I had been listening quietly while all this talk went on; but, with a heavy and fast-increasing feeling of depression, I could restrain myself no longer, and exclaimed, “Oh Denham, suppose the poor fellow’s killed!”
“What, sir!” cried the Sergeant cheerily. “Killed? Who’s to kill a chap like that on a dark night? Nobody could see where to hit. Besides, he goes through grass and bushes and rocks like a short, thick boa-constructor. He’ll turn up all right. Hurrah! Hear that?”
We could hear, distinctly enough, repeated bugle-calls and the frantic cheering of our men. Our little forces had gained a complete victory, scattering the enemy in all directions, the morning light showing the terrible destruction caused by our onslaught.
Chapter Forty Seven.
A Clear Sky.
The rising sun showed that the enemy had disappeared; but ample stores had been secured for those who had so long suffered severe privations.
“Val,” said Denham, “we must ride with our troop this week.”
“Of course,” I said cheerfully; but I had my doubts. Some time later, after we had met our comrades again, we had a long visit from the Colonel.