Menzies gave him a firm grip of the hand, and then each took his place in the ranks. There was desperate fighting that day with the Kaffirs. The Cape Mounted Rifles, while scouting ahead of the infantry in the bush, were suddenly attacked by an immense body of Kaffirs. Muskets cracked, and assegais flew in showers. Several of the men dropped, and discharging their rifles, the troopers fell back towards the infantry. As they retreated, Ronald looked back. One of the men of his troop, whose horse had been shot under him, had been overtaken by the enemy, and was surrounded by a score of Kaffirs. His cap was off, and Ronald caught sight of his face. He gave a shout, and in an instant had turned his horse and dashed towards the group. "Come back, man, come back!" Captain Twentyman shouted. "It's madness!" But Ronald did not hear him. The man whose confession could alone absolutely clear him was in the hands of the Kaffirs, and must be saved at any cost. A moment later he was in the midst of the natives, emptying his revolvers among them. Forester had sunk on one knee as Ronald, having emptied one of his revolvers, hurled it in the face of a Kaffir; leaning over, he caught Forester by the collar, and, with a mighty effort, lifted and threw him across the saddle in front of him, then bending over him, he spurred his horse through the natives. Just at this moment Captain Twentyman and a score of the men rode up at full speed, drove the Kaffirs back for an instant, and enabled Ronald to rejoin his lines. Three assegais had struck him, and he reeled in the saddle as, amidst the cheers of his companions, he rode up. "One of you take the wounded man in front of you," Lieutenant Daniels said, "and carry him to the rear. Thompson, do you jump up behind Sergeant Blunt, and support him. There is no time to be lost. Quick, man, these fellows are coming on like furies." The exchange was made in half a minute; one of the men took George Forester before him, another sprang up behind Ronald and held him in his saddle with one hand, while he took the reins in the other. Then they rode fast to the rear, just as the leading battalion of infantry came up at a run and opened fire on the Kaffirs, who, with wild yells, were pressing on the rear of the cavalry. When Ronald recovered his senses he was lying in the ambulance waggon, and the surgeon was dressing his wounds. "That's right, sergeant," he said, cheeringly, "I think you will do. You have three nasty wounds, but by good luck I don't think any of them are vital." "How is Forester?" Ronald asked. "Forester?" the surgeon repeated in surprise, "Whom do you mean, Blunt?" "I mean Jim Smith, sir; his real name was Forester." "There is nothing to be done for him," the surgeon said. "Nothing can save him; he is riddled with spears." "Is he conscious?" Ronald asked. "No, not at present." "Will he become conscious before he dies, sir?"