With startling suddenness panic seized those who had faltered. Yelling with rage and despair they turned about and scurried like rabbits to the shelter of their breastwork, pursued by a dropping fire. When the survivors had got more than halfway back, their further retreat was covered by the field guns, and Bob again withdrew his men a little to the rear, well content with his successful stand.
There was no further attack that day. The men were jubilant. When Bob, on being relieved by Lawrence, returned to the mine, he was met at the end of the bridge by Ditta Lal. The Babu's aspect was even more than usually bland.
"I offer fulsome congratulations on sparkling victory, sir," he said. "Perchance you heard the universal shout that burst stentorian from drouthy throats."
"Is that your own?" asked Bob, interrupting.
"My own, sir?" The Babu was puzzled. "I fear I do not fully apprehend meaning of question."
"Why, it sounded like blank verse, and I wondered whether you yourself had been dropping into poetry."
"Delighted, sir," said the Babu with a smile and a bow. "I didn't twig my frail thoughts had run into metric mould. It was unpremeditated art. I am up to snuff now, sir. 'That burst stentorian from drouthy throats'--'pon my dicky, sir, phrase has tone, ring, sonorous rotundity that many professed poetasters would give boots for. However and notwithstanding, long and short of it is I am self-appointed spokesman for all and sundry in offering abject felicitations on auspicious event."
"Thanks, I'm sure."
They were walking side by side to the house.
"Now, dear sir," the Babu resumed, "when I was at Calcutta University--of which, as you are aware, I have honour and glory to be B.A.--I was wont to shed my light of countenance on football matches, watched young barbarians toe flying sphere. After certain amount of rough and tumble, at blast of whistle all performance ceased for brief interval, during which muddy oafs ingurgitated juice of lemons and all that."