Now they were sitting on the sand-bank, and the whale-boats were bringing up
the remainder of the column.
"Yes," said Torpenhow, as he put the last rude stitches into his over-long-
neglected gear, "it has been a beautiful business."
"The patch or the campaign?" said Dick. "Don't think much of either, myself."
"You want the Euryalus brought up above the Third Cataract, don't you? and
eighty-one-ton guns at Jakdul? Now, I'm quite satisfied with my breeches." He
turned round gravely to exhibit himself, after the manner of a clown.
"It's very pretty. Specially the lettering on the sack. G.B.T. Government
Bullock Train. That's a sack from India."
"It's my initials,--Gilbert Belling Torpenhow. I stole the cloth on purpose.
What the mischief are the camel-corps doing yonder?" Torpenhow shaded his eyes
and looked across the scrub-strewn gravel.
A bugle blew furiously, and the men on the bank hurried to their arms and
accoutrements.
"'Pisan soldiery surprised while bathing,'" remarked Dick, calmly.
"D'you remember the picture? It's by Michael Angelo; all beginners copy it.
That scrub's alive with enemy."
The camel-corps on the bank yelled to the infantry to come to them, and a
hoarse shouting down the river showed that the remainder of the column had wind
of the trouble and was hastening to take share in it.
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