“Yes, I do now. Strict orders were given that no one was to smoke in the barns.”
“Did you hear the order given?”
“Yes; and Sergeant Briggs muttered about it, and said it would serve the old Boer right if his hams were burned down.”
“So it would,” said my companion; “but I don’t want us to be burned in them. Oh dear!”
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“I wish this old war was over, and the same wish comes every night when I can’t sleep; but in the daytime I feel as different as can be, and begin desiring that we could overtake the Boers and all who caused the trouble, and give them such a thrashing as should make them sue for peace. I say—”
“Yes,” I replied.
“That’s all. Good-night. I can’t smell the smoking now.”
Neither could I.