Lennox was well enough, when the sun was up, to accompany Dickenson to the examination of the scene of the explosion, but not in time to witness the discovery of two bags of unexploded powder, from where they had been hurled by Colour-Sergeant James, who was on the ground before it was light, as he explained to the two young officers.
“You were early, sergeant,” said Lennox. “Yes, sir; to tell the truth, I was. You see, I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
“In so much pain?”
“Well, the back of my head did smart pretty tidy, I must say, sir, and I couldn’t lay flat on my back as I generally do; but it wasn’t that, sir—it was the thought of the step up. Just think of it, sir! Only been full sergeant two years, and a step up all at once like that.”
“Well, you deserved it,” said Lennox quietly. “Deserved it, sir? Well, what about you?”
“Oh, I dare say I shall get my promotion when I’ve earned it,” said Lennox. “Now then, let’s look round. You found two bags of the powder, then?”
“Yes, sir,” said the man, pointing; “one down in that pit where they dug the soil for filling the biscuit-tins and baskets, and the other yonder behind that wall. The blast must have blown right over them.”
“But how about the sentry the colonel said he saw here?” asked Lennox.
The man’s countenance changed, a fierce frown distorting it.
“He was quite right, sir,” said the sergeant, nodding his head. “They found him this morning at his post.”