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Updated: June 17, 2025
"That stuff's no use to me," and he went away grumbling, leaving the bags behind him. McKay followed him out of the store. "You won't take the coffee, then?" "Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such stuff." "May I have it?" "If you like. It's all one to me." "Give me the requisition, then." Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr. Dawber.
I'll go after them in the morning." "It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat officer, as you'll see." Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of professional routine. He had regulations on the brain.
I awaited his return, therefore, before I took any measures for the man's recovery; nor was I without hopes that Dawber would have found him, as it appeared he had taken one of the horses with him, and Dawber, by keeping his tracks, might eventually have overtaken him. He returned, however, about 3 p.m. unsuccessful, when Mr.
Hume reported having crossed a chain of ponds about four miles to the eastward, and out of the immediate precincts of the marshes, I ordered the tents to be struck, and placing Dawber on my horse, we all moved quietly over to them. The result of Mr. Hume's journey perplexed me exceedingly.
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