"Why are you like King Duncan's blood on Lady Macbeth's hand, Edwards?" asked Tom Strachan of the last speaker. "I can never guess riddles," said Edwards. "Give it up." "Because you have made the Green one red," said Strachan. "_You_ will never miss the Victoria Cross for want of cheek, at any rate," said Fitzgerald. "I am glad of that," replied Tom, "as I have my plan for it. I mean to stick behind you the first time you go to do anything heroic, and if you get killed I shall hope to get the credit of your action." "So you want me to be knocked on the head, do you, you young villain?" "Not at all, sir; no one can say I would rather have your room than your company." "What _are_ the boys coming to?" cried Fitzgerald. "When I was a sub, I no more dared to speak to my captain like that than to--to walk off parade without permission," he added, after pausing to think what was the highest possible stretch of mortal impudence. "Perhaps your captain had not your appreciation of wit," replied Tom. "Wit, indeed! You call your bad puns wit, do you?" Next day the rest of the troops marched in from Trinkitat, and bivouacked outside the fort. They had made a fair start, and commenced the campaign now, and the novelty of eating their evening meal in the open, by the light of a bonfire, had a charm for some of the young ones. The officers' mess of the First Blankshire was held round an oval trench. A coat thrown on the earth dug out of it served for a seat; the feet were placed in it, and the pewter plate with food on it was held on the knees. This is infinitely more comfortable than feeding in a cramped position on the ground. Though they knew all about it before, it seemed strange to the inexperienced to lie down at night in the open, like animals, instead of going to bed, but some were so tired that, not being on duty, they rolled themselves up in the coats they had been sitting on, and courted a nap directly they had done feeding. Those who did so, however, were presently aroused by a tremendous cheering, which made them jump up, and run to see what had happened. It was the arrival of the Sixty-fifth, who had been stopped on their return from India, and sent to Trinkitat instead of England. They had only landed that afternoon, and had marched on at once. It was not long, however, before the challenge of the sentries, and the snores of sleepers alone broke the silence of the little host, lying stretched in slumber under the faint light of the new moon. Their sleep was disturbed by showers of rain, which interfered with all but the very sound, and even these were fairly roused at last by a regular drencher, the water coming down tropical fashion, in bucketfuls. "Halloa, Green!" said Strachan, to that young hero, whom he found standing in astonishment, drenched, but not dismayed. "Do you believe that it rains sometimes in the Soudan, now?" "I do," replied Green, solemnly. "Books talk nonsense."