "Joeboy run after him all away among the Doppies; when they shoot, Joeboy lie down, and then follow um till he see um. Then he shoot, and--look here." Joeboy held up his left arm, smiling, and I saw that it was roughly tied up with a piece of coarse homespun. "He wounded you?" "Um? Yes. Shot pistol, and make hole here." "And he got away unhurt?" "Um? Yes; this time," said the black. "Next time Joeboy make hole froo um somewhere. Hate um." "But your wound?" I said. "Is it bad?" "Um? Only little hole. Soon grow up again." "Now tell me, how are all the people at home--my father, my aunt, and Bob?" Joeboy shook his head. "What do you mean?" I said. "Haven't you seen them?" "Um? No; all gone right away. Doppies been and burnt all up. All gone." "What's that?" said Denham, who had been awakened by our talking--"the Boers have been and burnt up that jolly old farm?" "Um? Yes, Boss. All gone." "The brutes!" CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. THE DOCTOR'S DOSE. "Look here, Denham," said the doctor; "you're an ill-tempered, ungrateful, soured, discontented young beggar. You deserve to surfer.-- And as for you, sir," he continued, turning to me, "you're not much better." That was when we were what the doctor called convalescent--that is to say, it was about a fortnight after our terrible experience in the old mine-shaft, and undoubtedly fast approaching the time when we might return to duty. "Anything else, sir?" said Denham sharply. I said nothing, but I winced. "I dare say I could find a few more adjectives to illustrate your character, sir," said the doctor rather pompously; "but I think that will do." "So do I, sir," said Denham; "but let me tell you that you don't allow for our having to lie helpless here fretting our very hearts out because we can't join the ranks."