I don't--dislike Colonel Arran." Berkley was still red; he lay in the grass on his stomach, watching the big cloud pile on the horizon.
"You know," said Casson, "that part of our army stretches as far as that smoke.

We're the rear-guard." "Listen to the guns," said Wye, pretending technical familiarity even at that distance.

"They're big fellows--those Dahlgrens and Columbiads----" "Oh, bosh!" snapped Casson, "you can't tell a howitzer from a rocket!" Wye sat up, thoroughly offended.

"To prove _your_ dense ignorance, you yellow-bellied dragoon, let me ask you a simple question: When a shell is fired toward you _can_ you see it coming ?" "Certainly.

Didn't we see the big shells at Yorktown----" "Wait! When a solid shot is fired, can you see it when it is coming toward you ?" "Certainly----" "No you can't, you ignoramus! You can see a shell coming or going; you can see a solid shot going--never coming from the enemy's guns.
Aw! go soak that bull head of yours and wear a lady-like havelock!" The bickering discussion became general for a moment, then, still disputing, Casson and Wye walked off toward camp, and Stephen and Berkley followed.
"Have you heard from your mother ?" asked the latter, as they sauntered along over the grass.
"Yes, twice.