“He jumped down into the middle of them,” the Major said. “Bathurst jumped down first, and was fighting like a madman with a mace he has got. We could do nothing, for we were afraid of hitting him, and Forster jumped down to help him, and, as he did so, got that rip with the bayonet; it is a nasty cut, no doubt, but it is only a flesh wound.” “Where is Mr. Bathurst?” Mrs. Doolan asked; “is he hurt, too? Why did he jump down? I should not have thought,” and she stopped. “I fancy a sort of fury seized him,” the Major said; “but whatever it was, he fought like a giant. He is a powerful man, and that iron mace is just the thing for such work. The natives went down like ninepins before him. No, I don’t think he is hurt.” “I will go out and see,” Mrs. Doolan said; and taking a mug half full of champagne from the table, she went out. Bathurst was sitting on the ground leaning against the wall of the house. “You are not hurt, Mr. Bathurst, I hope,” Mrs. Doolan said, as she came up. “No, don’t try to get up, drink a little of this; we are celebrating our victory by opening a case of champagne. The Major tells us you have been distinguishing yourself greatly.” Bathurst drank some of the wine before he replied. “In a way, Mrs. Doolan, I scarcely know what I did do. I wanted to do something, even if it was only to get killed.” “You must not talk like that,” she said kindly; “your life is as valuable as any here, and you know that we all like and esteem you; and, at any rate, you have shown today that you have plenty of courage.” “The courage of a Malay running amuck, Mrs. Doolan; that is not courage, it is madness. You cannot tell--no one can tell--what I have suffered since the siege began. The humiliation of knowing that I alone of the men here am unable to take my part in the defense, and that while others are fighting I am useful only to work as a miner.” “But you are as useful in that way as you would be in the other,” she said. “I don’t feel humiliated because I can only help in nursing the sick while the others are fighting for us. We have all of us our gifts. Few men have more than you. You have courage and coolness in other ways, and you are wrong to care nothing for your life because of the failing, for which you are not accountable, of your nerves to stand the sound of firearms.. I can understand your feelings and sympathize with you, but it is of no use to exaggerate the importance of such a matter. You might live a thousand lives without being again in a position when such a failing would be of the slightest importance, one way or the other. Now come in with me. Certainly this is not the moment for you to give way about it; for whatever your feelings may have been, or whatever may have impelled you to the act, you have on this occasion fought nobly.” “Not nobly, Mrs. Doolan,” he said, rising to his feet; “desperately, or madly, if you like.”