“Here, Murray,” whispered the officer pettishly, “you’d better take command of the expedition. You are sharper than I am.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.”
“Not at all. I’m not so weak as to resent hearing a good suggestion. You are quite right, my lad. I only wonder that your brain keeps so clear in the horrible confusion this smoke brings on. Here, let’s put your suggestion into use. Where’s Tom May?”
“Here, sir.”
“Can you tell which way the enemy retreated?”
“For sartin. This here nigger’s lying on his back with his head pynted the way his party came from—shot right through his chesty; and there’s a spear, sir, sticking slahntindickler in the ashes as shows the way which it was throwed from. Both being from the same bearings seems to say, sir, as that’s the way the niggers would run.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the lieutenant thoughtfully. “Not quite sure, my man?”
“No, sir, but I heerd them seem to run same way, so I thought it was a bit likely, sir.”
“Likely enough for us to follow, my lad,” said the officer; “so lead off, and keep on in the direction you think that the shore will lie.”
“Can’t do that, sir,” said the man bluntly. “Only think, sir, as it will be farthest from where the enemy came.”