“This is the lad, Wilson, of whom we were speaking yesterday. You received a report from the officer commanding the 4th Column, stating how Ensign Russell had helped to bring it safely in.”
Ted stood by with downcast eyes, and as he fumbled nervously with his sword-hilt he looked anything but a hero. Once or twice he opened his mouth as though he wished to speak, but could not overcome his nervousness.
General Wilson spoke cordially and kindly to him.
“So you are Ensign Russell? I must tell you that your storming of that nullah was worthy of the best traditions of our young officers. I am proud of commanding an army in which deeds of heroism are of daily occurrence, and young as you are, on General Nicholson’s advice, I intend to mark my appreciation by recommending you for promotion. Whilst awaiting formal confirmation, I take upon myself to raise you to subaltern rank. Good-day, Lieutenant Russell!”
“Good-bye, lad!” echoed Nicholson.
“Thank you, sir!” Ted mumbled and moved away, then stopped in some confusion, and again made as if to speak, but the eyes of the two generals were turned away.
Anticipating some such reward for his brother’s display of courage and resource, Jim had accompanied him to the camp, and was now walking up and down at some distance from the general’s tent.
“Well, what is it, old boy?” he asked excitedly, for Jim was feeling proud of his younger brother’s distinction.
For a few paces the boy walked on without replying. Then he said quietly and wearily:
“They complimented me about something or other. I’m sick of it.”