“Oh, I know, sir,” said the man again, with a shudder.
“Well, speak out; don’t be afraid.”
“Enough to make any man feel afraid, sir,” half whimpered the man. “I don’t mind going into action, sir. I’ve shown afore now as I’d follow my officers anywhere.”
“Of course you would, my lad,” said Lennox, patting the young fellow encouragingly on the shoulder, for he could see that he was suffering from a shock, and, doubtless from abstinence and weakness, was half-hysterical.
“It’s bad enough, sir, to be posted in the darkness upon a shelf like that over there, expecting every moment to get a bullet in you; but when it comes to anything like this, it makes a fellow feel like a coward.”
“Who said coward?” said Dickenson, who had followed his companion and now came up.
“I did, sir,” said the man through his chattering teeth.
“Where is he?” said Dickenson. “I should like to look at him. I haven’t seen one lately.”
“Here he is, sir,” said the poor fellow, growing more agitated; “it’s me.”
“Get out!” cried Dickenson good-humouredly. “You’re not a coward. There isn’t such a thing in the regiment.”