"Wouldn't they notice them when they make their rush?"
"That's possible, of course; but I rather fancy they'll be so hot to get at us that they won't. The wire won't show up much against the background of rock. Anyhow, it's worth trying. Any check would give us the chance to pepper them from the breastwork, and judging by what we've seen already they'll be in a panic that they'll take some time to recover from. Now you must get a sleep, so go back to the mine and tell Gur Buksh to get all the wire he can and set all the men to work; it won't be the first time he's had such a job, you may be sure."
When Lawrence had arranged this with the havildar, and was proceeding to the house, he noticed Ditta Lal walking with an air of dejection about the compound. The Babu's hands were clasped behind his back; his eyes were bent on the ground, or rather on the intervening promontory of his person. He looked up as Lawrence drew near.
"Gigantic undertaking, sir," he said sorrowfully.
"Pretty stiff, certainly," replied Lawrence.
"Stronger word is requisite in this exigent, sir. Such task transcends the topmost rung of art. Without excessive reverence for dictum of bloated antiquity, I hold with him who sings 'born not made.'"
"Well, we can only do our best," said Lawrence, puzzled by the Babu's words.
"What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue!" sighed Ditta Lal. "After mountainous travail I produce splendiferous line; I rack my cranium for colleague or successor; but final word, whose function is to charm attentive ear, eludes, evades, crumps. To wit: 'And batters blackguards with his boisterous bomb!'--line perfect in harmony and melody and all that; but when I run through alphabet for rhyme--com, dom, fom, gom, hom, and so on till I come to blank wall at zom: not a word, sir, that fulfils mutual demand of sound and sense--not one word."
"What on earth are you gassing about, Babu?" asked Lawrence, who had not heard of his previous conversation with Bob.
"Of what, sir, but task entrusted to unworthy servant by honourable brother, to compose song of victory, ode, epic, or what not, in celebration of happy and glorious achievement about to be consummated! But I will not despair; nil desperandum; as you truly remark, we can but do our best; resources of civilisation as represented by B.A. degree of Calcutta University are not exhausted; something attempted, something done, shall earn my night's repose, of which I shall be jolly and unmistakably glad, for agony of expressing thoughts too deep for tears wrings honest brow, sir."