“Perhaps it isn’t true,” I exclaimed, but a tiny voice that I alone could hear said:
“It is true.”
Fiam, on my collar, had listened to the conversation.
I saluted the colonel and went into my tent.
I started to light a candle, but Fiam stopped me:
“Don’t make a light. If they see a light they may shoot you in the back.”
So we stayed in the dark, and Fiam went on:
“Take hold of me. I am on your shoulder. Now put on my waterproof,” he ordered.
“Why?”
“It is necessary for me to keep dry.”