Looking out of the window now into the quiet night, the watch-fires dotting the plain had a fascination for her greater than the wonder of the southern sky and its plaque of indigo sprinkled with silver dust and diamonds.  Those fires were the bulletins of the night, telling that around each of them men were sleeping, or thinking of other scenes, or wondering whether the fight to-morrow would be their last fight, and if so, what then?  They were to the army like the candle in the home of the cottager.  Those little groups of men sleeping around their fires were like a family, where men grow to serve each other as brother serves brother, knowing each other’s foibles, but preserving each other’s honour for the family’s pride, risking life to save each other.

As Jasmine gazed into the gloom, spattered with a delicate radiance which did not pierce the shadows, but only made lively the darkness, she was suddenly conscious of the dull regular thud of horses’ hoofs upon the veld.  Troops of Mounted Infantry were evidently moving to take up a new position at the bidding of the Master Player.  The sound was like the rub-a-dub of muffled hammers.  The thought forced itself on her mind that here were men secretly hastening to take part in the grim lottery of life and death, from which some, and maybe many, would draw the black ticket of doom, and so pass from the game before the game was won.

The rumbling roll of hoofs grew distinct.  Now they seemed to be almost upon her, and presently they emerged into view from the right, where their progress had been hidden by the hospital-building.  When they reached the hospital there came a soft command and, as the troop passed, every face was turned towards the building.  It was men full of life and the interest of the great game paying passing homage to their helpless comrades in this place of healing.

As they rode past, a few of the troopers had a glimpse of the figure dimly outlined at the window.  Some made kindly jests, cheffing each other—­“Your fancy, old sly-boots?  Arranged it all, eh?  Watch me, Lizzie, as I pass, and wave your lily-white hand!”

But others pressed their lips tightly, for visions of a woman somewhere waiting and watching flashed before their eyes; while others still had only the quiet consciousness of the natural man, that a woman looks at them; and where women are few and most of them are angels,—­the battle-field has no shelter for any other—­such looks have deep significance.

The troop went by steadily, softly and slowly.  After they had all gone past, two horsemen detached from the troop came after.  Presently one of them separated from his companion and rode on.  The other came towards the hospital at a quick trot, drew bridle very near Jasmine’s window, slid to the ground, said a soft word to his charger, patted its neck, and, turning, made for the door of the hospital.  For a moment Jasmine stood looking out, greatly moved, she scarcely knew why, by this little incident of the night, and then suddenly the starlight seemed to draw round the patient animal standing at attention, as it were.