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most saddles.

"Any Boers over there?" asked one, pointing in the direction in which
we were still heading.

"Shut up!" interjected Raffles in crisp rebuke.

The Boer looked stolid but sinister.

"Any of our chaps?" added another.

The Boer rode on with an open grin.

And the incredible conclusion of the matter was that we were actually
within their lines in another hour; saw them as large as life within a
mile and a half on either side of us; and must every man of us have
been taken prisoner had not every man but Connal refused to go one inch
further, and had not the Boers themselves obviously suspected some
subtle ruse as the only conceivable explanation of so madcap a
manoeuvre. They allowed us to retire without firing a shot; and
retire you may be sure we did, the Kaffirs flogging their teams in a
fury of fear, and our precious corporal sullen but defiant.

I have said this was the conclusion of the matter, and I blush to
repeat that it practically was. Connal was indeed wheeled up before
the colonel, but his instructions were not written instructions, and he
lied his way out with equal hardihood and tact.

"You said 'over there,' sir," he stoutly reiterated; and the vagueness
with which such orders were undoubtedly given was the saving of him for
the time being.

I need not tell you how indignant I felt, for one.

"The fellow is a spy!" I said to Raffles, with no nursery oath, as we
strolled within the lines that night.

He merely smiled in my face.

"And have you only just found it out, Bunny? I have known it almost
ever since we joined; but this morning I did think we had him on toast."

"It's disgraceful that we had not," cried I. "He ought to have been
shot like a dog."

"Not so loud, Bunny, though I quite agree; but I don't regret what has
happened as much as you do. Not that I am less bloodthirsty than you
are in this case, but a good deal more so! Bunny, I'm mad-keen on
bowling him out with my own unaided hand - though I may ask you to take
the wicket. Meanwhile, don't wear all your animosity upon your sleeve;
the fellow has friends who still believe in him; and there is no need
for you to be more openly his enemy than you were before."

Well, I can only vow that I did my best to follow this sound advice;
but who but a Raffles can control his every look? It was never my
forte, as you know, yet to this day I cannot conceive what I did to
excite the treacherous corporal's suspicions. He was clever enough,
however, not to betray them, and lucky enough to turn the tables on us,
as you shall hear.


III

Bloemfontein had fallen since our arrival, but there was plenty of
fight in the Free Staters still, and I will not deny that it was these
gentry who were showing us the sport for which our corps came in.
Constant skirmishing was our portion, with now and then an action that
you would know at least by name, did I feel free to mention them. But
I do not, and indeed it is better so. I have not to describe the war
even as I saw it, I am thankful to say, but only the martial story of
us two and those others of whom you wot. Corporal Connal was the
dangerous blackguard you have seen. Captain Bellingham is best known
for his position in the batting averages a year or two ago, and for his
subsequent failure to obtain a place in any of the five Test Matches.
But I only think of him as the officer who recognized Raffles.

We had taken a village, making quite a little name for it and for
ourselves, and in the village our division was reinforced by a fresh
brigade of the Imperial troops. It was a day of rest, our first for
weeks, but Raffles and I spent no small part of it in seeking high and
low for a worthy means of quenching the kind of thirst which used to
beset Yeomen and others who had left good cellars for the veldt. The
old knack came back to us both, though I believe that I alone was
conscious of it at the time; and we were leaving the house, splendidly
supplied, when we almost ran into the arms of an infantry officer, with
a scowl upon his red-hot face, and an eye-glass flaming at us in the
sun.

"Peter Bellingham!" gasped Raffles under his breath, and then we
saluted and tried to pass on, with the bottles ringing like
church-bells under our khaki. But Captain Bellingham was a hard man.

"What have you men been doin'?" drawled he.

"Nothing, sir," we protested, like innocence with an injury.

"Lootin' 's forbidden," said he. "You had better let me see those
bottles."

"We are done," whispered Raffles, and straightway we made a sideboard
of the stoop across which he had crept at so inopportune a moment. I
had not the heart to raise my eyes again, yet it was many moments
before the officer broke silence.

"Uam Var!" he murmured reverentially at last. "And Long John of Ben
Nevis! The first drop that's been discovered in the whole
psalm-singing show! What lot do you two belong to?"

