Читать книгу Tom Burnaby - George Herbert Ely - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Lake Mazingo--Tom's Talisman--Scenes on the March--In Sight--Tom Surprises the Doctor--Imubinga

Tom woke with the dawn, feeling anything but well. His head was aching violently; he was reluctant to move; and when at last he threw off his rug and raised himself on his elbow, his head swam and he shivered. A clammy mist lay thick upon the surface of the lake, completely hiding everything beyond a radius of a dozen yards. The water smelt abominably, reminding Tom so strongly of the Clyde at its worst that he said to himself: "I declare I am homesick!" and laughed at the new application of the word.

"It looks very much," he thought, "as though I'm in for a spell of fever. But I simply can't afford time to be ill. Wish this wretched mist would clear away, so that I could see whereabouts we are."

At this moment Mbutu came up from the other end of the canoe. He held out a small paper packet to his master, who took it and opened it before his dazed recollection was fully awake.

"Ah! cinchona, that blessed bark!" he exclaimed, when he saw the white powder. "I remember the padre gave us some to put among our baggage. Thanks, Mbutu! you're a clever fellow to guess so readily what is wrong with me. Well, here goes; out of the bitter" (he swallowed the drug) "shall come forth the sweet, and let's hope I'll soon be as strong as Samson himself. And look! there's the sun struggling through this detestable wet blanket. The mist will soon be gone, and then we must make a start."

"Berrah well, sah," said Mbutu. "Me sleepy too much, sah."

"Sleepy, are you? How's that? I slept as sound as that fellow--what was his name?--who snored for a hundred years. What!" (as an idea struck him) "you don't mean to say you've been watching all night?"

"Oh yes, sah! Sah berrah sleepy; dem black man no good; me tink about croc'dile. Uncle, sah, go by-by in canoe all same too much; leg trickle ober side, sah; croc'dile berrah hungry; come 'long, 'long; no nize, sah; him--"

Mbutu's only story was interrupted at this point by a howl from one of the crew. Expecting to see at least a leg or an arm less among them, Tom started up. What he actually saw was the howling native lying face upwards at full length along the bottom of the canoe, and his three mates walking solemnly over him, kneading him with their feet, a look of solemn determination imprinted on their features. What most astonished Tom was that, though the prostrate man still yelled, he appeared to like the performance, and rolled his eyes gratefully at his perambulating friends.

"What--what on earth are they doing?" laughed Tom.

"Him sick too much in tummick, sah," said Mbutu gravely. "Too much cheese, sah. Better next time soon."

"Is that their cure for dyspepsia, then? I must tell Dr. Corney about this. What a fine poster it would make for advertising somebody's pills! As the howls have stopped, I suppose the poor fellow is better?"

"Berrah well now, sah. Him no eat cheese not much no more. Cheese too much nice."

Tom laughed. The sun was rapidly dispersing the mist, which rolled back like a circular curtain. The surface of the lake was clear for half a mile round, though clear was after all not the word for it, papyrus sticking up thickly in all directions. Tom felt again rather depressed as he scanned the dismal prospect, but did his best to shake off the weight. Unable to eat anything himself, he ordered his men to have their breakfast and prepare to start.

The whole of that day was occupied in paddling down the lake. Tom could hardly endure the slowness of their progress. The crew would paddle for half a mile, then find the canoe entangled in a maze of subaqueous creepers, and have to try back for twenty yards or so and look for another passage. Once, going at a fair pace, it embedded itself in a submerged bank of black mud, and all its occupants had to jump overboard, and partly by heaving, partly by loosening the mud with the axes, free the craft from the obstruction. Then, as the afternoon wore on, mosquitoes and ticks innumerable buzzed about their heads. The natives paid little heed to these importunate visitors, but Tom's face, neck, and arms were stung in scores of places, and he suffered almost intolerable torture. He found some mental relief in opening on his knees the writing-case given him by Mr. Barkworth, and penning an account of his adventures, intending to send the letter by one of the crew on their return journey. In course of time they came opposite a small native village on the lake-side, and Mbutu, with Tom's permission, leapt overboard and waded to the shore. He returned in about half an hour carrying a closely-woven straw basket, which he handed to Tom.

"Drink, sah, fust; berrah well. Next time, rub hands and face, so; berrah well. Berrah nice, sah; hurt all go too soon."

Tom saw that the basket was half-full of delicious new milk. He drank more gratefully than ever in his life before, then washed his face and arms in what was left.

