“Well, no; they were stupid there,” I said.
“Stupid, Lieutenant Moray!”
“What!” I exclaimed. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Oh yes; all right. You’re not a commissioned officer yet, but you will be. Promoted for special bravery and service in the field.”
“Nonsense!” I said, flushing up.
“Oh, but you will be, sure. Not that I think you deserve it. There wasn’t much risk.”
“Oh no,” I said; “only the risk of being taken, and shot for a traitor, a thief, and a spy.”
“That’s only what the Doppies would call it, and they’re idiots.”
“If a fellow is going to be shot,” I said, “it doesn’t make much difference to him whether he’s shot by a wise man or a fool.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Denham quickly. “I’d rather be shot by a wise man than by a Boer pig. But there was no risk. You and that big nigger went in the dark, and you had luck on your side, and— Oh, I say, Val, you did it splendidly! I had a good tuck-out of mealie-porridge this morning, and three big slices of prime beef frizzled. I feel quite a new man with all that under my jacket, and ready to take two Boers single-handed.”