“And fish in the river.”
“Heaps,” said Wyatt; “monsters sixty and seventy pounds weight. You and I are going to have some shooting and fishing by-and-by, old lad, if we find time. But Hulton’s right.”
“What about?”
“He says we’re in for it.”
“In for what?”
“Who knows? It’s as he says—we’ve got to depend entirely upon ourselves; for, if we have to do any fighting, and the other side’s too strong, we shall have to pull up our boots and tighten our belts.”
“Surely we shall not be in such a position as that?” said Dick.
“Who can tell? Perhaps the Rajah’s chaps haven’t much go in them, and will leave us to do the fighting. There we are. Suppose we send for help; it will take a month for the messenger to get to cantonments, and a month for the help to come, and during that time they could eat us all but our boots.”
“But if things went against us we should have to retire.”
“Retreat, eh? Yes,” said Wyatt thoughtfully; and then he broke out suddenly, to Dick’s amusement, with a capital imitation of the Irishman in the old anecdote, “‘Och, your honner, I’ve tuk a prisiner.’