“What about ammunition?”
“That’s all right. Enough for a couple of months yet, fire as hard as we like.”
“Why didn’t Drummond come to see me yesterday? Ah, I know; he has been wounded.”
“Just scratched; that’s all. I dare say he’ll come in some time to-day.”
“Poor fellow! I am sorry.”
“He isn’t—he’s delighted. Goes about with his arm in a sling, showing it to everybody, and telling them about the fight he had with a big Dwat. Says he should have cut him down, only one of our lads was so precious handy with his bayonet and ran him through.”
“Ah!” cried Bracy, flushing slightly, as he mentally pictured the scene. “How bravely our lads do stand by their officers!”
“They do. Good fellows; brave boys. I like the way, too, in which that chap Gedge waits on you.”
“Yes,” said Bracy, with a sigh; “and the poor fellow is not fit to be about. Morton owned to it; but he will wait on me hand and foot, to that horrible woman’s disgust.”
“What! Mrs Gee?”