"Well, I'll go," said Challis. "You are the boss; besides, you're a better shot than I."
"But, hang it, man! you've already been wounded, and I'm without a scratch. Your job is to get perfectly fit again in the shortest possible time. John, go and collect all the things that will hold water. There's our collapsible pail; you can take a meat tin or two. Hunt about the place on the chance of finding something else."
"Look here, Hugh," said Challis, rising, "I insist on taking a hand."
"Rot, I tell you! If I'm boss, you'll have to obey orders."
"I won't!"
"Mutiny, by Jove! This won't do, Tom. To settle matters without squabbling, we'll toss for it. Heads, I go; tails, you."
He spun a coin.
"Tails!" cried Challis.
"Done you! It's heads," said Royce lifting his hand.
"I might have known it—you always win the toss," Challis grumbled.