The footsteps of some one evidently heavily laden came nearer and nearer, till, just as they were about to pass the young officer’s quarters, the occupier screwed-up his lips and gave vent to a low, clear note and its apparent echo, which sounded like the cry of some night-bird.
The next moment there was the sound as of a couple of iron buckets being set down upon the ground, followed by the clang, clang of the handles; a dark shadow crossed the window, and a voice exclaimed:
“You call, sir?”
“That you, Pete?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are you doing?”
“Fatigue-work, sir. Got to take these ’ere buckets round to cook’s quarters.”
“Can you see a letter lying out there anywhere?”
“For the mail, sir?”
“Mail! No, stupid! A piece of notepaper.”