“Not you, or you would not talk like that.”
“I tell you I do, sir. You felt just as I did first time I went into action, and heard the bullets go whizzing by like bees in the air, and saw some of them sting the poor fellows, who kept on dropping here and there, many of ’em never to get up again. I thought I was in a terrible fright, and that I was such a miserable coward I ought to be drummed out of the regiment; but it couldn’t have been fright, only not being used to it; and I couldn’t have been a coward, because I was in the front rank all the time, close alongside of your father; and when we’d charged and driven the enemy flying, the colonel clapped me on the shoulder and said he’d never seen a braver bit of work in his life, and of course he ought to know.”
“I did feel horribly frightened, though,” said Cyril.
“Thought you did, sir, that was all. You couldn’t have done it better.”
“I don’t know,” said the boy, smiling. “Suppose the Indians had found me out?”
“Found you out, sir? Bah! If it comes to the worst, they’ll find out you can fight as well as talk. Now, just look here, sir; didn’t you ever have a set to at school, when you were at home in England?”
“Yes, two or three.”
“And didn’t you feel shimmery-whimmery before you began?”
“Yes.”
“And as soon as you were hurt, forgot all that, and went in and whipped.”