Damaged, in that bunged up eyes and swelled noses—and here and there a cut lip—were in evidence; but all were in the last stage of cheerfulness.
“Why isn’t Raynier here, I wonder?” was asked.
“He? Oh, I expect he went on taking care of that Indian Johnny. He likes those chaps, you know, has to do with them out there. He’ll turn up all right—never fear.”
“Don’t know. Don’t like losing sight of him,” said another.
“Oh, he’ll turn up all right. He knows jolly well how to take care of himself.”
But as the night became morning, and the frantic howling of patriotism gone mad rent the otherwise still hours, Raynier did not turn up. Then the revellers and quondam combatants became uneasy—such of them, that is, as were still capable of reflection in any form.