A long time afterwards Miller came up to me; he was very excited.
"Listen, sir! Listen! The Cap'en's a-comin'."
I jumped up; it was still pitch dark, and the fog just as thick as ever, and then I heard far away the noise of Maxims—tut-tut-tut-tut, tut-tut-tut-tut.
"Them's Mary and Jane, sir, right enough." Those were the names the men had given the two Maxims which we used to drill on field-gun carriages.
"They've been firin' for the last twenty minutes, sir."
The Captain's coming at last. Hurrah! I couldn't help giving a shout of joy, and ran off to tell Sally, but Mr. Ching had told her a quarter of an hour ago.
"Guess I'm right tired," was all she said to me, and began crying again. I know she had something she wanted to ask me, but didn't like to.
She didn't seem half as pleased as I thought she ought to be; but that didn't worry me at all, and I went round the men who were talking and chattering, and I grinned at them in the dark, and I'm sure that they grinned back. I could have hugged them, they were such fine great fellows, and Mr. Ching squeezed my arm—not the bad one—and said, "We've saved Sally Hobbs all right, Ford."
I was absolutely happy, and felt jolly hungry at the same time.
CHAPTER XIV