That voice? Surely it was familiar, Herbert thought.
‘I can’t give you another man. There isn’t time. Besides, every other post is threatened. However, you’ve got your orders; you must hold out to the last, you understand?’ said the colonel, pretty sharply.
‘But, sir, it’s not fair upon us. I must really protest. We shall be cut to pieces. What can such a handful do? For God’s sake don’t leave us like this—’
The other turned on his heel, but stopped short to say,
‘Upon my word, Mr.—Mr.—Farrington—I cannot compliment you on your demeanour. If there was another officer within reach I’d relieve you of your command. I wish even there was a steady old sergeant or two—’
Then his eye fell upon Herbert, who had moved a little farther away during the foregoing colloquy, partly because he felt that he ought not to overhear the colonel’s strictures, and partly because he was greatly excited at this unexpected rencontre with Ernest Farrington.
‘Ah, a sergeant, a colour-sergeant too? You have heard, no doubt? The post is about to be attacked. I have been telling the commandant here he must draw in the line of defence. Be careful not to waste ammunition, and hold on like grim death. You understand?’
‘All right, sir,’ answered Herbert cheerily, and the colonel went off, probably a little happier in his mind.
‘Any further orders, sir?’ Herbert quietly asked of Ernest Farrington, who was ashen pale, and too much agitated seemingly to recognise the man who spoke to him.