"There is a meaning in it all, father says. They have lost so many men that they have determined to starve us out," Phra said one morning to his companion.
"Yes; so my father thinks," replied Harry; "or else it is that they are waiting for reinforcements."
"I don't think they would have to wait," replied Phra. "No; depend upon it, they think we shall give up soon, and lay down our arms."
"So that they may march in and jump upon us, and then cut off our heads?"
Phra's face looked quite old with wrinkles as he gave his companion a sombre look, and then nodded.
"Perhaps they would be content, and let you English people off, if you gave up my father and his faithful friends."
"And you with them?" said Harry gravely.
"Of course."
"Can't spare you, old chap. Bah! What are you talking about? If they think anything of that sort, they are more stupid than I thought for. Give up? They don't know what English people are yet. Why, Phra, we shall go on fighting till all the provisions are done, and then we shall make a fresh start."
"How?"