Chapter Thirty Four.
The Mud that Stuck.
“It’s a bad business, Mr Lennox,” said the colonel sternly, some weeks later, when matters looked very dreary again in the camp, for the supplies of provisions had once more begun to grow very short, and the constant strain of petty attacks had affected officers and men to a degree that made them morose and bitter in the extreme.
“But surely, sir, you don’t believe this of me?” said Lennox, flushing.
“As a man, no, Mr Lennox; but as your commanding officer I am placed in a very awkward position. The captain of your company makes the most terrible charge against you that could be made against a young officer.”
“But under what circumstances? He was suffering from a serious injury to the head; he was delirious at the time.”
“But he is not delirious now, Mr Lennox, and that which he accused you of in a state of wild frenzy he maintains, now that he is recovering fast, in cold blood.”
“Yes, sir; it seems cold-blooded enough after what I did for him.”
“Unfortunately he maintains that this is all an invention on your part.”
“And my being dragged away for some distance by one of the Boers, sir?”