Chapter Forty Six.
“Hoo-Ray!”
In the midst of the wild bursts of cheering given out again and again by the rescued men, wounded (who were many) and sound (who were very few), to those who had succoured them in their direful time of need—shouts that were echoed and re-echoed by the wearied and weather-worn comrades warmly shaking hands and almost ready to embrace old friends—there were other meetings and heart-stirring incidents. Not the least interesting was that in which the commanding officers of the three detachments were in turn grasping the hand of the quiet-looking young leader of the well-drilled Malays who had come up from the rear and literally flung back Rajah Suleiman’s savage warriors on to the bayonets of the returning force.
“I don’t know how to thank you enough, sir,” said Captain Down.
“Nor I, sir,” said Lieutenant Durham.
“You, Ripsy,” cried Captain Down again—“you understand these things better than we do. Did you ever witness a better advance and charge? You saw it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” said the old Sergeant, “just as we were all out of breath and were struggling out of the jungle path.”
“Well, say something to the Prince, man.”