"Hang the niggers!" roared Mac; "it's you I want tae ken aboot. Hoo——?"
"I see you have got on to the South African trail after all, George," I said, grasping his hand.
"Close up there, men!" roared the sergeant.
"Darn it! Dead-broke, doesn't ye see who is here?" remonstrated another familiar voice, and next instant I was shaking hands with Sergeant Dead-broke Peter—I never knew his other name. There was now a general confusion owing to the men having to lead their horses down to the wharf where the transport Maori King was waiting to receive them, and by adopting tactics not unknown nearer home Mac and I got down with the troopers.
"An' has ye not a word for Shandy Bill?" suddenly spoke another voice at my side.
"An' Sam Wilkins?" said a quiet-looking trooper.
"An' me—Corporal Vic Charlie?" cried the one who had remonstrated with his sergeant.
"Is the whole camp here?" I cried surprisedly, while Mac muttered strange words anent the results of shaving on a person's appearance.
"No; only five," answered Vic Charlie. "Gilgai and Little Bob came down too; but they were too old, an' they is goin' out west again to-night when they see us away."