“You hold your tongue,” growled the Sergeant. “You’re only a recruit yet, and your head’s getting the better of you too.—Yes, Mr Denham, that’s the Colonel’s own plan, and he’s tried it every night for the last twelve nights.”
“What!” I cried.
“Yes, my lad; called quietly for volunteers, and sent out twelve of our lads; but so far there don’t seem to be one that has got through, and the game gets expensive. There, I must go down again now and get to duty. I saw you two coming up while I was going through the exercise, and I’m very glad to see you both looking so much better.—Well, Joe Black,” he said as he turned away, “how’s Mr Moray’s horse?”
“Um? Coat shine beautiful,” said Joeboy.
“And enough to make it, my lad, seeing the way you rub him down.”
“Denham,” I said that night as we lay wakefully gazing up at the stars, “do you feel any stronger yet?”
“I don’t know. I seem to fancy I do. Why?”
“I thought you did because you’ve been so quiet ever since we had that talk with the Sergeant. I feel stronger.”
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“Because I’ve been thinking that I ought to do that job, and you ought to be on the lookout again, to come to my help if I succeed.”