About five o'clock they reached a point which the natives declared was the southern extremity of the lake, and beyond which they had been forbidden by their chief to go. Tom heaved a sigh of relief.

"There is an hour before sundown," he said. "We ought to be able to find a native hut or two by that time--eh, Mbutu?"

"Sure nuff, sah."

"The first thing is to get ashore. The water is not deep enough for us to pull in, and the bottom seems nothing but mud."

"All same, sah; me know all 'bout it, sah."

Fixing his keen eyes on the water around, Mbutu picked out the direction in which the depth of water was greatest and the reeds thinnest, and under his guidance the Baganda gently paddled the canoe to within thirty yards of the shore.

"Stop dis place," he said at last. "Sah say by-by to black man; black man go home now; home to pickin."

Tom got out his rolls of calico and packets of beads, and gravely cut off from the one and counted out from the other the stipulated quantities, which he handed to the crew, adding a present to each, and an extra douceur to the head-man and the poor fellow injured the day before. He then made them a speech, thanking them in the King's name for the service they had done the British Empire in general and Major John Burnaby in particular, Mbutu translating very freely, and at considerable length, into the vernacular. Finally he handed his letter to the head-man, telling him that Mr. Barkworth would give him a handsome present when he delivered it. Then he went over the side, Mbutu following with the baggage.

It was past six o'clock, and almost without warning the sun sank down upon their right, and everything was dark. Mbutu led the way over the swampy soil, his master following gingerly at the distance of about a yard, just able to discern his black form. After ten minutes' walking they felt the ground gradually becoming drier, and half an hour later they found themselves treading a turf that reminded Tom of the Berkshire downs. He asked Mbutu what plan he had formed. The boy replied that he had none, except to find a village where they might rest in safety for the night. He added that he was beginning to be afraid of snakes, and hinted that a lion or two might happen to be prowling abroad.

"Me want see light, sah," he said.

At length, after they had been walking for an hour and a half, he gleefully exclaimed that he saw a twinkle ahead. Fifteen minutes later the pedestrians came to a sort of guard-house gateway, built of mud and wattles, across a narrow path. They passed through it, and found themselves in the single street of a village lined with grass huts on each side, one of these, somewhat larger than the rest, having a fire in it, the glow of which Mbutu had seen through the door-hole. The inhabitants appeared to be asleep; there was no sound save the faint baa of a goat in the compound beyond, and the melancholy night moo of a cow. Signing to his master to stop, Mbutu put down his little load, found a strip of calico and a bracelet of beads, and uttered a curious cry, between the call of a hyena and the howl of a wolf. In an instant, as it seemed, the two strangers were surrounded by a ring of natives, who in their haste had snatched up as weapons whatever came first to hand. Torches were soon on the scene, and by their light the amazed natives saw the disturbers of their repose: a tall white man, nearly six feet high, young, broad-shouldered, with thin, hairless face--thinned even by the anxieties of the last few days,--keen blue eyes, and firm lips; and a Muhima, some eight inches shorter than his master, his thick lips and woolly hair proclaiming his negro blood, but his eyes and brow and arched nose bespeaking a strain derived from a far-distant Egyptian ancestry. Englishman and Muhima, each with race marked in every line of his figure, stood facing the wondering villagers unflinchingly.

Then Mbutu began to explain, and Tom stood patiently for an hour while his follower lauded him to the skies, claimed for him qualities and connections of the most exalted nobility, and demanded hospitality from the villagers in the name of the Great White King. They were visibly impressed, and talked away energetically among themselves. Then the chief came forward and said that he knew the servants of the Great White King were good brothers of his; he had seen some of them only the day before; but how was he to be sure that his white visitor was not one of the Wa-daki, whom he hated as he hated snakes and leopards? Tom was at first at a loss how to convince the chief of his British nationality. Suddenly bethinking himself, he took out his pocket-book, in which he had a few postage-stamps. He tore off one, and showed it to the negro. When Mbutu explained that the head on the stamp was the head of the Great White King, the chief was delighted; still more when Tom, wetting it, solemnly affixed it to his black arm. After that the enraptured chief announced that his own hut was freely at the disposition of the white man.

