"A few," echoed Jefferson, elevating his eyebrows; "a few, you said."
"Yes," replied Mr. Mole, "only five."
"Not more?" said Jefferson, laughing; "then you must have felt rather bad in the inside."
"Never, sir," said Mole, getting more and more dignified; "but I left the enemy rather unhappy, in the inside and the outside."
"Indeed!"
"This is the only survivor out of five; question him closely."
Mole had carefully ascertained that the wounded Greek didn't speak a solitary word of English.
"Ask him, I say, what I did for his comrades; how I larded them—how I peppered them, and made them cry peccavi. Damme, Jefferson, old boy, you should have seen me in action; gad, sir, I'm like an old war-horse at the first sniff of powder. Down they went, first one, then the other. Hang me! if I didn't play at skittles with' em, and I was in that humour, Harkaway, when you can't miss. I'd just cheek the corner pin and make a royal every go. What do you think of that, Harkaway?"
Old Jack smiled.
"I'm not proficient enough in skittles to appreciate the feat," he answered.