Duncannon nodded.
"I feel as if I'd been born here. Why?"
"Most fellows," proceeded Herne, ignoring the question, "would have been clamouring for leave long ago. Why, you have scarcely heard your own language all this time."
"I have though," said Duncannon quickly. "That's another thing I've taught 'em. They picked it up wonderfully quickly. There isn't one of 'em who doesn't know a few sentences now."
"You seem to have found your vocation in teaching these heathen to sit up and beg," observed Herne, with a dry smile.
Duncannon turned dusky red under his tan.
"Perhaps I have," he said, with a certain, doggedness.
Herne, with his back to the light, was watching him.
"Well," he said finally, "we've served our turn. The battalion is going Home!"
Duncannon gave a great start.