I answered.

"I must have your names."

In my agitation I gave my real one. Raffles had turned away, as though
in heart-broken contemplation of our lost loot. I saw the officer
studying his half-profile with an alarming face.

"What's YOUR name?" he rapped out at last.

But his strange, low voice said plainly that he knew, and Raffles faced
him with the monosyllable of confession and assent. I did not count
the seconds until the next word, but it was Captain Bellingham who
uttered it at last.

"I thought you were dead."

"Now you see I am not."

"But you are at your old games!"

"I am not," cried Raffles, and his tone was new to me. I have seldom
heard one more indignant. "Yes," he continued, "this is loot, and the
wrong 'un will out. That's what you're thinking, Peter - I beg your
pardon - sir. But he isn't let out in the field! We're playing the
game as much as you are, old - sir."

The plural number caused the captain to toss me a contemptuous look.
"Is this the fellah who was taken when you swam for it?" he inquired,
relapsing into his drawl. Raffles said I was, and with that took a
passionate oath upon our absolute rectitude as volunteers. There could
be no doubting him; but the officer's eyes went back at the bottles on
the stoop.

"But look at those," said he; and as he looked himself the light eye
melted in his fiery face. "And I've got Sparklets in my tent," he
sighed. "You make it in a minute!"

Not a word from Raffles, and none, you may be sure, from me. Then
suddenly Bellingham told me where his tent was, and, adding that our
case was one for serious consideration, strode in its direction
without another word until some sunlit paces separated us.

"You can bring that stuff with you," he then flung over a
shoulder-strap, "and I advise you to put it where you had it before."

A trooper saluted him some yards further on, and looked evilly at us as
we followed with our loot. It was Corporal Connal of ours, and the
thought of him takes my mind off the certainly gallant captain who only
that day had joined our division with the reinforcements. I could not
stand the man myself. He added soda-water to our whiskey in his tent,
and would only keep a couple of bottles when we came away. Softened by
the spirit, to which disuse made us all a little sensitive, our officer
was soon convinced of the honest part that we were playing for once,
and for fifty minutes of the hour we spent with him he and Raffles
talked cricket without a break. On parting they even shook hands; that
was Long John in the captain's head; but the snob never addressed a
syllable to me.

And now to the gallows-bird who was still corporal of our troop: it was
not long before Raffles was to have his wish and the traitor's wicket.
We had resumed our advance, or rather our humble part in the great
surrounding movement then taking place, and were under pretty heavy
fire once more, when Connal was shot in the hand. It was a curious
casualty in more than one respect, and nobody seems to have seen it
happen. Though a flesh wound, it was a bloody one, and that may be why
the surgeon did not at once detect those features which afterwards
convinced him that the injury had been self-inflicted. It was the
right hand, and until it healed the man could be of no further use in
the firing line; nor was the case serious enough for admission to a
crowded field-hospital; and Connal himself offered his services as
custodian of a number of our horses which we were keeping out of harm's
way in a donga. They had come there in the following manner: That
morning we had been heliographed to reinforce the C.M.R., only to find
that the enemy had the range to a nicety when we reached the spot.
There were trenches for us men, but no place of safety for our horses
nearer than this long and narrow donga which ran from within our lines
towards those of the Boers. So some of us galloped them thither,
six-in-hand, amid the whine of shrapnel and the whistle of shot. I
remember the man next me being killed by a shell with all his team, and
the tangle of flying harness, torn horseflesh, and crimson khaki, that
we left behind us on the veldt; also that a small red flag,
ludicrously like those used to indicate a putting-green, marked the
single sloping entrance to the otherwise precipitous donga, which I for
one was duly thankful to reach alive.

The same evening Connal, with a few other light casualties to assist
him, took over the charge for which he had volunteered and for which he
was so admirably fitted by his knowledge of horses and his general
experience of the country; nevertheless, he managed to lose three or
four fine chargers in the course of the first night; and, early in the
second, Raffles shook me out of a heavy slumber in the trenches where
we had been firing all day.

"I have found the spot, Bunny," he whispered; "we ought to out him
before the night is over."

"Connal?"

Raffles nodded.

