“Of being so cowardly, sir?” said the lieutenant dryly.
“Yes; it was very weak,” replied Stan.
“Oh yes, very,” said the lieutenant, with a curious croak in his throat. “I never saw such a cowardly lot as we all are in my life.—Eh, lads?”
A wild, half-hysterical laugh arose from the party, and the next minute a most absurd performance was gone through, the men all beginning to shake hands with one another, the biggest fellow present with tears running down his cheeks.
“Shocking cowards, all of us, Mr Lynn,” said the lieutenant huskily; “but we’ve sent them flying with fleas in their ears.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Stan excitedly now, as he fast recovered from his weakness. “Oh! it was bravely done, but you ought to have had a man to lead you. Here, we must go down and let Mr Blunt hear the news.”
“Yes, directly,” said the lieutenant; “but when I tell him—I mean, we tell him—all that has been done, I think I know what he’ll say.”
“Say?” cried Stan, staring at the speaker. “What will he say?”
“That he couldn’t have done it better himself.”
A tremendous cheer arose at this, and the colour began to return to the young leader’s face, while to turn the conversation, which was growing painful, Stan suddenly said, addressing all: