The entrance at last, with the glorious light of the sun shining in, man after man drawing a heavy sighing breath of relief; and as they gathered outside on the shelf where the sentries were awaiting their coming, it seemed to every one there that for a few moments the world had never looked so bright and beautiful. Then down came the mental cloud of thought upon all, and they formed up solemnly, ready to march down. "Well, Corporal May," said the captain, "do you think you can walk?" "Yes, sir," replied the man. "My head's thick and confused-like, but every mouthful of this air I swallow seems to be pulling me round. I can walk, sir, but I may have to fall out and come slowly." "Yes, yes, of course," said the captain, with whom the corporal had always been a petted favourite. "Don't hurry, my lad.--Sergeant, you and another man fall out too, if it is more than he can manage." Then turning to the rest of the party, the captain glanced along the rank at the saddened faces which showed how great a favourite the young lieutenant had been, and something like a feeling of jealousy flashed through him as he began to think how it would have been if he had been the missing man. But the ungenerous thought died out as quickly as it had arisen, and he marched on with the men slowly, so as to make it easier for the corporal, till half the slope of the kopje had been zigzagged down, when he called a halt. "Sit or lie about in the sunshine for ten minutes, my lads," he said, and the men gladly obeyed, dropping on the hot stones and tufts of brush, to begin talking together in a low voice, as they let their eyes wander over the prospect around, now looking, by contrast with the black horror through which they had passed, as if no more beautiful scene had ever met their eyes. "How are you, Dickenson?" said the captain after they had sat together for a few minutes, drinking in the sunlight and air. The young lieutenant started and looked at him strangely for a few moments before he spoke with a curious catch in his voice. "Is it all true?" he said. The captain's lips parted, but no words came; he only bowed his head slowly, and once more there was silence, till it was broken by Dickenson. "Poor old Drew!" he said softly. "Well, I hope when my time comes I shall die in the same way." "What!" cried the captain, with a look of horror which brought a grim smile to the subaltern's quivering lip. "I did not mean that," he said sadly; "by a bullet, I hope, but doing what poor old Drew was doing--saving another man's life." He turned his head on one side, reached out his hand, and picked from the sun-dried growth close at hand a little dull-red, star-like flower whose petals were hard and horny, one of the so-called everlasting tribe, and taking off his helmet, carefully tucked it in the lining.