In the fierce mêlée sabres, pistols, and rammers were used for the defence, but several men went down, and with them Dick, who was conscious of a mounted man riding at him right out of the smoke to give him a terrible cut upon the helmet, and then of the flash of a sabre from somewhere by his side, a heavy concussion, and of hearing a hoarse, gurgling cry. Then noise and confusion, with darkness over all.
Chapter XLI.
Friends or Enemies?
“Not dead this time, are you, Dick, old lad?” came out of the darkness just as it was beginning to get light to the sufferer, and the young officer started up, but fell back sick and giddy.
“Here,” he gasped, “where’s my horse—what’s matter? Is—Oh, I remember now.”
“Drink a drop of this water, old fellow. Robson says you’re only stunned.”
Dick drank with avidity, and then pushed away the metal cup.
“Where’s my helmet?” he panted.
“There; but you can’t get it on till it has been hammered.”
“Where’s Burnouse?”