A proposal which called forth a chorus of assenting responses.
While this play of words was in progress along the line of rank and file rearwards, the Colonel and Captain Trevor, at its head, were engaged in a dialogue of conjectures about the same—a brief one.
“What think you it is?” asked Sir Richard, as they sat halted in their saddles regarding the garish light. “It looks to be over Ruardean, or near it.”
“A fire of some kind, Colonel. No common one either.”
“A farmer’s rick?”
“I fear not; would we were sure of its being only that!”
“Ha! A house you think?”
“I do, Sir Richard.”
“And—?”
“The one we’re making for!”