"Like it?" asked Philip, with a mischievous grin, proceeding to mop his face with a handkerchief which had once been white, but which was now a beautiful desert colour. "There they go again; heavy metal, eh?" "Four-inch, I should say," Geoff answered; "bigger perhaps. You'd better make sure of it, Philip. Why not catch one of the shells and let me know the measurements when you've finished--that is to say, if there's anything of you left after the skirmish? But there go our guns, and it sounds as though the advance-guard had already got into action. Ta-ta, old boy! I must get off, for I was returning to Head-quarters after delivering a message." As he swung himself across the back of the restive Sultan, and galloped towards Head-quarters, he heard the guns aboard the sloops which were accompanying the force up the Shatt-el-Arab open on the enemy. Bang! Bang! Bang! Quite sharp, sailor-like reports; while, in the far distance, through his glasses, he observed splotches of sand and dust springing up between himself and the flat horizon. "Take this 'chit' along to your old Commanding Officer," he was ordered the moment he reached Head-quarters. "Be good enough to ask him to act on the order immediately. You know the position of the regiment, and therefore need not delay to ask questions." Geoff saluted briskly, and tucked the note between his belt and his body; then, swinging Sultan round, he set him off at a pace which sent sand and gravel flying out behind them, and sent him across a wide open space--already passed by the troops--to that point where he knew the Mahrattas were marching. By now, the division had stretched itself out on the left bank of the river, its right flank protected by the water, and supported by the guns and rifles aboard the British sloops already mentioned. To the left it had deployed till the ranks were opened out considerably, while behind those ranks, now stationary, were the hundred-and-one followers always attached to an Indian army--bearers of ammunition for guns and rifles, water-carriers, stretcher-bearers, and other useful, if not ornamental, individuals. Here and there tall brown figures lay inertly on the smooth expanse of desert, while already stretcher-bearers were crossing the open space, bearing human bundles enclosed in stained khaki clothing towards the dressing-station opened for the reception and treatment of the wounded.