Part 27 (2/2)
”Oh, not far--six or seven hundred miles. Get your fellows to work over your packing. Got much to do?”
”No--very little. I could be ready to-night.”
”I say, though, have you ever had that new sword of yours ground?”
”No; I've been meaning to have it done for days.”
”Get it done at once. Here, send one of your fellows for the armourer, so as to catch him before he knows, or he'll be too busy.”
d.i.c.k summoned his servant and sent for the man who acted as armourer in the troop, and the bright new weapon was brought out.
In a very short time the man had received his orders to bring the weapon back in a couple of hours, and he looked inquiringly from one to the other; but, obtaining no information, he went off, and brought the sword back keen of edge and point.
Then Wyatt spoke.
”Heard the news yet, Smith?”
”No, sir; nothing stirring that I know of.”
”Ah, well, you'll get some; so look out.”
Before the man had reached the barrack-yard the news was running from one end of the cantonments to the other; and as the two officers looked out, they saw half-a-dozen men hurrying up to the man who had just quitted them, speaking eagerly, and Wyatt laughed.
”Master Smith has got his work cut out for the next few hours,” he said.
”Never mind, you've had your first go, so you needn't mind.”
”Are you pretty well prepared?” asked d.i.c.k.
”Oh, yes, I'm ready enough. Been expecting the order, you see; and the less one takes on the march the better. There'll be an early parade and inspection, of course.”
”What regiments are going with us?”
”None. The elephant-guns are to follow, but not for a week. We shall have it all our own way, and it will mean promotion, I hope. Perhaps I shall get my troop; and if I do you'll come with me, d.i.c.k?”
”That would mean leaving this troop?” said d.i.c.k, aghast.
”Of course. But you and I would soon make another as smart.”
”Think so?” said d.i.c.k thoughtfully.
”Oh, yes. I don't profess to be clever, but it always seems to me that if two fellows make up their minds to do a thing and stick to it--if it's possible--they'll do it.”
”Yes,” said d.i.c.k still more thoughtfully, ”I suppose so.”
It was late before he lay down to rest that night, for there was more to do in preparations than he had antic.i.p.ated. For instance, there was the letter home, announcing his departure up-country on service--a letter which took a long while to write, and set him thinking, taking, as it did, much of the holiday aspect and excitement out of the coming trip.
For now he began to realise that it meant something more than show. He was going to face the realities of a soldier's life, and the possibilities of his never coming back alive.
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