Tom's host was a villainous-looking savage, but he proved most hospitable. His hut contained nothing but a hard plank raised on short pegs from the earthen floor, a broken box, a small fire, and a general supply of insects. Mbutu explained that his master, whom he called his great chief, was tired and wished to sleep, but that first he must have a meal, and would purchase a young fowl. That was instantly forthcoming, and in a few minutes Mbutu had prepared an excellent supper of grilled chicken, unleavened millet-cakes, and tea unsweetened, but qualified with cow's milk.

On the following morning Tom sent Mbutu to summon the chief to a palaver. That solemn function lasted for two hours, and Tom was on thorns till it was over. The talking was mainly between Mbutu and the chief, and Tom was amazed that so much eloquence had to be expended in giving and receiving so little information. All that he learnt was that the expedition had passed within a couple of miles of the village soon after sunrise on the previous day, and that it was proceeding due west, to punish the Arabs and the Manyema. The chief was very emphatic on this point; he declared that the Arabs and their allies deserved all they would get, for they had made themselves a terror for miles round, treating the natives with frightful cruelty, lopping off hands and feet, slitting noses, killing outright, sometimes in wanton devilry, sometimes as punishment for trivial offences. The expedition had bought a few sheep and goats, and paid for them, but "not nuff", as Mbutu interpreted to his master, adding, however, that no native chief would ever admit himself satisfied: "black chief all same for one".

Tom was delighted to hear that his uncle was only a day's march in front of him. Discovering that the route lay for miles over grass country, gradually rising until it entered a mountainous region, he inferred that the British force would now be moving at a slow rate, which increased his chances of overtaking it soon. With a march overland before him, he felt the advisability of having a weapon of some sort in case of emergency, and asked the chief through Mbutu if he had a rifle to sell. The chief produced a very old and rusty weapon, with some cartridges, and Tom grimaced when, on trying a shot, he found himself thrown backward by the unexpected force of its kick. He accepted it in default of a better, and left Mbutu to settle the price.

It was past ten o'clock when the two travellers, amid the friendly farewells of the whole village, set off on their march. Tom guessed that the expedition, being rather more than twenty-four hours ahead of them, was at this time some twenty-five miles away, and he hoped with good luck to decrease that lead very considerably before nightfall. Mbutu's load, diminished by the quantities of calico and beads already parted with, was now much lighter than when he started, so that, though shorter, he found himself quite able to keep up with Tom, who set off with an easy stride.

After about half an hour's walking, they struck into the track of the expedition. It was a path not more than a foot wide, which in some parts evidently followed a previous native track, in other parts had been trodden for the first time by the advancing force. Tom was surprised to find it so narrow, until informed by Mbutu that in Africa native troops almost invariably kept single file while on the march. The path led over rolling grassy downs, clumps of bracken and bramble here and there giving them a very home-like appearance. In one place, indeed, Tom was delighted to see a few daisies growing; he stooped and picked one, smiling, as he stuck it in his coat, to think of the thousands of daisies he had trampled under foot at home without even a passing thought. Large trees were few and far between on the savannah, but one, which he had never seen before, seemed to Tom extraordinarily graceful--a long, straight, even stem, with a cluster of strange fronds spreading fan-like from its top.

The path led across streams of clear sparkling water, in which, as the sun grew hotter, Tom was glad to bathe his face and feet, and occasionally to drink. The banks of every stream of considerable size were clothed with luxuriant vegetation, palms, acacias, lianas growing thickly together, with tall grass, wild bananas, and flowering creepers which made a dazzling and beautiful picture. Crimson butterflies darted hither and thither among the foliage. "How Jenks would revel in this on a Saturday afternoon!" thought Tom, and was reminded that he had lost count of the days. He opened his pocket-diary, and by tracing back his recent adventures found that it was Saturday, the 8th of June. "And to-morrow's Uncle Jack's birthday!" he remembered. "Well, I've no present for him--except myself, and I don't suppose" (the thought was accompanied by a rueful smile) "he'll be overglad to see me--at least at first."

He was at this moment entering a patch of forest on the edge of a stream, and Mbutu pointed out some deep scratches on the grayish boles.

"What are they?" asked Tom. "They remind me of the scratches on the legs of the table in my father's study, and our old cat--heavens, how long it seems since I saw them!"

"Leopards did 'em, sah! When dey catch us dey eat us."

"Really! Then they mustn't catch us, that's all."

Just as the words were out of his mouth, a terrific crash to the left made him jump and stand watchfully bent forward with his loaded rifle. He peered into the dense mass of foliage, but saw nothing.

