"No," I said sharply. "I think he only wants getting on to a bed, to lie till the shock of his hurt has passed away." "Yes, that's it," said the trooper; "bed's a grand thing for nearly everything. I never knew how grand it was till I came on this business and had to sleep out here on the stones. You haven't begun to find out what it is to be away from your bed at times." "I've slept out on the veldt or up in a kopje scores of times," I replied, "and have grown used to it." "Oh!" said my companion, glancing at me to see if I was telling the truth. Then, apparently satisfied, he continued: "I wish those who made this war had to do all the fighting. I'm sick of it." "Already?" I said. "Yes; I was sick of it before we began to hit out. What's the sense of it? Here am I, five-and-twenty, hale, hearty, and strong, trying to get shot. But of course one had to come. I mean to make some of them pay for it, though." "But you volunteered." "Of course. I say, though, I don't wonder at you making a run for it. Nice game to have to fight on the enemy's side! I should like that--oh yes, very much indeed! My rifle would have gone off by accident sometimes and hit the wrong man. I say, though, oughtn't the Colonel to hear all this firing, and come up to help us?" "That's what I've been thinking," I replied. "I should be very glad if we saw him on ahead. But we must have a couple of miles to go yet to join them--mustn't we?" "Yes, quite that; but, my word!" cried my companion, "they're going it now. They're firing shots enough to bring down every one of our rear-guard." "Yes; and it will be our turn again directly, when they trot on." "They ought to be here by now," continued my new comrade. "I don't believe they'll come." "Why?" I said anxiously. "They'll all be shot down." "Nonsense," I said. "Listen; those are their rifles replying." "I suppose so," was the reply, given thoughtfully. "But what a strange echo the hills give back here!" "Yes," I said. "That's why it's called Echo Nek." "I suppose so; but--but--Here, I say, those are not echoes we can hear now." "Nonsense! What can they be, then?" "Some one else firing. Can't you hear? It sounds from right in front." "Well, that's how echoes do sound. The reports come down the pass and strike against the face of the rocks, and are reflected off." "That's all very nicely put, comrade," said the young man, "and I dare say it's scientific and `all according to Cocker,' as my father used to say; but you're not going to make me believe those are echoes we can hear right in front. Now, you listen." I did as he suggested, and the rattling of the Boers' rifles came plainly enough, their many reverberations, as the reports seemed to strike from side to side, almost drowning the feeble replies of our own men. Then, after a perceptible pause, fresh reports were heard, and certainly these seemed to come from some distance away in front.