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Updated: June 3, 2025
Gradually his taciturnity diminished, until he developed into a fairly communicative individual and was generally popular with the Mess. During the stay in camp at Kilwa Wilmshurst, Danvers, Spofforth and Laxdale snatched the opportunity of going on a lion-hunting expedition, MacGregor on their invitation accompanying them.
That means the Devil, you know." "And was he the Devil?" "No, Dimples, no. They called him that because he did such wonderful things with the ball." "Can the Devil do wonderful things with a ball?" Daddy felt that he was propagating devil-worship and hastened to get to safer ground. "Spofforth taught us how to bowl and Blackham taught us how to keep wicket.
"I felt like it once." "Simply had to stroll over and have a palaver with you," continued Spofforth. "I was afraid that my men would spot my hands trembling. Hope the Boches are standing. Hang it all! Why did nature let me grow to this height?" Spofforth was laughing now. The mental tension of the seemingly interminable wait was over. "Two minutes more hop it, old man," cautioned Wilmshurst.
"He's yapping quite enough as it is," rejoined Wilmshurst. "Hanged if we can hear anything with that noise. I hope you fellows are keeping on the alert?" "MacGregor's doing that," replied Danvers, indicating the silent form of the Rhodesian, as he stood motionless as a statue, with his rifle ready for instant use. "Hear anything, MacGregor?" enquired Spofforth. The man shook his head.
In the course of the evening we rejoined our party on the Moore River. Next day we halted at Kadjelup; and on the 19th we separated at Neergabby once more, Mr. Spofforth to conduct the remainder of the party home with as much celerity as they could travel, whilst I proceeded with Kinchela and Warrup to examine the coast from the mouth of the Moore River for any traces of Mr.
Wilmshurst, picking up his revolver and reloading it, looked around for his brother subalterns. There was big Jock Spofforth in the act of putting a first-aid dressing round a bullet wound in Danvers' arm, while Laxdale was sitting on the ground and nursing his left foot. There was no time to make enquiries just then.
"You've been lucky already, I hear? Where's that MacGregor chap? Is he still with the battalion?" Briefly Dudley explained what had happened. "Skunk," muttered Spofforth. "So we've been taking a dirty Hun under our wing, so to speak. I don't mind admitting now that I didn't think much of the blighter when he pushed off and promptly fainted."
Spofforth, a Methodist minister was induced to hold a public discussion with me on the subject, and as he was not well acquainted either with his own side of the question or the other, he was soon embarrassed and confounded, and obliged to retire from the contest.
"But I scooted, too," interrupted Laxdale, "and left you to tackle the lioness." "I also plead guilty," added Danvers. "But with this difference," rejoined Spofforth: "you were unarmed and he had a rifle. Ah, well; you fellows have stolen a march on me, and I've a lot of leeway to make up. When do we move against M'ganga?" "As soon as we are in touch with the Indian crush," replied Danvers.
"It's my tunic, remember," protested Dudley firmly as he pushed his brother-officer aside. Just then the door opened, and Spofforth, another member of the "Lone Star Crush" appeared, enquiring, "What's all the row about, you fellows? Scrapping?" "Shut that door!" exclaimed Laxdale hurriedly. "Either in or out, old man."
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