"Well, we won't think of it. We'll hold on as long as we can. You didn't notice perhaps that I've had a shield of boiler plates set up on top of the parapet. I found we couldn't loophole the embankment, and the men couldn't fire without protection of some kind. This metal shield is better than nothing. It's loopholed. I only allow a few men to fire at the enemy, when there's a chance of their doing some good. But to keep up their spirits I let them all have a turn. They come up in squads, so that every man will have a chance of a shot during the day."
"You haven't used the machine gun? Couldn't you batter their breastwork with it?"
"It would be very much like pelting toy bricks with a pea-shooter. Gur Buksh has orders only to fire if there's a rush. What I fancy will happen is this. At night they'll try to rush our breastwork. If they get it they'll push a trench southward along the track until they're opposite us. What they'll do then about crossing the river I don't know. We've got to delay them as long as possible. I've made a ramshackle sort of searchlight out of Uncle's old camera: it may help us a little in the dark. But I must go out and talk to the men. I wish I were a dab at the lingo. Will you do the spouting?"
"You're in command. Get the Babu to interpret for you: what you say won't lose anything in his mouth."
"It may do him good too. He's getting positively thin with funk. Come along!"
While this conversation was in progress in the house, there had fallen a lull in the firing outside. It was clear that the enemy were not prepared for a rush, and had realized the uselessness of continually sniping at a garrison whom they rarely saw. There could be little doubt that they were waiting either for darkness to cover a dash up the track, or for the arrival of their field guns. Whatever the reason, the respite was welcome. Taking advantage of it, Bob left a small guard at the wall, and assembled the rest in the compound.
Lawrence was struck by the altered appearance of Ditta Lal when he came forward at Bob's summons. His fat cheeks had fallen in; his features spoke eloquently of despair; and his clothes hung loosely where formerly they had closely encased his rotundities.
"I should never have believed that a man could lose so much flesh in so little time," said Lawrence in a low tone.
"Do him good," returned Bob unfeelingly. "Ditta Lal, I'm going to speak to the men, and I want you to translate faithfully what I say--no additions or subtractions."
"I will do my best, sir," said the Babu with unwonted simplicity. "My voice is not strong; I am fading away like a flower."