“Everything seems quite satisfactory,” Uncle Jack was fain to say at last. And then, “Look here, boys,” he cried, “Cob and I have been talking this matter over, and we say that the works must take care of themselves. You two have to come back with us.”
“What! And leave the place to its fate?” said Uncle Dick.
“Yes. Better do that than any mishap should come to you.”
“What do you say, Bob?”
“I’ve a very great objection to being blown up, knocked on the head, or burned,” said Uncle Bob quietly. “It’s just so with a soldier; he does not want to be shot, bayoneted, or sabred, but he has to take his chance. I’m going to take mine.”
“So am I,” said Uncle Dick.
“But, my dear boys—”
“There, it’s of no use; is it, Bob?” cried Uncle Dick. “If we give way he’ll always be bouncing over us about how he kept watch and we daren’t.”
“Nonsense!” cried Uncle Jack.
“Well, if you didn’t,” said Uncle Bob, “that cocky consequential small man of a boy, Cob, will be always going about with his nose in the air and sneering. I shall stay.”