“Close upon starting-time, sir,” said the sergeant out of the darkness behind the lamp.
For a few moments Dickenson was silent, and the sergeant spoke again.
“Time to rouse up, sir.”
“Yes, of course,” said the young officer, getting slowly upon his feet, and having hard work to suppress a groan.
“Bit stiff, sir?”
“Yes; arm and back. I can hardly move. But it will soon go off.”
“Oh yes, sir. It was that big stone nipping you after the blow-up.”
“I expect so,” said Dickenson, struggling into his jacket. “Ha! It’s getting better already. Where are the ponies?”
“Round by the tethering-line, sir; but you’ve got to have a bit of supper first.”
“Oh, I want no supper. I’ve no appetite now.”