CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
A FORLORN-HOPE FOR FOOD.
Sergeant Briggs stared, and looked so puzzled that we laughed the more.
"Beg pardon, gentlemen," he said, speaking as if huffed, "have I said something stoopid ?" "Tell him, Val," cried Denham; and I explained why we laughed.
"Oh, I see," he said good-humouredly.

"I thought I was being laughed at.

Well, I don't know, Mr Denham, sir; I don't think the idee's quite so wild as you fancy." "Oh, it's impossible, Sergeant." "No, sir, begging your pardon, it isn't.

It's the cheek of the thing might carry it off.

I like it." "Yes; your mouth waters for the stores, Sergeant." "Maybe, sir; but if I was you I should go straight to the Colonel and tell him." "So as to be laughed at for a fool," said Denham.