"No leopard, sah; leopard no make nize."

"What is it, then?"

"Dere he are, sah! Dat him! Big amalua, sah!"

They had just reached the water's edge. Away to the left, sousing himself in the running stream, they saw a splendid elephant, with gleaming tusks that would have brought joy to a hunter's soul. Tom would have tried a shot, if he had not already proved that his rifle was hopelessly antiquated and short-ranged, and with his present responsibility he did not feel justified in running any avoidable risks. He sighed, and passed on, over a bridge of tree-trunks cleverly bound together by ropes made of papyrus and creepers. It had evidently been slightly repaired for the passage of the British force, some of the plant-ropes looking fresh and new.

On the other side of the stream came another stretch of fairly level country, with short, straw-coloured grass, interrupted here and there by a swamp. By half-past five Tom calculated that they had covered no more than twenty miles, and he was uncomfortably conscious of his want of training. He had a drawn, burning sensation at the ball of his left foot, and felt pretty sure that he would find there the making of a blister. Luckily, just before sundown they came to a banana plantation, amid which, on a knoll, stood a very neat and tidy-looking hut. It happened to be empty, and Tom thought it no wrong to the absent owner to make it his quarters for the night. There were a few rough clay utensils in it, and Mbutu, fetching water from the brook which ran round the base of the knoll, soon made some tea, which, with bananas cut fresh, millet cakes, and oatmeal biscuits, furnished a satisfactory supper. Tom bathed his feet, and at Mbutu's suggestion covered them with a compress of bananas. In the morning he found, rather to his surprise, that this novel application had been most beneficial. It was only one of the hundred uses to which, as he learnt by degrees afterwards, the natives put the plant: its pulp made flour and beer, spirits and soap; its rind made plates and dishes and napkins; while its stalks provided pipes, and even material for footbridges.

Next day they started at sunrise. Walking was more arduous than it had been on the previous day, for the ground rose gradually, becoming more and more rocky, cut at intervals by ravines, and showing here and there fragments of what Tom believed must be lava. The soil was in truth volcanic; not very many miles to the south of their path stood two volcanoes still moderately active, and but a few miles north there were mountain lakes lying hidden in the craters of volcanoes long extinct. Tom knew nothing of these, however; he was only concerned with the hard fact that walking was unpleasant, and that over the rocky ground the track of the expedition was sometimes difficult to discover. The one consolation was that, slow as their own progress was, the progress of the expedition, as the Zanzibari porters carried their loads over ravine and boulder, must necessarily be slower. Foot-sore, aching in every limb, he nevertheless pressed on indomitably, hoping against hope that he might overtake his uncle before night. But though he anxiously looked ahead through his field-glass, he saw nothing but broken, rocky country, and at five miles' distance his view was interrupted altogether by a rugged line of hills.

The sun went down in crimson splendour. There was no hut on this occasion to afford sleeping room to the weary travellers. Building a fire with some wood from a scanty copse on the bank of a ravine, they found a shelter hard by among the rocks, and slept in their rugs. Up again at day-break, they pushed on, and were pleased to find, on reaching the range of hills before mentioned, that the ground there sloped gradually downwards, and the path led once more into a grassy plain. Just before noon, after crossing a bridge, evidently new, thrown over a wider stream than any they had yet encountered, and walking up a steep grassy acclivity, Tom raised his glass to his eyes, and uttered an exclamation of thankfulness and joy.

"There they are, Mbutu!" he cried. "I see them! It must be the expedition. It's just like a long snake winding through a broad defile over there. Look! Now isn't it?"

Mbutu peered long and earnestly into the distance.

"Right, sah! I see dem big black man. Dey plenty big, plenty strong. Soon be dar, sah; see sah him uncle."

Tom stopped short.

"Look here, Mbutu," he said, "an idea has just struck me. You mustn't be seen at first. If that scamp of a guide sees you, he will suspect something, and our long journey may be thrown away. I must go on first. He doesn't know me."

"Berrah well, sah; all same for one."

"You're not afraid, are you? I shouldn't like a wild animal to run off with my katikiro."

Mbutu grinned.

"No 'fraid dis time, sah. Sah him uncle drive all wild beast away; all dat nize, sah; wild beast no like nize; make him tummick bad too much, sah."

"Well, I needn't leave you yet. They're still about five miles ahead, I should think, and they're almost over the hill-top now. When we get within sight of the rear-guard again, I'll go on, and you must keep in touch till you're sent for."

