"Oh yes, sir. It was that big stone nipping you after the blow-up." "I expect so," said Dickenson, struggling into his jacket. "Ha! It's getting better already. Where are the ponies?" "Round by the tethering-line, sir; but you've got to have a bit of supper first." "Oh, I want no supper. I've no appetite now." "Armoured train won't work, sir, without filling up the furnace," said the sergeant sternly; "and the ponies are not quite ready." "You promised to have them ready, sergeant." "So I did, sir; but we want all we can out of them to-night. We may have to ride for our lives; so I managed to beg a feed of mealies apiece for them. There's a snack of hot meat ready in the mess hut, sir, and the colonel would like to see you before you start." "Yes," said Dickenson, finishing buckling on his sword, and slipping the lanyard cord of his revolver about his neck. He hurried then to the mess-room, where a piece of well-broiled steak, freshly cut from one of the oxen, was brought by the cook, emitting an aroma agreeable enough; but it did not tempt the young officer, whose one idea was to mount and ride away for the kopje. Certainly it was not only like fresh meat--very tough--but it possessed the toughness of years piled-up by an ox whose life had been passed helping to drag a tow-rope on trek. So half of it was left, and the young man sought the colonel's quarters. "Ha!" he said. "Ready to start, then?" "Yes, sir." "Well, I must leave all to your discretion, Dickenson," he said. "Recollect you promised me that if there was any sign of the kopje being still occupied you would stop at once and return." "Yes; I have not forgotten, sir." "That's enough, then. Keep your eyes well open for danger. I'd give anything to recover Lennox, but I cannot afford to give the lives of more of my men." Dickenson frowned. "You mean, sir, that you do not believe he is still alive." "I don't know what to say, Dickenson," said the colonel, beginning to walk up and down the hut. "You have heard this ugly report?" "Yes, sir; and I don't believe it." "I cannot believe it," said the colonel; "but Captain Roby keeps on repeating it to the doctor and the major; while that man who was wounded, too, endorses all his captain says. It sounds monstrous." "Don't believe it, sir," cried Dickenson excitedly. "I have told you that I cannot believe it," said the colonel; "but Mr Lennox is missing, and it looks horribly corroborative of Roby's tale. There, go and find him--if you can. We can't add that to our other misfortunes; it would be a disgrace to us all." "You mean, sir," said Dickenson coldly, "if Drew Lennox had--has--well, I suppose I must say it--run away?" "Exactly." "Well, sir, I don't feel in the least afraid. He is either a prisoner, lying badly wounded somewhere about the kopje, or--dead." He said the last word in a husky tone, and then started violently.