"I am Dennis Deventer's second-in-command," said Jack Jaikes. "I stood the two sieges in command of the machine guns, which I had made myself, and by saying 'No--no' I meant that there were other chiefs besides this one whom you have sent to his account!"
"No doubt," said the officer drily; "the others are up yonder under the walls. We surrounded them while they were blocked by young Deventer's wire entanglements and dazzled by his electric light. But why have you left your fortifications and why----"
He stopped his questions, for just then Rhoda Polly strolled nonchalantly upon the sward. He stood staring at her. Rhoda Polly held out her hand to the young man.
"I am Dennis Deventer's daughter," she said, English, smiling, and frank, "not his only one, but the only one who counts on days like these."
The lieutenant flushed and bowed. He wished the firing party would stand a little closer about a certain square of the green turf. He need not have troubled, Rhoda Polly's mind was a hundred miles from any idea of minute observation at that moment.
"Tiens! The 131st!" she exclaimed. "If you cross the river you must go up and see my father. Your colonel is rather a pet of his!"
At the idea of their fire-eating bristling old colonel being anybody's pet, a smile passed among the rank and file, but the lieutenant being well-mannered remained grave.
"I shall immediately do myself the honour of waiting on your father!"
He marched his men down the hill. Jack Jaikes and his party stepped out on the highway which led to St. André. Only Rhoda Polly and I lingered.