“Muskeeters will have eaten them up. They are just awful under the bushes and among the trees.”
“Look there,” said Fitz, interrupting the conversation. “Seem to be more coming on.”
“That’s just what I was thinking, Mr Burnett, sir. Reinforcement, don’t you call it? My! How wild our lads will be, ’specially old Butters, when I come to tell ’em all about it. Makes me feel like being on board a man-o’-war again, all the more so for having a young officer at my elber.”
“Don’t you be insolent,” said Fitz.
“Well!” cried the carpenter. “I say, Mr Poole, sir, I call that ’ard. I didn’t mean cheek, sir, really.”
“All right, Chips, I believe you,” said Fitz excitedly. “Look, Poole; they’re getting well round us. Look how they are swarming over yonder.”
“Yes, it means the attack,” replied Poole coolly.
“Yes,” cried Fitz. “Oughtn’t we to begin, and not let them get all the best places? There’s nothing like getting first blow.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Poole, who did not seem in the slightest degree impressed by the serious nature of their position. “You’re not a player, you know. This is our game.”
Fitz reddened, and turned away with an impatient gesture, so that he did not see the carpenter give Poole a peculiar wink and his leg a silent slap, indicative of his enjoyment.