I bowed my head.
“Well, it’ll put some courage into you.”
He picked up the two pannikins, and stepped out again.
“I’m glad we took it,” said Denham. “It’s better than looking ready to show the white feather.”
“I don’t think we should have faltered even without the food,” I replied.
We both relapsed into silence now, for talking seemed to be impossible. We had to think of the past and of the future. One minute I felt in despair, and the next I was filled with a strange kind of hope that was inexplicable.
It was during one of these oft-recurring intervals, as the time wore on, that Denham turned to me suddenly and said, just as if in answer to something I had said, for his thoughts were very much the same as mine:
“There, I can’t make anything else of it, Val: we were doing our duty, and trying to save the lives of our friends.”
“Yes,” I said quietly; then, both shrinking from speaking again, we sat listening to the sounds outside. From time to time one or other of the men on guard looked in to see that we were safe, though for the matter of that we had hardly thought of stirring, as escape seemed to be quite impossible.
It was about midday, after a very long silence, when Denham suddenly remarked, “It went against the grain at first, Val; but I won’t attempt to fire at that brute. He’ll get his deserts one of these days. You’re right; we don’t want to go out like that. I want us to be able to stand up before the enemy quite calm and steady. We must show them what Englishmen can do.”