Charge! Part 54

"Well, I say I am, just by way of argument. It's all wrong, and I've been lying here and thinking out the reason. I've got it."

"I got it without any thinking out at all," I said.

"Don't talk so, private. Listen. Now, look here, it's all Duncombe's fault."

"That we're alive?" I said.

"Pooh! Nonsense! It's that anti-febrile tonic, as he calls it. It's my firm belief that he hadn't the right sort of medicine with him, and he has fudged up something to make shift with."

"What nonsense!" I said.

"It's a fact, sir, and I'll prove it. Now then, where are we hurt?"

"Our heads princ.i.p.ally, of course."

"That's right, my boy. Then oughtn't he to have given us something that would have gone straight to our heads?"

"I don't know," I said wearily.

"Yes, you do, stupid; I'm telling you. He ought to have given us something that affected our heads, instead of which he has given us physic that has gone to our legs. Now, don't deny it, for I watched you only this morning, and yours doubled up as badly as mine did. You looked just like a young nipper learning to walk."

I laughed slightly.

"No, no, don't do that," cried my companion in misfortune.

"You were wishing just now that you could make me laugh," I said, by way of protest.

"Yes, old chap; but I didn't know then what the consequences would be. It makes you look awful. I say, don't do it again, or I shall grow horribly low-spirited. You did get knocked about. I say, though, do I look as bad as you do?"

"I believe you look ten times worse," I said, trying to be cheerful and to do something in the way of retort.

"No, no; but seriously, do I look very bad?"

"Awfully!" I said.

"Oh, I say! Come, now, how do I look?"

"Well, there's all the skin off your nose, where you scratched against the rock."

"Yees," he said, patting his nose tenderly; "but it's scaling over nicely. I say, what a good job I didn't break the bridge!"

"It was indeed," I said.

"Well, what else?"

"Your eyes look as if you'd been having a big fight with the bully of the school."

"Are they still so very much swollen up?"

"More than ever," I said, in comforting tones.

"But they're not black?"

"No; only purple and yellow and green."

"Val," he cried pa.s.sionately, "if you go on like that I'll sit up and punch your head."

"You can't," I replied.

"No, you coward! Oh, if I only could! It's taking a mean advantage of a fellow. But never mind; I'm going to hear it all. What else?"

"I won't tell you any more," I replied.

"You shall. Tell me at once."

"You don't want to know about that place on the top of your head, just above your forehead, where you are so fond of parting your hair?"

"Yes, I do. I say, does it look so very bad?"

"Shocking. He has crossed the strips of sticking-plaster over and over, and across and across, till it looks just like a white star."

"Oh dear," he groaned, "how horrid! I say, though, has he cut the hair in front very short?"

"Well, not so short as he could have done it with a razor."

"Val!" he shouted. "It's too bad."

"Yes," I said; "it looks dreadful."

"No, I mean of you; and if you go on like that again we shall quarrel."

"Let's change the conversation, then," I said. "I say, oughtn't old Briggs to have been here by now?"

"I don't know; but you oughtn't to give a poor weak fellow such a slanging as that."

"I say," I said, "you wished we were up the veldt shooting lions."

"So I do," replied Denham. "Don't you?"

"No. I wish you and I were at my home, with old Aunt Jenny to nurse and feed us up with beef-tea and jelly, and eggs beaten up in new milk, and plenty of tea and cream and-"

"Val! Val, old chap! don't-don't," cried Denham; "it's maddening. Why, we should have feather-beds and beautiful clean sheets."

"That we should," I said, with a sigh; "and- Ah! here's old Briggs."

"Morning, gents," said the Sergeant, pulling back the tilt curtain after entering. "Hope you're both better."

"Yes, ever so much, Sergeant," cried Denham. "Here, come and sit down. Light your pipe and smoke."