Chapter Twenty One.
A Skirmish.
“This is a pretty state of affairs,” cried Mr Burne, opening and shutting his snuff-box to make it snap. “Now, what’s to be done?”
“Tramp to the nearest village, I suppose, and buy more,” replied the professor coolly, “We must expect reverses. This is one.”
“Hang your reverses, man! I don’t expect and I will not have them, if I can help it—serves us right for not watching over our baggage.”
“Well, Yussuf, I suppose you are right,” said the professor.
“Yes, effendi. What is to be done?”
“What I say.”