“Of course I did.”
“Well, what do you say? Will they fight if it comes to a row?”
“Certainly they will!” replied Ingleborough.
There was a derisive laugh at his words, and West flushed a little on hearing it, as the volunteers gathered round.
“Bah! It’s all bluff!” cried a voice. “They know that by holding out they can get what they want. They’d cave in directly if we showed a bold front.”
“Moral,” said West; “show a bold front.”
“That’s what we’re doing,” said one of the men; “but there’s too much of it. Some of the officers have war on the brain, and want to force the soldiering element to the very front. We’ve done enough to show the Doppers that we should fight if there was any occasion. There was no drilling going on when you were at Pretoria, eh, Ingleborough?”
“Yes, there was, a good deal,” said the young man slowly. “They did not make any fuss, but in a quiet way they were hard at work, especially with their gun drill.”
“Gun drill!” cried one of the group contemptuously. “What, with a few rusty old cannon and some wooden quakers?”
There was a roar of laughter at this, and West coloured a little more deeply with annoyance, but Ingleborough shrugged his shoulders, turned his little finger into a tobacco-stopper, and went on smoking.