“Poor wretch! He’s quite off his head. He seemed to be talking about how he tried to blow up the magazine.”
“Said he was sorry for it, perhaps, sir?”
“No, Pete; I didn’t catch that.”
“Ah, well, he would be, sir, because he didn’t get away fast enough. A chap who would do a thing like that wouldn’t feel sorry for it if he hadn’t got caught.—I say, pst! Look here, Mister Archie.”
“What is it?”
“I was only just in time to catch sight of them. Think of it! I only turned my head to talk to you, but two of them took advantage and crept right close up behind that bush. Can you see ’em?”
“No.”
“Well, I can, sir, or think I can, because I saw them for a moment as they dashed in. You stand back from the window, sir. There’s only shelter for one, and that’s me.”
“Are you going to fire?”
“Don’t quite know, sir. Depends on them. They must have seen you when you stood looking out before that Frenchman began to talk. I could send a shot right through the bush, and it might hit one of them; but then it mightn’t, and I should have wasted a cartridge. I think I’ll wait till they come out to shoot or chuck a spear, and then I can be sure. What do you say?”