And from another voice a repetition of the cheer:
“Hurrah! Hurrah! When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah!”
“Ah, Mr Bracy, sir, just having a bit of a sing-song together.”
“Why, Gedge, my lad, how are you—how are you getting on?”
“I don’t look in, sir, and I’ll tell yer. Doctor says it’s all right, but my blessed head keeps on swelling still. I don’t believe I shall ever get my ’elmet on agen. My mate here, though, is getting on swimming.”
“That’s right. You’ll lie up in hospital for a hit and soon be well.”
“Orspital, sir? Yes; but it’s longing to be back in barracks, tents, or the ranks as worries me. But never say die, sir. We’ve got here.—How do, Captain? Thank ye for asking. Yes, sir; getting on, sir. We’ve got here with on’y us two knocked over. Now then, sir, what next?”
“Yes, Gedge,” said the young officer thoughtfully; “what next?”
“I’ll tell you,” said Roberts cheerily; “find our traps and that fellow’s hoots.”