"You know what happened to some of his horses last night? Well, he let
them go himself."

"Never!"

"I'm as certain of it," said Raffles, "as though I'd seen him do it;
and if he does it again I shall see him. I can even tell you how it
happened. Connal insisted on having one end of the donga to himself,
and of course his end is the one nearest the Boers. Well, then, he
tells the other fellows to go to sleep at their end - I have it direct
from one of them - and you bet they don't need a second invitation. The
rest I hope to see to-night."

"It seems almost incredible," said I.

"Not more so than the Light Horseman's dodge of poisoning the troughs;
that happened at Ladysmith before Christmas; and two kind friends did
for that blackguard what you and I are going to do for this one, and a
firing-party did the rest. Brutes! A mounted man's worth a file on
foot in this country, and well they know it. But this beauty goes
one better than the poison; that was wilful waste; but I'll eat my
wideawake if our loss last night wasn't the enemy's double gain! What
we've got to do, Bunny, is to catch him in the act. It may mean
watching him all night, but was ever game so well worth the candle?"

One may say in passing that, at this particular point of contact, the
enemy were in superior force, and for once in a mood as aggressive as
our own. They were led with a dash, and handled with a skill, which
did not always characterize their commanders at this stage of the war.
Their position was very similar to ours, and indeed we were to spend
the whole of next day in trying with an equal will to turn each other
out. The result will scarcely be forgotten by those who recognize the
occasion from these remarks. Meanwhile it was the eve of battle (most
evenings were), and there was that villain with the horses in the
donga, and here were we two upon his track.

Raffles's plan was to reconnoitre the place, and then take up a
position from which we could watch our man and pounce upon him if he
gave us cause. The spot that we eventually chose and stealthily
occupied was behind some bushes through which we could see down into
the donga; there were the precious horses; and there sure enough was
our wounded corporal, sitting smoking in his cloak, some glimmering
thing in his lap.

"That's his revolver, and it's a Mauser," whispered Raffles. "He
shan't have a chance of using it on us; either we must be on him before
he knows we are anywhere near, or simply report. It's easily proved
once we are sure; but I should like to have the taking of him too."

There was a setting moon. Shadows were sharp and black. The man
smoked steadily, and the hungry horses did what I never saw horses do
before; they stood and nibbled at each other's tails. I was used to
sleeping in the open, under the jewelled dome that seems so much
vaster and grander in these wide spaces of the earth. I lay listening
to the horses, and to the myriad small strange voices of the veldt, to
which I cannot even now put a name, while Raffles watched. "One head
is better than two," he said, "when you don't want it to be seen." We
were to take watch and watch about, however, and the other might sleep
if he could; it was not my fault that I did nothing else; it was
Raffles who could trust nobody but himself. Nor was there any time for
recriminations when he did rouse me in the end.

But a moment ago, as it seemed to me, I had been gazing upward at the
stars and listening to the dear, minute sounds of peace; and in another
the great gray slate was clean, and every bone of me set in plaster of
Paris, and sniping beginning between pickets with the day. It was an
occasional crack, not a constant crackle, but the whistle of a bullet
as it passed us by, or a tiny transitory flame for the one bit of
detail on a blue hill-side, was an unpleasant warning that we two on
ours were a target in ourselves. But Raffles paid no attention to
their fire; he was pointing downward through the bushes to where
Corporal Connal stood with his back to us, shooing a last charger out
of the mouth of the donga towards the Boer trenches.

"That's his third," whispered Raffles, "but it's the first I've seen
distinctly, for he waited for the blind spot before the dawn. It's
enough to land him, I fancy, but we mustn't lose time. Are you ready
for a creep?"

I stretched myself, and said I was; but I devoutly wished it was not
quite so early in the morning.

"Like cats, then, till he hears, and then into him for all we're worth.
He's stowed his iron safe away, but he mustn't have time even to feel
for it. You take his left arm, Bunny, and hang on to that like a
ferret, and I'll do the rest. Ready? Then now!"

