“I quite agree with you, Major Sandars,” said the captain stiffly.
“What the dickens have we been doing?” thought Bob; and then he stared hard at the resident, and wished heartily that Rachel Linton’s father had not been chosen to give him what he felt sure was a setting down for some reason or another.
“As you will, gentlemen,” said the resident firmly, and he then placed his elbows on the table and joined his fingers, while the light from the lamp shone full upon his forehead.
“Mr Ensign Long—Mr Midshipman Roberts,” he began. “He might have placed me first,” thought Bob. “I wish someone would catch those wretched moths.”
“You have been out on an expedition to-day?”
He waited for an answer, and as Tom Long had been placed first, Bob waited, too; but as his companion did not speak, Bob exclaimed quickly—
“Yes, sir, snipe shooting;” and as the resident bowed his head, Bob added, “two brace.”
“Confound you—you young dogs!” cried Captain Horton, “and you brought a brace of something else. I beg your pardon, Mr Linton; go on.”
Mr Linton bowed, while Bob uttered a barely audible whistle, and glanced at his companion.
“Then it’s about those two girls,” he thought.