Colonel Darrell sat gazing straight before him for some moments, and then he brought his fist down hard upon the table on either side of which they sat.
“No,” he said loudly. “Palmam qui meruit ferat.”
“My dear boy!” cried Wyatt, puckering up his forehead, “don’t scatter Latin all over the place. Good old English will do.”
“Very well, then, we will not brag about what we did, but stick the feather in the right man’s cap.”
“Whose?” cried Wyatt eagerly.
“That of old Sergeant Stubbs.”
“And the brave Englishmen who fought and died.”