“No, Pete; the river winds about so.”
“Of course, sir. Well, no wonder—it ain’t got anything else to do. Got your watch, sir?”
“Yes;” and Archie drew it out from his pocket.
“What time is it, sir?”
“One,” said Archie dryly.
“Can’t be, sir. Why, that means afternoon, and the sun’s only just up.”
“It means that it was one o’clock when we waded into the river, and the water got in, Pete.”
“Stopped! I’m blest! If you had thought of it, sir, you’d better have left it at home. ‘Home, home, sweet home!’” hummed the lad. “But this ain’t home, and I’m precious hungry; but I’d a deal rather be here, after all, than in the old whitewashed barracks where we were stationed last, with nothing but drill, drill, drill, till one felt as if they had drilled a hole right through you. Feel anything of your head now, sir?”
“Yes, Pete; but not much.”
“That’s the same with my hurt, sir; but one can’t expect what we got to get well directly. Wish we’d got something to do, if it was only to clean one’s buckles and lay on a bit of pipeclay. Is my face dirty, sir?”