In fact, the men generally had been brought down to attenuation by the scarcity of their food; while their khaki uniforms were not uniform in the least, the men for the most part looking, as Bob Dickenson put it, "like scarecrows in their Sunday clothes." "The lads are getting terribly thin, sergeant," said Lennox one day, after the men had been dismissed from parade. "Oh, I don't know, sir," said the sergeant; "a bit fine, sir, but in magnificent condition. Look at the colour of them--regular good warm tan." "But the Boers haven't tanned them, all the same, sergeant," put in Dickenson, who was listening. "No, sir, and never will," said the sergeant proudly. "As to their being thin, that's nothing; they're as healthy as can be. A soldier don't want to be carrying a lot of unnecessary meat about with him; and as to fat, it only makes 'em short-winded. See how they can go at the double now, and come up smiling. They're all right, sir, and we can feed 'em up again fast enough when the work's done. Beg pardon, sir: any likelihood of a reinforcement soon?" "You know just as much as I do, sergeant," said Lennox. "Our orders are to hold this place, and we've got to hold it. Some day I suppose the general will send and fetch us out; till then we shall have to do our best." "Yes, sir, that's right; but I do wish the enemy would give us a real good chance of showing them what our lads are made of." But the Boers had had too many of what Dickenson called "smacks in the face" during their open attacks, and seemed disposed now to give starvation a chance of doing the work for them. At least, that was the young officer's openly expressed opinion. "But they're making a great mistake, Drew, my lad," he said one evening as he and his friend sat chatting together. "An Englishman takes a great deal of starving before he'll give in. They're only making the boys savage, and they'll reap the consequences one day. My word, though, what a blessing a good spring of water is!" As he spoke he picked up the tin can standing upon the end of a flour-barrel that formed their table, had a good hearty drink, set it down again, and replaced his pipe between his lips. "I used to think that bitter beer was the only thing a man could drink with his pipe; but _tlat_! how good and fresh and cool this water is, and how the Boers must wish they had the run of it!" "It helps us to set them at defiance," said Lennox. "They might well call the place `Green Fountain.' It might be made a lovely spot if it wasn't for the Boer." "Yes, I suppose anything would grow here in the heat and moisture. I suppose the spring comes gurgling up somewhere in the middle of the kopje." "It must," said Lennox, "and then makes its way amongst the stones to spread out below there and flow on to the river."