And in less time than it would take to tell, we were over the lip of
the donga and had fallen upon the fellow before he could turn his head;
nevertheless, for a few instants he fought like a wild beast, striking,
kicking, and swinging me off my feet as I obeyed my instructions to the
letter, and stuck to his left like a leech. But he soon gave that up,
panting and blaspheming, demanded explanations in his hybrid tongue
that had half a brogue and half a burr. What were we doing? What had
he done? Raffles at his back, with his right wrist twisted round and
pinned into the small of it, soon told him that, and I think the words
must have been the first intimation that he had as to who his
assailants were.

"So it's you two!" he cried, and a light broke over him. He was no
longer trying to shake us off, and now he dropped his curses also, and
stood chuckling to himself instead. "Well," he went on, "you're bloody
liars both, but I know something else that you are, so you'd better let
go."

A coldness ran through me, and I never saw Raffles so taken aback.
His grip must have relaxed for a fraction of time, for our captive
broke out in a fresh and desperate struggle, but now we pinned him
tighter than ever, and soon I saw him turning green and yellow with the
pain.

"You're breaking my wrist!" he yelled at last.

"Then stand still and tell us who we are."

And he stood still and told us our real names. But Raffles insisted on
hearing how he had found us out, and smiled as though he had known what
was coming when it came. I was dumbfounded.

The accursed hound had followed us that evening to Captain Bellingham's
tent, and his undoubted cleverness in his own profession of spy had
done the rest.

"And now you'd better let me go," said the master of the situation, as
I for one could not help regarding him.

"I'll see you damned," said Raffles, savagely.

"Then you're damned and done for yourself, my cocky criminal. Raffles
the burglar! Raffles the society thief! Not dead after all, but
'live and 'listed. Send him home and give him fourteen years, and
won't he like 'em, that's all!"

"I shall have the pleasure of hearing you shot first," retorted
Raffles, through his teeth, "and that alone will make them bearable.
Come on, Bunny, let's drive the swine along and get it over."

And drive him we did, he cursing, cajoling, struggling, gloating, and
blubbering by turns. But Raffles never wavered for an instant, though
his face was tragic, and it went to my heart, where that look stays
still. I remember at the time, though I never let my hold relax, there
was a moment when I added my entreaties to those of our prisoner.
Raffles did not even reply to me. But I was thinking of him, I swear.
I was thinking of that gray set face that I never saw before or after.

"Your story will be tested," said the commanding officer, when Connal
had been marched to the guard-tent. "Is there any truth in his?"

"It is perfectly true, sir."

"And the notorious Raffles has been alive all these years, and you are
really he?"

"I am, sir."

"And what are you doing at the front?"

Somehow I thought that Raffles was going to smile, but the grim set of
his mouth never altered, neither was there any change in the ashy
pallor which had come over him in the donga when Connal mouthed his
name. It was only his eyes that lighted up at the last question.

"I am fighting, sir," said he, as simply as any subaltern in the army.

The commanding officer inclined a grizzled head perceptibly, and no
more. He was not one of any school, our General; he had his own ways,
and we loved both him and them; and I believe that he loved the rough
but gallant corps that bore his name. He once told us that he knew
something about most of us, and there were things that Raffles had done
of which he must have heard. But he only moved his grizzled head.

"Did you know he was going to give you away?" he asked at length, with
a jerk of it toward the guard-tent.

"Yes, sir."

"But you thought it worth while, did you?"

"I thought it necessary, sir."

The General paused, drumming on his table, making up his mind. Then his
chin came up with the decision that we loved in him.

"I shall sift all this," said he. "An officer's name was mentioned,
and I shall see him myself. Meanwhile you had better go on - fighting."


IV

Corporal Connal paid the penalty of his crime before the sun was far
above the hill held by the enemy. There was abundance of
circumstantial evidence against him, besides the direct testimony of
Raffles and myself, and the wretch was shot at last with little
ceremony and less shrift. And that was the one good thing that
happened on the day that broke upon us hiding behind the bushes
overlooking the donga; by noon it was my own turn.

I have avoided speaking of my wound before I need, and from the
preceding pages you would not gather that I am more or less lame for
life. You will soon see now why I was in no hurry to recall the
incident. I used to think of a wound received in one's country's
service as the proudest trophy a man could acquire. But the sight of
mine depresses me every morning of my life; it was due for one thing to
my own slow eye for cover, in taking which (to aggravate my case) our
hardy little corps happened to excel.

