The hostile fire gradually slackened, and the garrison were shortly enabled to watch the proceedings of their adversaries. They could see Pir Baksh vainly exhorting the mutineers to make a second attempt. But the sepoys shook their heads. The danger was too great, or why did not Pir Baksh himself lead them, they asked. Their English officers were wont to share the danger with the sepoys, but he, Pir Baksh, was careful to keep out of range whenever he sent them forward. No, they preferred to wait for night, when the risk would be small.
Judging that they would be safe for another hour at least, the two Englishmen ordered food to be prepared. They anticipated that the crisis would come with the sunset, and strength must be kept up.
“What are you grinning at?” asked Tynan, as they sat cross-legged over the meal.
“I was thinking what a rummy go it is,” Ted replied, “that we two of all the officers should be here together. We haven’t been friends, Tynan, but if ever we get out of this hole I hope we will be. And if we don’t get out, I trust we can die without any bad feeling between us. Shake hands on it, old chap.”
Tynan leant forward to meet the proffered hand.
“All right, Russell! I’m agreeable. It ain’t my fault that we’ve not been friends.”
This was not a very gracious speech, and Ted’s ardour was damped. He shook hands, however, saying:
“We must back one another up to-day.”
“Right! But look here, you mustn’t forget that I’m senior officer here. You’ve been giving orders pretty freely.”
“Because you didn’t seem ready with any suggestions.”