Around them, the fires flared and flamed across the darkness; beyond
them, the veldt stretched away, sinister, mysterious; and from above
the stars twinkled down upon them, smiling a Christmas blessing
alike on those who were doomed to glory and those who were doomed to
death. For an instant, the sudden pause in the singing and laughter
seemed typical of the short, sudden pause in their active lives.
Then, as the Captain rose, the singing broke out once more, Carew's
voice leading.
"Good-night, Weldon. I must go back to my quarters."
"And to your letters?"
"Yes, to my letters. And may next Christmas be good to us both!"
Weldon rose and saluted, then stood looking after his companion as
he walked away, head and shoulders erect and his lips smiling
slightly, as if in anticipation of the task before him. And,
meanwhile, from the fire near by came the lusty chorus,--
"A little brown cot, a shady green spot,
No happier home I find.
My heart's fairly gone, for I love only one,
She's the gi-irl I le-eft behind."
The voices, rollicking even in their sentimentality, dropped away
into silence; the fire flared up and then suddenly died away into
darkness.
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