For a few moments there was no result, the wind nearly blowing out the blazing splints; but just as the young man was hesitating about getting out more matches--_phitt_! There was a flash as the powder caught and the flame began to run in its zigzag course right along the ground towards the nearest ammunition-wagon. Turning sharply, Dickenson laid his hands upon a block of loose stone, vaulted over it, and dropped flat upon his face, conscious the while of the piteous cries of the wounded men. The next instant there was a tremendous concussion, the stone giving him a violent blow, and as the sky above seemed to blaze there was a roar like thunder, then a perceptible pause, another roar, again a pause, and another roar. Then for a few moments the young officer lay deafened and feeling stunned, till beneath the pall of smoke which hung over him he opened his eyes and saw the sergeant kneeling by his side with his lips moving. Dickenson stared at him wonderingly, while he saw the horrified look in the man's face and its workings as he kept on moving his lips, and finally half-raised his young officer and laid him down again. "What's the matter?" said Dickenson--at least he thought he did--he felt as if he had said so; but somehow he could not hear himself speak for the crashing sound of many bells ringing all together. He did not for the moment realise what had happened, but like a flash the power of thinking came back, and drawing a deep breath, he tried to get up, but could hardly stir. Something seemed to hold him down. "Give me your hand, sergeant," he said, but still no words seemed to come, and he repeated what he wished to speak; but before he had completed his sentence, he grasped the fact that the sergeant's manner had changed, for he rose up, felt behind him, looked at him again, and seemed to speak, for his lips moved. "Are you hurt?" Dickenson said, in the same way. The sergeant's lips moved and he shook his head, looking the while as if he were not hurt in the least. "Then why don't you speak?" said Dickenson. The man smiled and pointed to his ears. "The explosion has deafened you?" said Dickenson dumbly, for still he could not hear a word. "What do you mean? Oh, I see." For the sergeant clapped him on the chest, and then placing his shoulder against the stone, he seemed to be exerting all his strength to force it uphill a little, succeeding so well that the next moment Dickenson felt himself slip, glided clear of the sergeant's legs, and rose to his own, while the man leaped aside and the great block slipped two or three yards before it stopped. "Then I was caught by the stone?" said Dickenson wonderingly. "I felt it move."