"Good Lord deliver us!" exclaimed Studhome, as he doubled his dose of cognac and Seltzer.
"Is it a good country for hunting hereabouts?" asked Sir Harry Scarlett.
"Can't say much for that," replied our visitor, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, the Earl of Lucan will probably cut out other work for you than riding across country; but for sportsmen there are plenty of hares, partridges, and wild duck to keep one's hand in till we see the Russians, which I hope will not be long, for we are already all bored and sick to death of Gallipoli."
"How long have you been here?" asked Beverley.
"A month, colonel. Another troop has just been signalled off the mouth of the Dardanelles."
"The Ganges, with more of ours, perhaps.
"Likely enough; but they come in here every hour."
"Any word yet of moving to the front—of taking the field?" asked Beverley.
"No, nothing seems decided on yet. There are a thousand idle rumours; but we are all in the dark as to the future—French and British alike."
"A deuced bore!" exclaimed two or three together.