A shrug intimated that their orders were not the lieutenant's affair.
They couldn't go on.
"But we must go on. We've got to fetch some wounded."
"There aren't any wounded," said the lieutenant.
Charlotte had an inspiration. "You tell us that tale every time," she said, "and there are always wounded."
The Belgian guide and the lieutenant exchanged glances.
"I've told you there aren't any," the lieutenant said. "You must go back."
"Here—You explain."
But instead of explaining the little Belgian backed up the lieutenant by a refusal on his own part to go on.
"He can please himself. We're going on."
"You don't imagine," Charlotte said, "by any chance that we're afraid?"