Even Hazel seemed to have understood that a really brilliant victory had been achieved; she brought Tinling a magnificent flag of pink glazed calico, on which she had painted in crimson letters: 'Indians' Terror.'
'I did not think of making the motto "Seven at one blow,"' she said, with a mischievous dimple.
'I like the other best,' said the General, unsuspectingly.
Jack and Guy went down to the camp as usual, but for some time they were in very low spirits, in spite of their commander's well-meant efforts to raise them.
'You'll do better next time,' he said kindly.
'But we've told you over and over again how it was!' they would exclaim.
'Yes, I know, I know. It's all right. I'm not complaining: I never expected you to be as cool as I was, your first time.' But even this did not seem to console the army to any large extent; they hunched their shoulders and kicked pebbles about with great apparent interest.
The fact was, they could not help seeing that they had lost their prestige. It was true that their mother and elder sister at least (in spite of the flag) did not seem to treat the past danger with all the seriousness it deserved. It even struck Jack and Guy sometimes that they were under the delusion that the whole thing had been only a new development of the game. But as the General said: 'Even if that were so, it was kinder not to undeceive them. He certainly was contented to leave them in their error; he knew well enough what he had had to go through—he did not like even now to think of his despair when he found he would have to face the danger all alone.'
He was always making the army writhe by little unintentional reminders of this kind, and they had cruel misgivings that Uncle Lambert, though he was always quite kind and encouraging, did not in his heart believe that their unfortunate absence in the hour of peril was quite an accident on their part.
How they longed for an opportunity of wiping out their disgrace, and how their hearts sank when Tinling, from the depths of his experience, declared it very improbable that the attack would ever again be renewed. In the school-stories, the good boy who refuses to fight when he is kicked, and is sent to Coventry as a coward, always gets a speedy chance to clear his character. Someone (generally the very boy who kicked him) falls into a mill-stream, or a convenient horse runs away, or else a mad but considerate bull comes into the playground—and the good boy is always at hand to dive, or hang on to the bridle and be dragged several yards in the dust, or slowly retreat backwards, throwing down first his hat and then his coat to amuse and detain the infuriated bull.