“The troops are shut up in their barracks,” said McNeice.
“Licked,” said Malcolmson.
“Say,” said Conroy, “are you dead sure you whipped them?”
“They bolted,” said Malcolmson.
“I don’t reckon to be a military expert,” said Conroy, “but it kind of occurs to me that those troops weren’t doing all they knew. I don’t say but you’re quite right to boost your men all you can; but we’ll make a big mistake if we start figuring on having defeated the British army.”
“I happen to know,” I said, “that Mr. Conroy is quite right. Clithering—”
“That spaniel!” said McNeice.
“He told me,” I said, “that the troops had orders to fire over our men’s heads. The idea, I think, was not so much to injure as to overawe us.”
“It was a damned foolish idea,” said McNeice sulkily.