As they struggled on through the steamy bush the rear-guard was changed again and again, a fresh party of defenders taking up the task of keeping the pursuers at bay, and to each man in turn was the warning given that no shot must be fired unless it could be made to tell; consequently the fire was less fierce, but, as the Malays found to their cost, more fatal. The end of the third day was approaching, and the progress of the party had grown slower and slower, for their guide's strength had failed. The poor fellow had fought on bravely in spite of his wounds, insisting that he was well enough to walk, when all the time he was suffering intense agony; and this was not to be without its result. During the day the Malays had attacked far more fiercely than usual, and though always repulsed, it had not been without loss. Several men had fallen, while others were wounded, increasing terribly the difficulties of the case, for the injured men had to be carried by those who found that their task of fighting their way through the jungle in the midst of the dense heat was already as much as they could bear. Still no one murmured. The pleasure-trip had turned out to be one of terrible misery, but each man, soldier or sailor, had a cheery word for his neighbour; and whenever an unfortunate received a spear or bullet wound, the doctor was on the spot directly, tending him; while a couple of his comrades deftly cut a few canes and bound them together, making a light litter, upon which the wounded man was placed, and carried on the shoulders of four men. The wounded made a terrible demand upon the sound; and now, to add to their trouble, men began to fall out of the ranks stricken down by disease. It was no more than the doctor anticipated; but it was terrible work. Captain Horton was one of the first--after fighting bravely in the rear--to go to the doctor and complain of his head. "I can't get on, doctor," he said. "The giddiness is dreadful, and the pain worse. Give me something to ease it all." The doctor said he would, and prescribed what he could from the little case he had with him, but he knew what was coming. Captain Horton had taken the jungle fever, and in an hour he was strapped down upon a litter, raving with delirium. Then another, and another, went down, the officers falling one after another, till Major Sandars was left alone with the doctor, who had to divide his time between attending to his many patients and handling a rifle to help in their defence. The consequence was that on the third night, instead of being near the river, they were halted in the dense jungle, with their outposts on the alert, and the rest throwing themselves beside the sick and wounded, too much exhausted even to care for food.