“Well, I calls it bricklaying, sir. You see, I’ve watched him ever so long, sticking stones one above another, ready to shove down all together. I think he means to send ’em down on the squelchy-welchies.”
“The what?” cried Bracy, laughing.
“He means the camels, sir.”
“Oh. Yes, I can see,” continued Bracy. “Looks more like a breastwork.”
Even as he spoke there was a puff of smoke, a dull report, and a sharp spat on the rock close to the young officer’s hand, and he started up, looking a little white, while Sergeant Gee picked up a flattened-out piece of lead.
“Right, sir,” he said; “it is a breastwork, and there’s a couple o’ long barrels sticking out.”
“Let them have it there,” cried Captain Roberts. “They’re opening fire with their jezails.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gedge in a whisper; “we’ve just found that out for ourselves.”
He drew trigger as he spoke, and as the smoke rose and he looked up, loading mechanically the while, he caught sight of a long gun dropping swiftly down, barrel first, to fall close by one of the camels, grunting and moaning as it bore its balanced load along the shelf.
“Mine,” cried Gedge. “I hit the chap as he was looking down. I wants that there long gas-pipe to take home.”