"A brick! I feel like one," laughed Gerrard. He and Charteris looked at one another and laughed again. They had both discarded their tunics in favour of what they called blouses, loose holland garments like long Norfolk jackets, and Gerrard had exchanged his cap for a hat of white feathers lined with green, the precursor of the sun-helmet.
"Good job we ain't in Khemistan. Old Harry Lennox would have court-martialled us like winkin'," said Charteris. "He wouldn't even consider it an extenuating circumstance that we've won."
"Not very much of a win, since we can't follow it up."
"Well, I don't know. Another fight like this will bring us in sight of
Agpur."
[1] Guns mounted on the backs of camels.
[2] The Mohammedan creed.
CHAPTER XIX.
AS OTHERS SEE US.
"I can't think why there was no letter for me!" lamented Marian Cowper.
"Perhaps it will come by a special runner to-morrow," suggested Honour.
"Papa would send it on, I am sure."