He set the example as he spoke, firing, after taking a long and careful aim, at a big-bearded fellow who had crawled some distance to his right so as to try and take the pair in the flank. The Boer had reached his fresh position by making a rush, and his first shot struck the stones close to Drew's face, sending one up to inflict a stinging blow on the cheek, while in the ricochet it went whizzing by Dickenson's shoulder, making him start and utter an angry ejaculation, for he had again exposed himself. "Wish I could break myself off bad habits," he muttered, as a little shower of bullets came whizzing about them, but too late to harm. There was a certain amount of annoyance in his tones, for he noted that, while he had started up a little, his companion, in spite of the stinging blow he had received on the cheek, lay perfectly motionless upon his chest, waiting his time, finger on trigger, and ready to give it a gentle pressure when he had ceased to aim at one particular spot where he had seen the Boer's head for a moment. He did not have long to wait; for the moment the Boer had fired he slightly raised his head to try and mark the effect of his shot. That was sufficient. Lennox squeezed rather than pulled the trigger, and as the smoke rose the bush which had sheltered the Boer moved violently for a few moments, and all was still there; while the young officer quickly reloaded and waited to see if another man took his enemy's place. CHAPTER TWO. WHAT THEY CAUGHT. "Serve him right!" Dickenson growled more than spoke. "There's another chap creeping away yonder so as to enfilade us from the left." "Well, you know what to do," said Lennox grimly. Dickenson uttered a grunt, and, paying no further heed to the bullets that kept on spattering about the rocks, every now and then striking up a shower of loose stones, waited, patiently watching a spot that he had marked down a couple of hundred yards away up the river to his left. For he had seen one of the most pertinacious of their aggressors draw back, apparently without reason. "He couldn't have known that I meant to pick him out for my next shot," the young officer said to himself, "and he couldn't have been hurt, so he's up to the same sort of game as that fellow old Lennox brought down." He turned his head sharply, not on account of a bullet coming too close, but to learn the effect of another shot from his companion. "Hit or miss?" he said gruffly. "Hit," was the laconic reply. Dickenson had only glanced round, and then fixed his eyes once more upon the little clump of bushes he had before noted. "That's the place he'll show at for certain," he muttered, and getting the sight of his rifle well upon one particular spot where a big grey stone reared itself up level with the tops of the bushes, he waited for quite five minutes, which were well dotted with leaden points.