“Yes,” he said, “pretty well for one day’s work; but by the end of a week we shall have a little Gibraltar that will take all the men the Boers have in the field to capture—a regular stronghold, ready like a castle keep if we have to leave the village.”
“And may that never be, colonel,” said Captain Roby.
“Hear, hear!” cried every one present.
“So I say,” said the colonel; “but we may at any time be ordered to occupy some other position. By the way, though, I should not dislike to send the Boer leader a letter of thanks for sending us that gun and a supply of oxen. How many must be killed?”
“Killed?” cried Captain Roby.
“Yes; several were bayoneted in that charge.”
“Three only,” replied the captain, “and they don’t look much the worse for it. Their flesh seems to close up again like india-rubber. The vet says they will all heal up.”
“Good,” said the colonel. “Take it all together, I shall have a pleasant despatch to send to the general. The capture of the big gun; not a man killed, and only three wounded. How are they getting on, doctor?”
“Capitally. Nothing serious. But, by the way—” The doctor stopped and began to clean out his pipe.
“Yes, by the way?” said the colonel. “Nothing unpleasant to report, I hope?”