“I say, have you got your mules ready?” It was the voice of the subaltern over his shoulder.
“My man’s looking after them. The—the fact is I’ve a touch of ophthalmia and can’t see very well.
“By Jove! that’s bad. You ought to lie up in hospital for a while. I’ve had a turn of it myself. It’s as bad as being blind.”
“So I find it. When does this armoured train go?”
“At six o’clock. It takes an hour to cover the seven miles.”
“Are the Fuzzies on the rampage—eh?”
“About three nights a week. Fact is I’m in acting command of the night-train. It generally runs back empty to Tanai for the night.”
“Big camp at Tanai, I suppose?”
“Pretty big. It has to feed our desert-column somehow.”
“Is that far off?”