"Four miles behind, sir, at least," replied the hogshead, proud of having got so far along the road, (as well he might be.)
"How dare you, sir, give me such an answer, and leave your squadron behind?" cried the enraged genius.
Poor hogshead, frothing with excitement, turned round in search of relief, and lighting on the officer in charge of his troop, poured forth the full tide of his indignation on him for not bringing the stragglers to the front.
"And pray, sir, where is my troop?"
"Here are the serjeant-major and two privates; the remainder vary from four to five miles in the rear; and as I could not carry them, they are left behind," replied the troop-leader.
"There is no excuse," cried Ninny.
"But, sir——"
"Hold your tongue, and join your troop."
This was conclusive, and broke up the agreeable interview.