"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Dickenson, who stared almost in wonder at the terrific rate at which the fire was roaring up and sweeping along, threatening, as wagon after wagon caught, to cover the kopje with flame. "Perhaps, sir," said the sergeant, with a grim smile, "it would be a comfort to the poor fellows' nerves if we sent up the ammunition-wagons now." "Whether it would or not, sergeant, we must be sharp and do it, or with these flakes of fire floating about we shall not dare to go near our fuse." "That's what I'm thinking, sir," said the sergeant. "Forward, then;" and the pair went on at the double to the spot where the train was laid, the fuses being some distance from the ammunition-wagons, and on lower ground sheltered by great stones. The next minute the pair were down on one knee sheltering their match-boxes from the wind behind a big rock, with the train well in view, for those who laid it had not scrupled to use an abundance of powder. "I did not reckon about this wind," said Dickenson. "As fast as one of us strikes a light it will be blown out." "That's right, sir." "And we shall never get the fuse started." "We must try, sir." "Yes," said Dickenson. "Here, it must be one man's job to fire the train; the explosion will send off the next wagon." "And no mistake, sir. We ought to have had a lantern to light the fuse at. But you get lower down, sir, and I'll set off the whole box of matches I've got here, chuck it into the train, and drop behind this big stone." "That seems to be the only way to get it done," replied Dickenson. "Yes, I'm sure of it, sir," said the sergeant. "All right, then; run down and get behind that piece of rock. I'll do it directly." "No, no, sir; let me do it," pleaded the sergeant. "'Tention!" roared Dickenson. "Quick! No time to lose. Off at once." The sergeant's lips parted as if he were about to say something, but Dickenson gave him a stern look and pointed downward towards the stone, when discipline ruled, and the man doubled away to it, grumbling and growling till he was lying down panting as if he were out of breath. "I could have done it better myself," he said hoarsely; and then, "Oh, poor lad, poor lad! If--if--" There was a sharp crack, followed by a pause filled up by the shrieking and yelling of the wounded Boers. Then the sergeant felt that he must raise his head and see how matters were going on; but he refrained, for there was a peculiar hissing noise. Dickenson had taken about twenty matches out of the box he carried, held them ready, and ignoring the fuse, he struck the bundle vigorously, stretched out his hand, which was almost licked by the flash of flame, and applied it to the thickly-laid train.