ntented, for the sally-party to follow the Colonel, who was to lead
them himself, did not include "Roberts's lot," as they were termed.

"Fall out, Private Gedge," said Roberts sharply.

"Didn't hear what I said, did he?" muttered the lad, with an anxious
look, for he had been growling at what he called the favouritism served
out to some of the companies in choosing them to go out and have the
first chance of being shot; and this, he told himself, was mutinous.

But he pulled himself together and stood as erect as a ramrod, waiting
for the next order, which came directly:

"Right face; march!"

And he marched after his Captain, with heart beating heavily, and then
sinking deeper and deeper, as he found himself led to the officers'
quarters.

"It's court-martial for a threep'ny-bit," he muttered. "Next thing 'll
be `Disarm!' and all because I wanted to go and fight. Oh! they are
jolly 'ard on us chaps in the ranks."

"Come in, my lad," said Roberts, stooping to enter the low door, and
Gedge's heart went down to its lowest point as he found himself face to
face with Bracy.

"Them two to drop on me!" he thought. "Wouldn't ha' keared if it had
been the Major."

The next moment poor Gedge's heavily plumping heart jumped, as he
afterwards expressed it from his boots right up to his throat.

"Gedge," said Bracy coldly and quietly, "I am going on a very dangerous
mission."

"Oh, sir, please don't go without me!"

"I have sent for you to say that I have selected you for my companion."

"Hoo--beg pardon, sir," cried the lad, turning scarlet.

"No cheering, no nonsense, no boy's tricks, my lad. This is desperate
men's work. I have chosen you to go with me on a journey of many days,
during which we shall suffer terrible hardships."

"That's right, sir; used to it ever since I was--"

"Silence, man!" said Bracy sternly. "We shall go with our lives in our
hands, and probably never get to our journey's end; but we shall have to
try. Now then, if you feel the slightest qualm, speak out honestly, and
I will choose some one else."

"Don't do that, sir, please; but I will speak out honest. I must, when
you axes me to."

"Ah!" cried Bracy.

"I'm strong as a horse again, sir; but sometimes I do get a sorter dig
in the back, just as if a red-hot iron rod were touching up my wound
when the bit o' iron--"

"No, no, man," cried Bracy, laughing. "I mean qualm of dread, or
shrinking about running the risk."

"