“Do it directly, sir: but you give the orders sharp yourself, and as if you meant business. The men will like it. You’ve no idea how they notice that sort of thing, sir, and what a deal they think of an officer who seems to be always on the kwee weeve to keep them out of danger. It gives ’em confidence, sir, and they work twice as well. That’s why our troop’s so smart—the men believe in their officers.”
“Thank you, Stubbs,” said Dick quietly. “Yes? You were going to say something else?”
“Which I were, sir. What do you say to ordering out the squads o’ number one and two, letting ’em unlimber and turn the guns to command the gateway, then load up with grape, and dismiss all but two men with lighted linstocks. You could do with one sentry at the gate then, and take a couple from the roof to balance it.”
“Yes, excellent,” said Dick; and the next minute the orders were being given in as manly a tone as the lad could command, the gates were closed and barred, the men summoned, the guns run into position and loaded, and all dismissed save two who stood close to the breeches of the bright pieces, armed with their linstocks, each a smouldering spark.
Everything was gone through with the greatest alacrity; and as the men went back to their barrack-room one of them said to a comrade:
“Well, talk about old head on young shoulders!”
“Ah,” said the other. “He’s a sharp un, and no mistake.”
“He is,” said the first man. “I say, you know what the niggers believe in?”
“Everything. See that great copper idol in the temple just yonder?”
“What—of the fat chap with the elephant’s head? Yes; but that isn’t what I mean. ‘Temsy chosy,’ they call it—’bout a man always being on the change after he’s dead, and coming out something else.”