try and feed us
they'd be doing some good.--Yes, all right. Ahoy there!" shouted the
speaker, for a hail came from higher up. "Forward, my lads; forward!"

This last to the men on either side, who had snapped at the chance of a
few minutes' rest, after the fashion displayed by their officers.

The climbing advance went on again till the level patch at the top,
which had been turned into a gun-platform, was reached, and the men
halted in the bright sunshine, to group about the huge gun after they
had been ordered to break off. They rested, enjoying the cool breeze
and gazing eagerly about in search of enemies, seeing, however, nothing
but the surrounding prospect all looking bright and peaceful in the
morning sun.

"`Brayvo! Werry pretty!' as Sam Weller would have said," cried
Dickenson as Captain Roby closed the field-glass he had been using and
joined his junior officers, frowning and looking impatient.

"Look here, Mr Dickenson," he said sourly, "a little of that
commonplace, slangy quotation may be tolerated sometimes after the mess
dinner if it's witty--mind, I say if it's witty--but such language as
this seems to me quite out of place, especially if spoken in the hearing
of the men when on service."

"Yes, of course," replied Dickenson shortly; "but I took care that they
were out of hearing."

"They are not out of hearing, sir," retorted Roby; "as Mr Lennox here
will bear me witness, Sergeant James and Corporal May must have heard
every word."

He turned to Lennox with a questioning look and waited for him to, as he
termed it, bear witness.

"Well, really, I don't think they could have heard," said Lennox.

"What!" cried Roby indignantly. "Here, sergeant, you heard--you,
Corporal May, you heard what Mr Dickenson said?"

"Yes, sir, everything," replied the corporal smartly.

"And you, sergeant?"

"I heard Mr Dickenson saying something, sir," replied the sergeant
bluntly, "but I was looking along the gun here and did not catch a
word."

"You mean you would not hear," cried the captain angrily.--"Look here,
Mr Dickenson, don't let it occur again."

He jerked at the case of his field-glass and took it out again, then
crossed to the other end of the roughly-made gun-platform and directed
the telescope upon some object near the horizon.

The two subalterns exchanged glances.

"Mr Lennox--Mr Dickenson," said the latter in a low tone. "Poor old
chap, he's regularly upset. Well, no wonder; wants