"But I can't go on. Let me stay back and try and help him," I said passionately. "Certainly not. Be sensible. Look here: you don't know that he's hit." "But he dropped from behind that stone." "Yes; but that may be his dodge. Perhaps he's gliding back under cover from stone to stone." "Perhaps," I said bitterly. "Look here: if this is your way of going to work I've had enough of soldiering." I rode on unwillingly, expecting to hear a furious tirade from my companion, who still held my rein; but he was silent for a few minutes, while the bullets kept on spattering and whizzing about us without hitting any one. "So you're tired of soldiering--are you?" said Denham at last. "Yes," I said hotly. "I never felt such a coward before." "Rubbish! Look here: you want me to expose my little detachment to the fire of that strongly-posted crowd of Boers, and get half of them shot down, so as to try and pick up your servant." "No, I don't," I replied sharply. "There's plenty of cover here. I should have got the men behind some of these blocks of stone and returned the fire, so as to keep the enemy in check while I sent two men dismounted to try and bring my man--our guide--in, alive or dead." "Humph!" said my companion shortly. "Why, I begin to think you are a better soldier than I am;" and, to my intense surprise, he halted the party behind a huge block which divided our way, dismounted half, and sent them out right and loft to seek cover from whence they could reply to the enemy's fire. Then he turned to me. "You must hold two horses," he said. "I'll send two fellows to steal up the gap from stone to stone to try and pick up your man." "No, no," I said excitedly. "I'll go alone." "Suppose you find him wounded, or--" "Dead?" I said, finishing his sentence. "Yes: you couldn't carry him in." "No," I said, with a sigh. "I'm lame still from the injury to my foot. It hurts me so badly at times that I can hardly ride." "Hurrah!" came from the right, and the cheer was taken up from the left, while _crack, crack, crack_, rifles were being brought well into play. "What does that mean?" said Denham. "Have they brought down one of the Dutchmen?" He pressed his horse's sides and rode out from behind the great stone, while I followed him, to learn directly what was the meaning of the cheering. It was plain enough, for there, about five hundred yards up the narrow pass, was Joeboy coming after us at a quick run, dodging round the great stones, and pretty well contriving to keep them between him and the enemy, whose rifles kept on spitting bullets fiercely after him. It was as Denham had suggested. Joeboy had leaped down from behind the stone as soon as he had drawn the enemy's fire, then started to follow us, running the gauntlet of their bullets, and reaching us in a very short time, flushed, triumphant, and very little out of breath. "Well," cried Denham, "see the Boers?" "Um!" replied Joeboy.