A guffaw broke from the soldiers below, and was instantly suppressed. "Yes, sir," said Giles, adding: "Beg pardon, sir, but it’s not breakfast, it’s dinner." Jack laughed. "What! Have I been asleep so long? What’s the time?" "Gone four, sir, and mess is at a quarter past." "Hurry up, then! There’s just time." "Mr. Pomeroy’s been twice to see if you was up, sir, but he wouldn’t let me disturb you. And he said I was on no account to say a word about—" He caught himself up, with a blush that gave his honest round face a very boyish air. "About what?" "I wasn’t to say, sir." "Oh well, cut off and fetch the water! Been fighting any Spaniards lately, Wilkes?" "No such luck, sir. Spaniards or French, it’s all one to me, and what I want to know is—" Jack smiled and shut the window. When he entered the mess-room he found the officers of his regiment already seated, Colonel Beckwith being at the head of the table. "Hullo!" exclaimed Smith, who was opposite the door. His exclamation drew all eyes towards Jack, and as he passed down the table to take the place made for him beside Pomeroy, the subalterns rapped knives and glasses on the unstained deal, and gave a rousing welcome to the wanderer. "Of all the lucky beggars!" said Pomeroy in Jack’s ear, when the general greetings had subsided. "And I can’t even punch your head!" "You’re welcome to try," retorted Jack, "but allow me to get some dinner first. I’ve had nothing but pucheros and gaspachos for days past, and there are heavy arrears to make up." "Well, I don’t want to take advantage of you, though you have played me rather a mean trick." "What do you mean?" "Wine with you, Mr. Lumsden," interjected Colonel Beckwith from the far end of the table; "a good ride, begad!" "Thank you, sir! most happy," said Jack, with a look of mingled pleasure and surprise. After the interchange of compliments, Jack, turning again to Pomeroy, said quietly: "What’s Sidney driving at? I’ve never been honoured in this way since I first joined." "Oh, he’s anxious!" returned Pomeroy carelessly. "Anxious! About what?" "About his job." "How? What?" "’Fraid he’ll be superseded, you know." Jack was so much puzzled by the apparent inconsequence of the reply that he failed to remark the wide grin of amusement which all the subalterns within hearing were vainly endeavouring to dissemble. "He’s trying to carry it off," added Pomeroy. "I say, Smith, what does this lunatic mean?" "What! Haven’t you heard the rumour?" answered Smith. "’What great ones do the less will prattle of,’" quoted Shirley _sotto voce_. "What rumour?" asked Jack, more mystified than ever. "Well, there may be nothing in it, but for my own part I think it’s a shame to promote a raw sub like you over the heads of men like Colonel Beckwith and Captain O’Hare, to say nothing of Pomeroy." Jack, looking somewhat startled, appealed to Captain O’Hare, who was bubbling with amusement. "Are they all mad, sir?"