“How dare you!” cried Bracy fiercely. “Obey my orders.”
“They ain’t your orders, and it ain’t my dooty to obey a poor fellow as has gone stick stark raving mad.”
“Obey my orders, dog, or—”
“I won’t!” cried Gedge passionately. “I’ll be drummed out if I do.”
“You dog!” roared Bracy, and the pistol clicked.
“Shoot me, then, for a dog,” cried Gedge passionately, “and if I can I’ll try to lick yer hand, but I won’t leave you now.”
The pistol fell with a dull sound as Bracy sank back, and in that terrible darkness and silence, amid the icy snow, a hoarse groan seemed to tear its way from the young officer’s breast.