"Three hundred, Saadat."
"How many hundredweight of dourha?" "Eighty—about."
"And how many mouths to feed?" "Five thousand."
"How many fighters go with the mouths?"
"Nine hundred and eighty-of a kind."
"And of the best?'
"Well, say, five hundred."
"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."