"I'm commanding the tenth division, sir," answered Godwin, for he it was, a flush rising to his face at the instant recognition.
"Nose seems longer—regular curlew's beak," said Graeme, and passed with a muttered "One good un, anyway." The inspection ended, he returned to the desk, and, perching himself on it, sat there for a moment regarding them.
"Blokes," he said at last, "I don't want ye here, nasty wet day to be out, but you can thank Thomas for that, not me. Still, now that you've come, I'm going to ask you all a conundrum. You know the hat we're in. Uriel's lot of thirty thousand, full of buck after last night's pantomime, in our front fifteen miles away; behind them one hundred thousand under Gabriel—a scorcher, Gabriel, I tell you—and from the west, coming up fast, another eighty thousand under Michael, almost as hot as Gabriel. By to-morrow night we'll have at least two hundred thousand of the best against our scratch lot of a hundred and fifty thousand, that is, if they don't off it before then, which, from what I saw as I came along, seems more than likely. There you have it in the neck, and I hope you like it. Now each of you in turn answer this question—what are we to do? I'll begin with old Archibald there."
"Retreat, sir, to the coast, as quick as we can," was the ready answer.
"Get back to the ships."
"Retire."
"Retire."
"Slip away to-night."
"Have another go at 'em, sir. I can beat last night's lot off my own bat. My men ain't Hearts of Oak, sir."
"Oho! and who are you, my fighting ram?"