“Captain Roby,” said the colonel, “I beg that you will say no more now upon this painful subject. Resume your seat, sir.”
“Sir,” said Roby, “I must ask your permission to leave the mess-table. Whatever my brother officers may choose to do, I absolutely refuse to sit at the same table with a—”
“Stop!” roared Dickenson, springing up again in a furious passion. “If you dare to call my friend Lennox a coward again, court-martial or no court-martial, I’ll knock you down.”
Every man now sprang to his feet as if startled by the sudden verbal shell which had fallen amongst them. Then there was a dead silence, till Lennox said huskily, “Will you give me your permission to return to my quarters, sir?”
“No, Mr Lennox,” said the colonel quietly. “Take your places again, gentlemen.—Captain Roby—Mr Lennox—if we are alive and uninjured in the morning I will see you both at my quarters with respect to this painful business. To-night we have other matters to arrange. I have just received trustworthy information that another reinforcement has reached the enemy. I have doubled the number of scouts sent out, and as soon as we have dined we have all our work to do in completing our arrangements to meet what the Boers intend for their final attack. Gentlemen, sit down. Our duty to our country first; minor matters of discipline after.”
There was a low buzz of excitement as every man resumed his seat, Roby alone hesitating, but dropping sharply back into his place in unwilling obedience to a sharp tug given at his tunic by the officers on either side.
“What about your promise?” said Lennox in a whisper to Dickenson.
“Hang my promise!” growled his comrade. “Do you take me for a stump?”