One often hears it said that Mounted Infantry do not need to be much of riders so long as they can shoot straight. All I can say is, let a bad rider try to mount a fresh horse, with a large kit on the saddle and a heavy rifle in his left hand, and bullets and pom-pom shells whistling and cracking around, and he will agree with me in saying that every Mounted Infantryman ought to be a very fair rider before he can be of much use in a fight. Gathering up my reins, I kept up a good gallop towards our next kopje, and was just congratulating myself that I was too skinny a target for any Boer bullets when poor old Demon came down with a fearful crash, shot by a Mauser bullet. I suppose I must have been stunned by the fall, as I have no recollection of seeing him again. When I came to, I found that my neck was fearfully stiff and sore, likewise all the left side of my head. And pain—by Jove! pain was no word for it. I lay there cursing and crawling about for some time, and was momentarily expecting to have a ‘sighting shot’ into me, when, bang! and I remembered no more. I have since heard that after this two of our chaps came along and, dismounting, turned me over and left me as a ‘green ’un.’ I remember dimly wondering what time of day it was, as all things seemingly were so dim and dark that I could not see. I then thought of tying up my head with my field dressing; but whether I did so or not I could not swear, as I was more or less ‘silly.’ It must have been a pom-pom or some other kind of shell bursting near me that did the damage. Recovering a certain amount of sensibility, I was endeavouring to get under some cover when Captain Chamney rode up. He shouted out to me apparently from a long distance off, as I could just hear him, ‘Hello, Mud’ook, what the tivil are you doing here? Badly hurt are ye? Come on, then, get a hold of my stirrup an’ I’ll take ye along wi’ me; ye’r far and away too good a man to leave behind.’ I told him, of course, to go on, as I was all right and would get behind a rock and have a rest; but the good old ‘Oirishman’ told me to get up at once as he ordered. And a good job it was, too, he did _order_ me to do so, or I’d have been resting there now. Just then Trooper Ducat came galloping up, and the two of them got me between them and trotted me along some hundreds of yards—it seemed miles to me. At last I got nearly unconscious, merely rolling along in a sort of mechanical style. But, try as much as I could, what with loss of blood and giddiness I could go no further, and as I was a mere dead weight on my two companions they halted, and I next remember myself sitting behind Captain Chamney with my blood sopping down his neck and khaki tunic, my head resting on his shoulder, and my hands locked round his body. How I got there I don’t know. I suppose they lifted me up somehow.