And soon the whisper went round that they were not bound for anywhere—unless the —— old camp. The morning's alarm and all that followed had been merely by way of practice.
At such a time different men have different feelings, or, at least, different ways of expressing them. Jake laughed philosophically and appeared to dismiss the whole affair. Willie swore with a curious and seemingly unnecessary bitterness, at frequent intervals, for the next hour or so. Macgregor remained in a semi-stunned condition of mind until the opportunity came for making a little private bonfire of the two letters; after which melancholy operation he straightway recovered his usual good spirits.
'Never heed, Wullie,' he said, later; 'we'll get oor chance yet.'
Willie exploded. 'What for did ye get me to mak' sic a —— cod o' masel'?'
'Cod o' yersel'? Me?'
'Ay, you!—gettin' me to send a caird to ma —— aunt! What for did ye dae it?'
Macgregor stared. 'But ye didna post it,' he began.
'Ay, but I did. I gi'ed it to a man at the station.'
'Oh! . . . Weel, ye'll just ha'e to send her anither.'
'That'll no mak' me less o' a cod.'