“Oh Sergeant!” I said, with a feeling of relief. “But what about Joeboy? I did wonder once why he had not been to see me.”
“I didn’t look after him, sir,” said the Sergeant. “He’s a sort of free-lancer, and not under orders.”
“But when did you see him last?” I asked.
“Well, I’m a bit puzzled about that. I say, hear that?”
“Hear them? Yes, of course,” said Denham angrily. “The brutes! The cowards! Oh, if I were only well!”
“Oh, let ’em alone, sir,” said the Sergeant coolly as, beginning with a few scattered shots, the firing outside had rapidly increased. “They’re doing no harm. Do you know what it is?”
“Our poor fellows exposing themselves thoughtlessly, I suppose,” said Denham bitterly.
“Only their hats, sir. It’s about the only pleasure the poor lads have. It’s a game they have for pennies. Some one invented it yesterday. Six of ’em play, and put on a penny each. Each game lasts five minutes, and the players put their hats upon the top of a stone. Then the man who has most bullets through his hat takes the pool.”
“What folly!” said Denham fretfully.
“Well, as I told them, sir, it isn’t good for their hats; but, as they said, it wastes the Doppies’ cartridges, and pleases the lads to make fools of ’em. You can hear them cheer sometimes when a hat is suddenly pulled down. They think they’ve killed a man—bless ’em! They’re very nice people.”