MONTIE DUNDAS'S LAST STORY. 35 



It was nisrlit. All was still in the zeriba, save for the 

 grunting of the camels, the groans of the wounded, the tread 

 of the sentries, and the surgeons, who o-ot little sleep that 

 night. Earlier in the night the camp had been harassed by a 

 dropping fire, and whenever a light showed itself it brought 

 half a score of bullets to the spot. Once even v/hen a 

 surgeon's attendant incautiously turned his lantern, it was 

 shattered in his hand. However, a few picked shots were 

 told off to fire at the flashes, and their good practice had the 

 effect of silencing the annoyance. And now all was com- 

 paratively still, and the wearied officers and men were 

 endeavouring to snatch a few hours' sleep before the bugles 

 called them to another day's hardships. Wrapped in a cloak. 

 Captain CoUyer, who was worn out by the fatigues of the day, 

 was sleeping soundly, when a figure crept to his side and 

 touched him on the shoulder. 



" Are ye awake. Captain Collyer ? " whispered a voice in 

 his ear. "He's asking for ye, sorr."" 



"What? Is that you, Dennis?" said the young man, 

 starting up. "Has he regained consciousness?" 



"Yess, sorr, and he wants to speak to ye." 



CoUyer hastened to the spot where his friend lay, and fell 

 on his knees beside him. 



"My poor old pal," he said, as he took his hand, '*I'm 

 heartbroken to see you like this. You saved my life, Montie, 

 and God bless you for it." 



A smile flickered over the wounded man's features, and 

 he pressed his friend's hand gently. 



" I'm nearly done for, Charlie, and I want to have a talk 

 with you. To-morrow will be too late. Ah, but I know it, 

 old man," as Collyer made a gesture of dissent. " I shall not 

 see another sunrise. Just give me a drink of water, will you ? 

 Thanks. Now listen to what I've got to say, for my time is 

 short. What ! crying, old man. I thought you said you 



