“What fellow in what story?” said the colonel coldly.
“That Mr Dick, sir, who couldn’t write anything without getting King Charles’s head into it.”
“I see; and you think Captain Roby cannot help getting what he considers to be Lennox’s cowardice into his head?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Humph! Well, there may be something in that. There, I have no more to say to you now. No rashness to-night, but do your best with your men. I’d rather hear that you saved one of our lads than killed half-a-dozen Boers.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Understand this too. If you have any conversation with your brother officers, say I have had you here to give you a severe reproof for the present, and that probably something more will follow when we have crushed the Boers. If they crush us you will get off. That will do, Dickenson. I expect our friends will visit us to-night, though more probably it will be just before daylight. Ask the major to step here as you go. By the way, you and Lennox were at school together?”
“Yes, sir; and at Sandhurst too.”
“Well, I hope he has as good an opinion of you as you have of him. Good-night for the present.”
“Good-night, sir,” said the young man as he went out into the starlight to deliver his message.—“Well, I hope we shall win to-night, for the chief’s sake! Hang it all,” he muttered, “what a brick he is!”