Tom's feet by this time were giving him torture. He felt horribly fagged, and, realizing how hungry he was, he sighed, above all things in the world, for a juicy steak and a jug of shandy-gaff, such as used to await the school fifteen after a hard house match. "But I'm not going to give in at the death," he said to himself doggedly. "And I should think another couple of hours would do it."

He crossed the hill, and saw the tail-end of the force not more than two miles ahead, just passing into a clump of trees, on the near side of which were two or three native huts.

"That's where you must stay, Mbutu. It's about four o'clock now, so the force will be camping very soon, and we shan't be far ahead of you. Now, I'm going on. Good-bye for the present; I fancy you'll see me again after dark."

"All right, sah; so long!" The slang sounded strange in the mouth of a Muhima, and Tom's lips twitched with amusement as he turned his back.

Forty minutes later, as he was walking as fast as his sore feet allowed through a stretch of thin forest, he was halted by the bayonet of a Soudanese sergeant, who looked at him with amazement.

"All right, sergeant; I'm Major Burnaby's nephew. You can let me through."

The Soudanese happened to be one of the draft picked up at Entebbe, and thus had not seen Tom before. He seemed too much surprised to think. The stranger was unmistakeably an Englishman, however, and he could not be going very far wrong if he sent him under guard to the major. Calling two of his men, he instructed them to lead Tom between them to the commanding officer, who was superintending the formation of a camp about a mile ahead.

Tom limped along, feeling now too much excited, as well as exhausted, to attempt any conversation with his escort. Two minutes after leaving the sergeant, he heard a familiar voice before him.

"There now, more comfortable now, aren't ye? Just take care you don't go putting your foot on a thorn again. Bedad, it's you scoundhrels of porters that get more out of the R.A.M.C. than the soldiers at all, at all. Now just be after minding your toes, ye spalpeen."

Dr. Corney O'Brien had just extracted a thorn from a Zanzibari's foot, when he looked up and caught sight of Tom.

"By all the holy powers!" he exclaimed. "It's you!"

"Yes--it's myself, doctor," said Tom, with a feeble attempt to smile.

"'Pon my soul, I thought it was your ghost!" gasped the doctor. "Ah, faith, won't the major be pleased! I wouldn't be in your shoes for-- But, save us, the lad's dead-beat."

Excitement even more than fatigue had overcome Tom's nerve at last; but for the support of the two Soudanese he would have fallen. Quick as thought the little doctor whipped out a flask and poured a few drops of brandy between his lips.

"Now you fellows," he called to the Soudanese, "just rig up a litter. Come, look alive! Half a minute by my watch, no more!"

The stalwart soldiers, in less than the time specified, had improvised a litter out of their rifles and a couple of coats.

"Now, my dear bhoy, we will hear Ould Blazes' remarks in ten minutes. Gently, now."

"But, Doctor, really I can't go into camp in a litter," said Tom, whose fainting fit had lasted but a few seconds.

"Can't ye, bedad? You can't go any other way, nor you shan't if you can. Sure an' you're as thin's a lath; no wonder the leopards and lions and all the other wild cratures let ye through! No, ye're not to talk at all; I'll do the talking; just lie quiet and ride into camp in state. Ah, but the major's face'll be a sight to see--bedad it will! I wouldn't miss it for wurrulds."

He had assisted Tom gently into the litter slung between the two stolid Soudanese; and thus, with a sense of peace and comfort for all his weariness, the wanderer was ushered into the presence of his uncle.

"Hullo, Corney!" shouted the major, as he caught sight of the litter, his jolly voice sounding the very keynote of cheerfulness, and sending a thrill through Tom's soul. "Hullo, Corney! another of your pet malingerers, eh?"

"Not this time. This fellow--would ye believe it?--won't admit there's anything wrong with 'm. Better prepare for a shock, old man. I've not asked 'm yet what 'tis that's brought 'm here, but--

"Good heavens, it's Tom!" cried the major in amazement, which speedily blazed into wrath. "Well, of all the confounded, impudent, disob--"

"Hould yer whisht!" interrupted the doctor. "Do ye not see the lad's dead-beat entirely! The blazes 'll keep. Really, Major, there's something at the bottom of this, or he would not be here. He needs some food first thing; you've got your tent up, I see. Well then, I'll get Saladin to make some Liebig, and when I've had my innings with the bhoy--well, blaze away if you must."

