"And you got there unseen?" said Denham. "That's right, sir; and then the Colonel in command of both lots let this Crystal Minstrel go to warn the cavalry." "He has done his work cleverly, Sergeant, or our corps could not have worked with you so well." "That's right again, sir. I quite took to that chap, Joeboy, as he called himself; but it's a pity he's so jolly black." I had been listening quietly while all this talk went on; but, with a heavy and fast-increasing feeling of depression, I could restrain myself no longer, and exclaimed, "Oh Denham, suppose the poor fellow's killed!" "What, sir!" cried the Sergeant cheerily. "Killed? Who's to kill a chap like that on a dark night? Nobody could see where to hit. Besides, he goes through grass and bushes and rocks like a short, thick boa-constructor. He'll turn up all right. Hurrah! Hear that?" We could hear, distinctly enough, repeated bugle-calls and the frantic cheering of our men. Our little forces had gained a complete victory, scattering the enemy in all directions, the morning light showing the terrible destruction caused by our onslaught. CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. A CLEAR SKY. The rising sun showed that the enemy had disappeared; but ample stores had been secured for those who had so long suffered severe privations. "Val," said Denham, "we must ride with our troop this week." "Of course," I said cheerfully; but I had my doubts. Some time later, after we had met our comrades again, we had a long visit from the Colonel. "Look here, young fellows," he said; "you're both invalids and cripples, so I'll wait till you're well before I have an inquiry into your conduct in leaving the fort without leave. I'm too busy now, and you are both too weak; but it will wait a bit. This matter must be thoroughly investigated." "He'll never say another word about it, Val," prophesied Denham. He never did. Immediately after our interview with our Colonel, Denham and I lay in our wagon--ours by right of conquest--with the doctor looking at our injuries in evident perplexity. "I never saw such a pair of scamps," he said. "Why, if every man behaved in the same way the life of a regimental surgeon wouldn't be worth living. Just as if I hadn't enough to attend to. Always in trouble." "Don't bully us, doctor," said Denham, "we're both in such pain." "Of course you are, my dear boys; so I'm going to have this wagon made into a sick-room for you." "Into a what?" cried Denham. "Nonsense; we want to join the ranks again to-morrow." "I suppose so," said the doctor fiercely; "but--you--will--not. Your wrists are bad enough, but look at your legs." "Bah! Hideous!" cried Denham. "Who wants to look at them?"