Shepherd 'em! Good-by, old friend!" "Good-by, Colonel sahib," said Ranjoor Singh, and Kirby sahib died in that moment, having shed the half of his blood over me.

Ranjoor Singh and I laid him along a ledge above the water and it was not very long before a chance shell dropped near and buried him under a ton of earth.

Yes, sahib, a British shell.
Presently Ranjoor Singh waded along the trench to have word with Captain Fellowes, who was wounded rather badly.

I made busy with the men about me, making them stand where they could see best with least risk of exposure and ordering spade work here and there.

It is a strange thing, sahib, but I have never seen it otherwise, that spade work--which is surely the most important thing--is the last thing troopers will attend to unless compelled.