“Do yer, sir? I’m very sorry.”
“Suppose, while we’re lying in the snow, one or two of the ruffians come and stumble right over us?”
“I hope they won’t, sir,” said Gedge, with a grim look in his eyes, as he drew his dagger-like bayonet out and touched the point with his thumb. “That’s pretty sharp, sir, and we should be on the lookout, and holding ’em in our hands, as what Sergeant Gee calls a shiver-de-freexe. They might tumble on them.”
“Gedge, my lad, you’re full of resources,” said Bracy eagerly. “We’ll try your plan, exactly as you propose.”
“Thank ye, sir,” said the lad uneasily; “but I don’t want you to think I’m cocky and knowing, and like to be thought double cunning.”
“That will do,” said Bracy, smiling. “Let’s think of the task we have in hand. It is no time to discuss trifles. This is all part of fighting for our lives.”