“Ahem!—er—do you mean . . . er . . . are you in earnest, sir?”
“Earnest!” The cornet snorted, his face radiant. “Damn my blood but I am in very proper earnest, Mr. What’syourname—as these dastardly scoundrels shall discover ere we’re many hours older. Earnest, b’gob!”
“But Mr. Jope, sir . . . hadn’t you better consult Mr. Jope? . . . He . . .”
“Mr. Jope be dam . . . Mr. Jope has given orders that he’s not to be disturbed on any account, on any account, sir. I am in command here at the moment, and if you will have the civility to show me where this plaguy Monks Cove hides itself instead of standing there sucking your whip you will greatly assist me in forming my plan of action.”
Curral bent over the map and pointed with his finger.
“Here you are, sir, the merest gully.”
“Then I shall charge down the gully,” said Carmichael with that quick grasp of a situation displayed by all great commanders. The riding officer coughed: “Then you’ll have to charge at a walk, sir, and in single file; there’s only a rough pack-track. Further, the track is picketed at the head; as soon as you pass a gun will be fired and when you reach the cove there won’t be a cat stirring.”
Carmichael, like all great commanders, had his alternative. “Then I shall charge ’em from the flank. Can I get up speed down this slope?”
Curral nodded. “Yes, sir. You can ride from top to bottom in a moment of time.”
“How d’you mean?”