His eye, listless no more, scanned the hollow.

'That's only the overture,' he cried.

'The opera will soon begin.

We must put a breastwork up in these gaps or they'll pick us off from a thousand yards.' I had meantime roughly dressed Blenkiron's wound with a linen rag which Hussin provided.

It was from a ricochet bullet which had chipped into his left shin.