“We got well into the laager last night, sir, with a hundred and fifty men,” said Dickenson in tones of protest.
“But you wouldn’t get in to-night with one, and such an enterprise against either of the other laagers would now be impossible. There, I can make no further concessions, for all your sakes, so be content.”
“You are right, sir, and I am wrong,” replied Dickenson quietly.
“You will retire, then, directly you find the place occupied?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go, then, as soon as it is dark. You can pick two men who can ride, take three of the captured Bechuana ponies, and one can hold them while the others search.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But I have no hope of your finding him, Dickenson. This is solely from a desire that we may feel we have done all we can do in such a case. Now I am busy. You have been up all night, and nearly been killed. Go and lie down for a few hours’ sleep.”
The young officer left the colonel’s presence, and had no trouble in finding the sergeant, for he was watching for his return, and heard with eagerness the result.
“Ride? Capital, sir; make us fresher for our work. We shall find him. I don’t believe he’s dead. Now you’ll take a rest, sir. I’ll have the ponies ready, and the men.”