"Did they kill the lot?" asked Major Erlton quickly.
"Bungled it rather, but it was all right in the end. They were a plucky set, though; charged to the very middle of the camp, shouting to the black artillery to join them, to come back with them to Delhi."
"But they met with a pluckier lot!" interrupted the man who had suggested turnips. "The black company wasn't ready for action. The white one behind it was; unlimbered, loaded. And the blackies knew it. So they called out to fire--fire at once--fire sharp--fire through them--Well! d----n it all, black or white, I don't care, it's as plucky a thing as has been done yet." He moved away, his hands in his pockets, attempting a whistle; perhaps to hide his trembling lips.
"I agree," said the Doctor gravely, "though it wasn't necessary to take them at their word. But somehow it makes that mistake afterward all the worse."
"How many of the poor beggars were killed, Doctor," asked an uneasy voice in the pause which followed.
"Twenty or so. Grass-cutters and such like. They were hiding in the cemetery from the troopers, who were slashing at everyone, and our men pursuing the party which escaped over the canal bridge--made--made a mistake. And--I'm sorry to say there was a woman----"
"There have been too many mistakes of that sort," said an older voice, breaking the silence. "I wish to God some of us would think a bit. What would our lives be without our servants, who, let us remember, outnumber us by ten to one? If they weren't faithful----"
"Not quite so many, Colonel," remarked the Doctor with a nod of approval. "Twenty families came to the Brigade-major to-day with their bundles, and told him they preferred the quiet of home to the distraction of camp. I don't wonder."
"It is all their own fault," broke in an angry young voice, "why did they----"
And so began one of the arguments, so common in camp, as to the right of revenge pure and simple. Arguments fostered by the newspapers, where, every day, letters appeared from "Spartacus," or "Fiat Justitia," or some such nom de plume. Letters all alike in one thing, that they quoted texts of Scripture. Notably one about a daughter of Babylon and the blessedness of throwing children on stones.