"He is an unlucky beggar. Eight, nine, how many times is it that he
has been hit? He ought to engage a private nurse."
"He has." And Weldon explained the little scene at the door of the
hospital tent.
"Happy fellow! He deserves her, though. But it is an ideal
combination, that of nurse and soldier," the Captain answered
lightly. Then he asked, "What sort of a day have you had?"
"Rousing. Now the question is: what sort of a night are we going to
have?"
"The night of our lives, I suspect," the Captain replied, still in
the low tone in which all their talk had been made. "The orders are
to close in at daylight, and work the game up towards Wolvehoek;
but, if I know anything at all of De Wet, he won't wait till
daylight."
"You think he will fight?"
"If he does, it will be a fight to the finish," the Captain said
gravely.
Weldon's grip tightened on his rifle.
"When will it come?"
"Heaven only knows. Probably just before light. He will take this
end of things, on account of avoiding the railroads and--"
Weldon's hand shut on his arm.
"Hush! What's that?"
Swiftly the Captain's gravity vanished, and he laughed.
"By George, here they are!" he exclaimed.
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