"Fine, sir," answered the soldier. His accent was British through and through. John gave him permission to carry on, and Ewins closed his breech with a heavy click.
"The Colonel has been speaking very highly of your gunnery."
Ewins looked up quickly, with an expression of pleasure in his eyes.
"Has he, sir?" He paused a moment and hesitated. "It makes a great difference being under him, sir; he sort of brings it out, if you know what I mean; puts you on your mettle."
John made a mental note of his admiration for the Colonel.
"I heard about your trouble last week, Ewins."
"You mean Tuesday morning, sir?"
"Yes," John answered. "What was the trouble after all?"
Ewins looked perplexed.
"It beats me fairly, sir. There was nothing wrong when they called me—that is, there was nothing wrong after I'd been here a minute or two. You know how she works, sir." As he spoke he almost with a finger raised the great muzzle of his weapon, then made a neat sweep to right and left. "Well, she just lay here like a dead thing."