CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
WE MAKE A DISCOVERY.
"Oh, I don't like it; I don't like it," cried Denham to me, as he rode up to my side while we were cantering over the veldt one day.

"We always seem to be running away." "Manoeuvring," I said, with a laugh.
"Oh, hang so much manoeuvring!" he muttered.

"The Boers set it all down to cowardice, and hold us in contempt." "It doesn't matter what they think," I said, as we rode on over the splendid open highland, with the brisk bracing air whistling past our ears, and our horses seeming thoroughly to enjoy the run; "we've shown the enemy time after time that we are not cowards." "But we're running away again; we're running away again." "Nonsense," I said; "we're altering our position.

I declare I'm getting to be a better soldier than you are.

Would it be right to stand fast here and let the Boers surround us and lie snugly behind the rocks to take careful aim and shoot us all down, horse and man ?" "Oh, I suppose not," groaned my companion; "but I hate--I loathe-- running away from these bullet-headed double-Dutchmen.