The effect was marvellous. In an instant a spasm ran through the stony features. There was a fit of coughing and choking, and as the men around, always ready for a laugh, broke out, the supposed dead opened his eyes, stared blankly, and gasped out:
“Stow that! Here, who did it? Here, I’ll just wipe some one’s eye for that, here, I know—I—here—I s’y—I—er—Mr Bracy, sir! You wouldn’t play tricks with a fellow like that? Ah, I recklect now!”
The poor fellow’s hand went to his bare head, and he winced at the acute pain the touch gave him.
“I say, sir,” he said, “ketched me a spank right there.—Is my ’elmet spoiled?”
“Never mind your helmet, Gedge, my lad,” cried Bracy, who was bending over him. “There, you must lie still till we get something ready to carry you to the ambulance.”
“Kerry me, sir! What for? Ain’t going to croak, am I? Not me. Here, I’m all right, sir. Give’s a drink outer my bottle.—Hah! that’s good.—Drop more, please, Sergeant,—Thanky.—Hah! that is good. Feel as if I could drink like a squelchy-welchy.—Here, I s’y, where’s my rifle?”
“I’ve got it, pardner,” said one of the lads.
“Oh, that’s right. Ain’t got the stock skretched, hev it?”
“No, no; that’s all right, Bill.”
“Glad o’ that. Here, I s’y; I went down, didn’t I?”