Never had "Duster's" celebrated home-made
ginger-beer tasted so refreshing as this muddy liquid. Jack sighed in
an ecstasy of enjoyment as he gulped it down, and Joe Crouch remarked
that he wished his throat was as long as a "hostridge's."

A body of three hundred men from the Guards, Heavies, and Mounted
Infantry started on a return journey to the zareba to bring up the
baggage, and the remainder of the force bivouacked near the wells. The
night was fearfully cold; the men had nothing but the thin serge
jumpers which they had worn during the heat of the day to protect them
against the bitter night air. Shivering and gnawed with hunger, Jack,
Joe Crouch, "Swabs," and two more men huddled together in a heap; and
finding it impossible to sleep, endeavoured to stay the cravings of
their empty stomachs with an occasional whiff of tobacco, those who
were without pipes obtaining the loan of one from a more fortunate
comrade. Jack's thoughts wandered back to Brenlands, and he smiled
grimly to himself at the recollection of that first camping-out
experience, and of Queen Mab's words as she promised them a supply of
rugs and cushions, "Perhaps some day you won't be so well off." His
mind was still full of his recent discovery. The thought that his
friends must regard him as guilty of the theft, and the feeling that he
could never give them proof to the contrary, had rankled in his heart
more, perhaps, than he himself suspected; and now that he had at last
discovered a solution to the riddle, and could prove beyond the
possibility of a doubt who was the guilty party, he longed to ease his
soul by talking the matter over with some one who knew the
circumstances of the case. Joe Crouch was the very man.

"Joe."

"Yes."

"You remember my cousin, Raymond Fosberton?"

Joe was not in the best of humours; he was cold, and his pipe had gone
out.

"Yes, I do," he grumbled. "I wish I had him here now in his white
weskit and them shiny boots!" The speaker drew hard at his empty clay,
which gave forth a fierce croak, as though it thoroughly approved of
its owner's sentiments.

"D'you remember that time when the watch was stolen out of Miss
Fenleigh's cupboard?"

"Yes; and that Fosberton said it might 'a been me as took it, and
Master Valentine told me afterwards that you said that though I'd
stolen some pears once, you knew I was honest. Ay, but I thought of
that the morning I seen you come into the barrack-room. And