"Kruger Bobs go for doctor?" the boy was urging.
Weldon laughed reassuringly.
"It's nothing, Kruger Bobs. I've no time to fool with doctors now."
"What Boss do?"
"Feed Piggie, eat something, look up Mr. Carew and then get to the
General's tent, inside an hour."
"What for de big boss soldier?"
"He wants me."
"Ya?" Kruger Bobs demanded uneasily.
"To ride a despatch."
"Despatch!" Kruger Bobs exploded in hot wrath. "Kruger Bobs go
despatch; Boss go bed." "Can't do it, Kruger Bobs. This is war, and
I've given my word to the General. It was an order, and I had to do
it." Backing his horse off for a step or two, Kruger Bobs sat
looking at his master and shaking his head mournfully. Then he
straightened in the saddle.
"Boss go; Kruger Bobs go, too," he said, with steady decision.
Less than an hour later, outside the General's tent Kruger Bobs sat
astride The Nig, with the rein of the gray broncho in his hand. The
clouds, since noon banked low in the eastern horizon, had swept up
across the sky, and already the rain was pattering drearily over the
hunched-up shoulders of Kruger Bobs. Inside the tent, the colloquy
was brief.
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