The bullet went clean through my thigh, drilling the bone, but happily
missing the sciatic nerve; thus the mere pain was less than it might
have been, but of course I went over in a light-brown heap. We were
advancing on our stomachs to take the hill, and thus extend our
position, and it was at this point that the fire became too heavy for
us, so that for hours (in the event) we moved neither forward nor
back. But it was not a minute before Raffles came to me through the
whistling scud, and in another I was on my back behind a shallow rock,
with him kneeling over me and unrolling my bandage in the teeth of
that murderous fire. It was on the knees of the gods, he said, when I
begged him to bend lower, but for the moment I thought his tone as
changed as his face had been earlier in the morning. To oblige me,
however, he took more care; and, when he had done all that one comrade
could for another, he did avail himself of the cover he had found for
me. So there we lay together on the veldt, under blinding sun and
withering fire, and I suppose it is the veldt that I should describe,
as it swims and flickers before wounded eyes. I shut mine to bring it
back, but all that comes is the keen brown face of Raffles, still a
shade paler than its wont; now bending to sight and fire; now peering
to see results, brows raised, eyes widened; anon turning to me with the
word to set my tight lips grinning. He was talking all the time, but
for my sake, and I knew it. Can you wonder that I could not see an
inch beyond him? He was the battle to me then; he is the whole war to
me as I look back now.

"Feel equal to a cigarette? It will buck you up, Bunny. No, that one
in the silver paper, I've hoarded it for this. Here's a light; and so
Bunny takes the Sullivan! All honor to the sporting rabbit!"

"At least I went over like one," said I, sending the only clouds into
the blue, and chiefly wishing for their longer endurance. I was as hot
as a cinder from my head to one foot; the other leg was ceasing to
belong to me.

"Wait a bit," says Raffles, puckering; "there's a gray felt hat at deep
long-on, and I want to add it to the bag for vengeance....
Wait - yes - no, no luck! I must pitch 'em up a bit more. Hallo!
Magazine empty. How goes the Sullivan, Bunny? Rum to be smoking one
on the veldt with a hole in your leg!"

"It's doing me good," I said, and I believe it was. But Raffles lay
looking at me as he lightened his bandolier.

"Do you remember," he said softly, "the day we first began to think
about the war? I can see the pink, misty river light, and feel the
first bite there was in the air when one stood about; don't you wish we
had either here! 'Orful slorter, orful slorter;' that fellow's face, I
see it too; and here we have the thing he cried. Can you believe it's
only six months ago?"

"Yes," I sighed, enjoying the thought of that afternoon less than he
did; "yes, we were slow to catch fire at first."

"Too slow," he said quickly.

"But when we did catch," I went on, wishing we never had, "we soon
burnt up."

"And then went out," laughed Raffles gayly. He was loaded up again.
"Another over at the gray felt hat," said he; "by Jove, though, I
believe he's having an over at me!"

"I wish you'd be careful," I urged. "I heard it too."

"My dear Bunny, it's on the knees you wot of. If anything's down in
the specifications surely that is. Besides - that was nearer!"

"To you?"

"No, to him. Poor devil, he has his specifications too; it's
comforting to think that.... I can't see where that one pitched; it
may have been a wide; and it's very nearly the end of the over again.
Feeling worse, Bunny?"

"No, I've only closed my eyes. Go on talking."

"It was I who let you in for this," he said, at his bandolier again.

"No, I'm glad I came out."

And I believe I still was, in a way; for it WAS rather fine to be
wounded, just then, with the pain growing less; but the sensation was
not to last me many minutes, and I can truthfully say that I have
never felt it since.

"Ah, but you haven't had such a good time as I have!"

"Perhaps not."

Had his voice vibrated, or had I imagined it? Pain-waves and loss of
blood were playing tricks with my senses; now they were quite dull, and
my leg alive and throbbing; now I had no leg at all, but more than all
my ordinary senses in every other part of me. And the devil's
orchestra was playing all the time, and all around me, on every class
of fiendish instrument, which you have been made to hear for yourselves
in every newspaper. Yet all that I heard was Raffles talking.

"I have had a good time, Bunny."


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