“A good headpiece, Dick,” he said. “It has saved your life twice over.”
“Well, Darrell,” said Hulton, who looked very white and faint, “we’ve scattered them, you see, and killed the arch-enemy, who made his final bite.”
“Yes,” said Dick faintly, “we’ve won.”
“How is it with you, my lad? Where’s it to be—one of the wagons with the wounded, or can you mount?”
“Mount,” said Dick shortly. “I’m getting clearer now.”
“Well, Wyatt, what now? The enemy are between us and cantonments. What’s to be done? It seems to me that the fighting has only just begun.”
“Yes; and it seems madness to take the poor boys through those passes. I could see that they had foot there. You look. Try this ‘glass’.”
Hulton stood grazing through the glass for some minutes.
“Yes,” he said, “hundreds; but they are retreating.”
“To where they can throw down stones upon the lads’ heads. What’s to be done?”