Re some of those Boer beggars just under our kopje,
and that one of them had raised his rifle to pick off Bullfrog. So I
made a flying leap on to his back and knocked him flat, and the bullet
that was meant for him just crossed
the back of my coat and ripped
it up. Didn't even scratch me!" The
little knot of listeners around Martin waited with bated breath for
more. "But he didn't escape scot-free after all," continued Martin.
"Ten minutes after that he got shot in the leg. The bone was
fractured, and he couldn't move. I saw him fall and I pulled him to a
little hollow under a stone where he'd be safe. And it was just as
well, for the cavalry came up over there
when the chase began. We gave them the licking they deserved that day.
But you know all about
that." "Wish I'd been you!"
said Martin's old schoolfellow very enviously. "But what about
Bullfrog after that?" "He was taken
in the ambulance-cart and put in hospital. I saw him there and he was
getting
on all right." "And what did he say?"
"He said I'd caught him out again and a lot more. But it was all
nonsense, you know." "I expect he was
sorry he'd
ever made it hot for you," said one of the listeners. "You ought to
have a VC or something
for it, _I_ consider," said another. "Rot!" a
