“Um—no,” drawled the doctor. “A fresh patient with a touch of fever; but it wasn’t that. I meant—that is, I wondered how you meant to send the despatch?”
“Ha! Yes,” said the colonel thoughtfully; “how? I don’t feel disposed to risk any more men, and I hear that the Kaffirs do not seem to be tempted by the pay offered them, although I have offered double what I gave before.”
“That’s bad,” said the doctor. “Well, I suppose you can hold this place?”
“Tight!” said the colonel laconically.
“So long as provisions and ammunition hold out?” said Captain Roby tentatively.
“Yes,” assented the colonel.
“And when they are ended,” cried Dickenson, who had sat listening in silence, “we can try a bit of sport. There are herds of antelopes and flocks of guinea-fowl about, sir.”
“I doubt it, Dickenson,” said the colonel, smiling; “and I fancy that the most profitable form of sport for us will be that followed out by our mounted men.”
“What’s that, sir?” asked Dickenson.
“Stalking the enemy’s convoys. These fellows have to be fed, hardy and self-supporting as they are. But there, we are pretty well supplied as yet, and the great thing is that our water-supply is never likely to fail.”