“What! when our men are hot with excitement and ready to smell mischief in a good sham-fight? I should just like to see them try—eh, Maine?”
“Yes, sir,” said Archie, with his eyes twinkling. “I think they would make a mistake.”
“Yes,” said the Major, leaning forward to give the boy a slap on the knee that made him wince. “And what about your despised British bayonets then—eh, sir? Eh?”
“Ah!” said the Resident thoughtfully.
“Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Sir Charles!” cried the Major. “Come, I think this is a grand proposal, and I can only see one failing in it.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“That I didn’t think of it myself. Why, my dear sir, it’s splendid; and I tell you what, we have got a pretty good supply in store. Our fellows shall give them a grand salvo of rockets at night from boats in the river, by way of a finish off, the band playing ‘God save the Queen’ the while, with plenty of big drum.”
“And you might make the campong people illuminate all their boats on the river,” said Archie.
“Capital! Of course!” cried the Major.
“Humph! Yes,” said Sir Charles. “And I might send in my invitation despatch a request to the two Rajahs to arrange that their nagas shall be well hung with lanterns.”