ckenson said did not matter
in the least, for during the past few weeks they had been careful to
draw a veil over the food.

But of water, such as needed no filtering, there was ample, ready for
quaffing out of tin mug, silver flask, cup, or horn.

"And the beauty of our tipple now is," said Bob, "that it never does a
fellow the least harm."

It was a favourite remark of his, "an impromptu" that had been much
admired. He made the remark again on this particular evening, but his
tones sounded dismal.

"It's a great blessing, though," he added; "we might have none. Yes,
capital water," he continued, draining his cup and setting it down with
a rap on his part of the board. "Just think, Drew, old man, we might be
forced to sit here drinking bad champagne."

"I don't want to drink bad or good champagne, old fellow," said Lennox;
"but I do wish we had a barrel of good, honest, home-brewed British ale,
with--"

"A brace of well-roasted pheasants between us two--eh?"

"No; I was going to say, a good crusty loaf and a cut off a fine old
Stilton cheese."

"J-Ja!" sighed the next man.

"Never mind, gentlemen," said the colonel; "what we have will do to work
upon. When we've done our work, and get back home, I'll be bound to say
that John Bull will ask us to dinner oftener than will do us good. What
do you say, doctor?"

"What do I say, Colonel Lindley?" cried the doctor, putting down his
flask-cup. "I say this Spartan fare agrees with us all admirably. Look
round the table, and see what splendid condition we are all in. A bit
spare, but brown, wiry, and active as men can be. Never mind the food.
You are all living a real life on the finest air I ever breathed. We
are all pictures of health now; and where I have a wound to deal with it
heals fast--a sure sign that the patient's flesh is in a perfect state."

"It's all very fine," said Bob Dickenson in a low voice to those about
him. "Old Bolus keeps himself up to the mark by taking nips; that's why
he's so well and strong."

"Nonsense!" said Lennox sharply. "I don't believe he ever touches
spirits except as a medicine."

"Who said he did?" growled Dickenson.

"You, Bob; we all heard you," chorused several near.

"Take my oath I never mentioned spirits. I said _nips_."

"Well, you meant them," said Lennox.

"I didn't. Don't you jump at conclusions, Drew, old man. I meant nips
of tonics. Old M.D. has got a lot of curious chemicals in that
medici