There was no further attack that day. The men were jubilant. When Bob, on being relieved by Lawrence, returned to the mine, he was met at the end of the bridge by Ditta Lal. The Babu’s aspect was even more than usually bland. "I offer fulsome congratulations on sparkling victory, sir," he said. "Perchance you heard the universal shout that burst stentorian from drouthy throats." "Is that your own?" asked Bob, interrupting. "My own, sir?" The Babu was puzzled. "I fear I do not fully apprehend meaning of question." "Why, it sounded like blank verse, and I wondered whether you yourself had been dropping into poetry." "Delighted, sir," said the Babu with a smile and a bow. "I didn’t twig my frail thoughts had run into metric mould. It was unpremeditated art. I am up to snuff now, sir. ’That burst stentorian from drouthy throats’--’pon my dicky, sir, phrase has tone, ring, sonorous rotundity that many professed poetasters would give boots for. However and notwithstanding, long and short of it is I am self-appointed spokesman for all and sundry in offering abject felicitations on auspicious event." "Thanks, I’m sure." They were walking side by side to the house. "Now, dear sir," the Babu resumed, "when I was at Calcutta University--of which, as you are aware, I have honour and glory to be B.A.--I was wont to shed my light of countenance on football matches, watched young barbarians toe flying sphere. After certain amount of rough and tumble, at blast of whistle all performance ceased for brief interval, during which muddy oafs ingurgitated juice of lemons and all that." "What are you driving at?" asked Bob in bewilderment. "Why, sir, that interludium, denominated half-time, has parallel here and now. We are at half-time in this fateful strife. Three days and half of allotted span have expired; and I make bold to suggestion that, for refreshment and buck-up of general company, you issue orders for tamasha." "What’s that?" "Tamasha, sir, is jollification, kick-up, regular beano--song and dance, et cetera. With your permission, I will undertake herculean labour of organization." "My good man, you know our proverbs: ’Don’t hallo till you’re out of the wood’--’Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched.’ It’s true the men have done very well so far, but the stiffest fight often comes in the second half, you know. Possess your soul in patience, Babu. If we come through safely I promise you shall have your tamasha, or whatever you call it, and I tell you what: as you seem to be a bit of a poet, why not spend your time in writing a ballad or something of the sort in anticipation?" "Happy thought, sir. I have not hitherto built rhyme, lofty or otherwise, but I will do my level best to rise to height of great argument; I will set my eye in fine frenzy rolling, and body forth forms of things unknown at present, but justified by event. I will strike my lyre while it is hot. Good-night, sir, and sweet repose."