“Yes, of course!”
“Oh, he said he didn’t like much shooting, because he did not want the enemy to know we were up the river, but that if I saw anything in the shape of a deer or a big bird, or anything else good to eat, I was to fire.”
“Hah!” sighed Fitz, as he saw himself spending a lonely day on board.
“Hah!” sighed Poole, in imitation. “I wish you had been going too.”
Fitz looked at him searchingly.
“There!” he cried. “You are gammoning me.”
Poole could not keep it in; his face expanded into a broad grin.
“I knew you were,” cried Fitz.
“Yes, it’s all right, old chap. The governor said that you were to come, for he didn’t think that there would be any trouble, and it would be a pleasant change for you.”
“Your father is a regular trump,” cried Fitz excitedly. “I say, though; I should have liked to have a gun.”