"
"Precisely so! And it was by the merest chance that I found out that you
were here. It was only guesswork at the best. A bazaar report reached me
that poor old Stevenor had been cut to pieces. I hate blaming a dead man,
but I really don't know what he can have been about. He made some hideous
mistake somewhere. We buried him yesterday. On hearing the report, I
thought it better to come up myself, having a little knowledge of the
country. Brought two companies, and half a squadron to act as scouts. We
reached Barkoola yesterday, and found the poor chaps as they had fallen.
And some of those carpet-warriors at home say that a black man can't
fight! Can't he! Not so much brandy this time, please. Yes, fill it up."
Agar set the regulation water-bottle down on his gifted table.
"I have the Devil's own luck!" he murmured. "While they were burying I
missed you from among the officers; and then it struck me that you
might have got away before the disaster. We counted the men, and found
thirty-four short, so we came on here.
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