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"On the Firing Line"

I
have simply said 'yes' to an irresistible force."
"Perhaps," she assented slowly. "I am not so sure." Then she turned
to the tangible fact. "But when do you go?"
"To-morrow morning."
"I am sorry it must be so soon," she said quietly. "Still, I am glad
you are going. You never would have been satisfied to sail for home
now."
"No," he answered. "I should not."
Then the talk halted again.
"Where is Mr. Carew?" she asked abruptly at length, less from
interest in Carew than from a desire to escape so insistent a pause.
"At the Mount Nelson." "Here in Cape Town?"
"Yes. He came down with me. We volunteered together, you know, and
his time was ended, too."
"Does he go home?"
"No; not Harry Carew. We had decided to keep together in our plans;
in fact, it was one of the conditions of our coming out. But, from
the start, he has hated the idea of going back home as long as there
was an armed Boer left in the field."
"And he goes with you?"
"Yes, to Springfontein. We have our headquarters there for the
present. For Carew's sake, I hope it will be more riding and
scouting than actual fighting. The man is made of some material that
draws all the bullets in sight.


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