He first became quite conscious of where he was on being roused from a species of waking dose by voices near him.
'Captain,' said an Irish Fusilier, one of Sir Garnet's own, 'I want ten shillings from you.'
'For what purpose?' asked the officer, sharply.
'To bury my brother.'
'Bury your brother, d—n it! I gave you ten shillings for that purpose two days ago.'
'To bury his leg that was, your honour.'
'Well!'
'And now I want another ten shillings to bury the rest of him.'
'Have you a non-commissioned officer with you?'
'Yes, sir—Sergeant Carey,'