“Let’s have it, sir. I’ve had so much that it runs away now like water off a duck’s back.”
“It has nothing to do with water, sergeant, but with fire.”
“That all, sir? I see; I’m to stop till the detachment’s well out of the way, and then fire the laager?”
“No,” said Dickenson; “that will be done before the men have marched. You are to stop with me and light the fuses.”
“To blow up the ammunition, sir? Well, I was wondering who was to do that.”
“It’s a risky job, sergeant.”
“Pooh, sir! Nothing like advancing against a lot of hiding Boers waiting to pot you with their Mausers. Beg pardon, sir; who was Mauser?”
“I don’t know, sergeant. I suppose he was the man who invented the Boer rifles.”
“And a nice thing to be proud of, sir! I’m not a vicious sort of fellow, but I do feel sometimes as if I should like to see him set up as a mark, and a couple of score o’ Boers busy trying how his invention worked.”