“Thee said six hundred three days ago, Lacey.”
“Sixty were killed or wounded on Sunday, and forty I reckon in the others, Saadat.”
The dark eyes flashed, the lips set. “The fire was sickening—they fell back?”
“Well, Saadat, they reflected—at the wrong time.”
“They ran?”
“Not back—they were slow in getting on.”
“But they fought it out?”
“They had to—root hog, or die. You see, Saadat, in that five hundred I’m only counting the invincibles, the up-and-at-’ems, the blind-goers that ‘d open the lid of Hell and jump in after the enemy.”
The pale face lighted. “So many! I would not have put the estimate half so high. Not bad for a dark race fighting for they know not what!”
“They know that all right; they are fighting for you, Saadat.”