“What are you doing?” said Bracy sharply.
“Getting your supper ready, sir, and mine,” said the lad coldly.
Bracy tried to raise himself up in the fit of anger which attacked him, but fell back with a groan. Fighting back the sensation of weakness, though, he spoke as firmly as he could.
“I want no food,” he said quietly, “and you are wasting time. A good twenty-four hours have been lost. Go at once.”
“But you must eat something, sir,” said Gedge stubbornly. “There’s the cold coming on awful now the sun’s down, and it will keep it out.”
“Those poor creatures at the fort are waiting and praying for help to come, while the hungry wolves of Dwats are crowding closer and closer in ready for the massacre.”
“Yes, sir—the beasts!—it’s precious hard, but let’s hope—”
“There is no hope, Gedge. It was the last card the Colonel had to play in sending us, and we must not fail. You must go at once.”
“But I aren’t had nothing to-day, sir,” pleaded Gedge, “and my inside’s going mad. Wolves? Why, I feel just as if one was tearing me.”
“Take all the provisions left, and eat as you go.”