“Four, sir,” growled a deep voice. “Two black fellows, sir, and here’s two youngsters, sir, as far as I can make out. One of ’em’s wounded, sir.”
“Well, we don’t want prisoners,” cried the lieutenant, “but we must take them. See that you bind them fast.”
“We don’t want binding, sir,” gasped Murray. “We’ve got away from the enemy and reached you at last.”
“Mr Murray! This is grand!” cried the chief officer. “But have you seen anything of poor Roberts?”
“I’ve got him here, sir, but he’s badly wounded.”
“And we’ve no doctor with us.”
“I don’t think it’s dangerous, sir; but have you had any news of May and Titely?”
“Tom May is with us, my lad.”
“Hurt, sir?”
“Here, answer for yourself, my lad,” cried the lieutenant.