“Magenta again!” sneered Somers, who was heartily sick of that word.
“Yes, at Magenta! If you could only have heard the guns there! Why, there were seven thousand two hundred and forty-six pieces rattling away like mad on our side alone; and I believe the Russians——”
“Russians at Magenta again! I don’t believe you were at the battle of Magenta any more than I was!” exclaimed Somers desperately.
“Do you mean to tell me that I lie?” asked the captain gravely.
“Go on with your story,” said the lieutenant, fearing that he had said too much.
“Answer my question, if you please. You gave me the lie; did you not?”
“No; I didn’t use that word.”
“You said you didn’t believe I was at the battle of Magenta.”
“To be perfectly candid with you, I don’t believe it; but I am tired, and want my supper,” answered Somers, wishing to escape the issue which he had provoked.
“Fair play, my boy. You charged me with lying—indirectly—but not the less offensively on that account. Don’t dodge the question.”