Guilford came up to him, smiling. "Why, Doctor," he said, "how pale you look!"
"Tired," McTavish answered brightly.
"Have a drop of my rum."
Next minute the flask was popped into his hand.
"We've got a thrashing, haven't we?"
"Rayther," he replied. "Out-numbered, you see. Only five-and-thirty men left in whole skins. And poor Fisher, he--he----"
He turned away to hide a tear.
"Come," he said, fronting McTavish again. "Let us take a turn round the camp before it gets dark. Can you spare me, sir?"
"Certainly," said the commander.
Then away they went.