"But why do you say that?" said Dickenson. "I understand the sentry was found dead, but--" "There was the blanket and the iron bar, sir--the one over him and the other at his side. I don't call that fair fighting, sir; do you?" The answer consisted of a sharp drawing in of the breath; and the officers turned away to examine the mischief done by the explosion, the backs of two houses having been blown right in. "Well," said Dickenson dryly, "it's awkward, because they've got to be made up again; but one can't say they're spoiled." "Not spoiled?" said Lennox, looking wonderingly at the speaker. "No; they were so horribly straight and blank and square before. They do look a little more picturesque now. Oh, he was a wicked wretch who invented corrugated iron!" "Nonsense!" said Lennox. "But it does keep the wet out well, sir," put in the sergeant. "I don't know what we should have done sometimes without it." Further conversation was stopped by the coming towards camp of a couple of Boers bearing a white flag; but they were only allowed to approach within the first line of defence. "Want to have a look at the mischief they have done," said Dickenson bitterly, "and they will not have a chance. My word, what they don't deserve!" The permission they had come to ask was given, and they were turned back at once, to signal for their ambulance-wagons to approach, these being busy for quite an hour picking up the dead and wounded; while the murdered sentry was the only loss suffered by the defenders of Groenfontein and the kopje. As soon as suspicion was firmly fixed upon the party of non-combatant Boers who had departed upon their mission to obtain fresh supplies, one of the first orders issued by the colonel was for a patrol of mounted men to go in pursuit and, if possible, bring them back. "There is not much chance of overtaking them," he said to the officers present; "but with a couple of teams of slow-going oxen they cannot make their own pace. Then this is the last time I'll trust a Boer." "The worst of it is," said the major, "that we have let them carry off those two spans of bullocks. Tut, tut, tut! Forty of them; tough as leather, of course, but toothsome when you have nothing else." "Toothsome!" said Captain Roby, laughing. "A capital term, for the poor teeth of those who tried to eat them would have to work pretty hard-- eh,--Dickenson?" "Better than nothing," said the young lieutenant--a decision with which all agreed.