The major said no more. His tent was pitched in the centre of a thorn zariba a hundred and twenty yards square, and the men were busily engaged in running up grass huts and entrenching the camp. Tom was carried to the tent, where in a very short time the energetic little doctor had a steaming bowl of beef-tea, some substantial biscuits, and a bottle of burgundy ready for him. He ought, after his meal, said the doctor, to go to sleep, but Tom declared he could not rest until he had explained his presence, and the doctor gave way, being indeed not a little curious to hear Tom's story. He therefore fetched the major, who was indefatigable in his personal superintendence of the camping arrangements, and, with a private hint to him not to be peppery, brought him into the tent.

They listened attentively as Tom told how Mbutu had come to him on the night of the starting of the expedition, and, on learning that Tom was the major's nephew, had reported the conversation he had overheard; and how he had come with the boy on the padre's launch to the mouth of the Ruezi, and thence by canoe and overland. The major was at first inclined to pooh-pooh the story altogether, but when the doctor pointed out that unless there was some truth in it, the Portuguese would have had no object in pursuing Tom so hotly, he looked grave, and tugged at the ends of his moustache.

"But he had other grounds for annoyance. Nobody likes to be knocked down--and certainly not a Portuguese. But where's that boy of yours, by the by? I will see him myself."

"I told him to wait a couple of miles out, so as not to be seen by your guide," replied Tom.

"Quite right; but it's dark now. I'll send a couple of men to bring him in. We must see how this remarkable story squares with present circumstances."

The major returned rather more than an hour later. "Hasn't that black boy turned up yet?" he asked.

"Give'm time," answered the doctor. "'Tis two miles out and two miles in, remember."

"Well, he won't be long now. By the way, Tom, what race does he belong to?--Banyoro, Baganda, or what?"

"He's a Bahima," replied Tom.

"Muhima," corrected the major, "Muhima for the individual. His people the Bahima are the aristocrats of the country! They've degenerated through mixing with the negroes, but I've no doubt they really are far-away descendants of the ancient Egyptians. Here he is!" added the major, as Mbutu was pushed into the tent by the orderly. "Well, my boy, don't be afraid of me; I'm your master's uncle. Just come and tell me all about it."

Mbutu told the story in his long-winded stumbling way, the major listening attentively, and helping him when he stuck for a word.

"Well now, did you hear those two men mention any place in the course of their talk?"

Mbutu thought for a moment.

"Imubinga, sah!" he said at last. "I know dat. Imubinga! Oh yes!"

"Imubinga! Corney, that's the place, you remember, where the guide said we should camp to-morrow; the inhabitants are likely to have a good supply of food, he said, and that's a blessing in such a sparsely-populated district. This begins to look more serious. I'll send scouts forward first thing in the morning to see if the guide's information is correct so far as it goes. Imubinga, you remember he told us, is in a plain on the far side of a range of hills, got at through a long defile of six miles or so. If that turns out correct, depend upon it this precious ambush will be laid somewhere about the end of the defile. Ambush, indeed! What do they take me for! Still, you never know; we'll be on the safe side."

"Hungry, boy?" asked the doctor, turning to Mbutu.

"No, sah," replied Mbutu promptly. "Berrah nice chicken in pot, sah. Big black soldier gib some. Oh yes!"

"Well," said the major with a smile, "you'll stay in my tent to-night, and understand you are not to go out without leave. The guide must not see you. Why, Corney, Tom's asleep. Did you doctor his wine, eh?"

"Just the least touch in his second glass. 'Twill do the boy good. Sure 'tis sleep he wants."

"D'you know, Corney, I'm proud of this nephew of mine."

"An' ye ought to be, ye ould martinet."

"You wouldn't have me tell him so to his face, would you? Well now, I'll go and see Lister about the scouts; may as well send Mumford in charge, don't you think? And then I must stop the men's jabber; they'll cackle till two in the morning if I don't."

"Faith, 'tis time I turned in myself. Good-night, Major!"

Major Burnaby arranged with Captain Lister for the despatch of a scouting-party at daybreak under Lieutenant Mumford. Then he made a round of the camp to see that the watch-fires were alight and the sentries properly posted. Finding that the men had finished their supper, he sternly bade them stop talking and go to sleep. Soon the clacking of nine hundred tongues ceased, and the camp lay all peaceful beneath the rising moon.