Ted nodded to Boldre's companion, a young man, slight and short of stature, with a frank, open countenance that told of an active, intelligent brain, and a brave, true heart. He was attired in the handsome uniform of the dashing Artillery Corps, and Ted liked his new acquaintance at once. "I've only just arrived," said the gunner, "and I want to see everything. Tell me all about Hindu Rao's house." Glad of the opportunity, the ensign told the story of the Ridge, and for a few moments forgot the V.C. "You seem to have enjoyed yourself," Boldre commented. Ted blushed. "Well, it has been rather exciting, and you see I've not suffered. It's different for those fellows who have." The artillery lieutenant smiled as he looked at the boy's cheek. "You seem to have had one cut at least," he observed. "Oh, that was nothing!" Ted replied. They had approached the Valley of the Shadow of Death, as a hollow on the Ridge was called on account of its exposure to the rebel fire, when a shell burst not forty yards away. Ted noticed with admiration that though Boldre and he both started as if hit, the gunner officer never turned a hair, but calmly completed the remark he was making. The boy felt that he was in the presence of no ordinary man. Before taking his visitors into the house Ted pointed out the different gates and bastions of the city. As they were surveying these, Alec and Charlie came up. Lieutenant Roberts looked steadfastly at the latter and exclaimed: "Hullo, ain't you Lieutenant Dorricot?" Charlie looked keenly at his questioner. "That's my name, but I don't know you from the Grand Mogul." "That's not strange; I was only thirteen and in the fourth form at Eton when you left. I'm Fred Roberts, and we were both under the same tutor, the Rev. Eyre Young. You were some years older than I, and I chiefly remember you because I admired the way you once gave a jolly good thrashing to a bully--I forget his name, but he was ill-treating a youngster." Charlie laughed and shook hands, saying, "Turkey Bletcher, you mean! So you remember that? What are you doing here?" "I've just come. Been with the Movable Column, but applied to come here, and they gave me permission." "Are you on the staff?" "Yes; I've just applied for the post of deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general for artillery, and I've been lucky enough to get it." "So you're the D. A. Q. M. G., are you?" said Dorricot, with some respect that one so young should have obtained this important post. They little thought that this slight and young lieutenant was destined to become one of Britain's greatest and best-beloved soldiers, Field-marshal Earl Roberts of Kandahar and Pretoria, V.C. "So you've been with Nicholson?" said Paterson, who was a great admirer of that frontier hero and demi-god. "He's a wonderful leader, I suppose?" "The finest soldier in the world!" Lieutenant Roberts quietly asserted.