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"Here a message comin' through, boys," announces the Lance-Corporal. "They're in a sair hurry: I doot the officer will be there. Jeams, tak' it doon while Sandy reads it." Mr. James M'Micking seats himself upon a convenient log.
Signal-Sergeant M'Micking tests the instrument, glances over his shoulder, and observes, "Line BX is gone, some place or other. Away you, Duncan, and sorrt it!" Mr.
"All richt; that'll be Haslemere," says Private M'Micking, scribbling down the word. "Go on, Sandy!" Private Wamphray, pausing to expectorate, continues "R-e-c-o-n-n-o-i-t-r Cricky, what a worrd! Let's hae it repeatit." Wamphray flaps his flag vigorously, he knows this particular signal only too well, and the word comes through again. The distant signaller, slowing down a little, continues,
Country has thrown oot flank guns'?" "What does that mean?" inquires M'Micking scornfully. "I dinna ken; but these messages about Generals and sic'-like bodies " At this moment, as ill-luck will have it, the Signal Sergeant appears breasting the hillside. He arrives puffing he has seen twenty years' service and scrutinises the message.
Do you understand?" "Perrfectly, sirr!" replied the Sergeant, outwardly calm. "M'Gurk, do you understand?" M'Gurk looked at Bobby, and then round at Sergeant M'Micking. He received a glance which shrivelled his marrow. The game was up. He grinned sheepishly, and answered, "Yis, sirr!"
Thomas M'Micking of Niagara acted as captain and eight others as lieutenants. A scout preceded the marchers, and at sundown camp was formed in a big triangle with the carts as a stockade, the animals tethered or hobbled inside. Tents were pitched outside with six men doing sentry duty all night. At two in the morning a halloo roused camp.
There was no mistake. This was the Fraser, and it was living up to its reputation. And yet the Overlanders were sorely puzzled. There were no more blazes on the trees to point the way; and, if this was the Fraser, it seemed to flow almost due north. Where was Cariboo? Mr M'Micking, who was acting as captain, tried to find out from the Indians.
"Less talking there!" he announces severely, "or I shall have to stand you all at attention!" There is immediate silence there is nothing the matter with Bobby's discipline and the outraged M'Micking has to content himself with a homicidal glare in the direction of M'Leary, who is now hanging virtuously upon his officer's lips.
A year ago, for instance, you might have encountered an old friend, Private M'Micking, one of the original "Buzzers" of "A" Company, and ultimately Battalion Signal Sergeant under the lee of a pine wood near Hindhead, accompanied by Lance-Corporal Greig and Private Wamphray, regarding with languid interest the frenzied efforts of three of their colleagues to convey a message from a sunny hillside three quarters of a mile away.
"Now, supposing I sent you out scouting, and you discovered that over there somewhere in the middle of this field" he lays a finger on the field in question "there was a fold in the ground where a machine-gun section was concealed: what would you do when you got back?" "I would tell you, sirr," replied Private M'Micking politely. "Tell me what?" "That they was there, sirr." "Where?"
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