Kitabı oku: «Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills», sayfa 8
Chapter Eleven
Which was Braver?
“Steady, there; steady, my lads. Not too fast. Seize upon every bit of shelter, and have a few steady shots at them. They’re beaten, and we shall soon scatter them now.”
The lads were as steady as the most exacting officer could desire; and though the two sides of the narrow, winding defile were lined with the enemy, who made good use of their clumsy jezails, of whose long range several of the Fusiliers had had bitter experience, the deadly fire which searched out every sheltering crag was too much for the Dwats, who were retiring as fast as the difficult nature of the ground would allow.
Bracy felt that, the enemy was beaten, and knew that the fierce tribes-men would be only too glad to escape as soon as they could: but as the tight had gone against them, their supposed to be secure hiding-places were one by one growing untenable as the Fusiliers advanced; and consequently, as giving up was about the last thing they thought of doing, their action was that of rats at bay – fighting to the bitter end. The men of Roberts’s company knew, too, what they must do – drive the enemy completely out of the defile, or they would return again; so, partly held back by their officers, they advanced by a series of rushes, taking possession of every bit of fallen rock for shelter, and driving their enemies on and on, farther into the mountains, fully expecting that in a short time they would completely take to flight.
But disappointment followed disappointment. No sooner was one niche high up on the rocky sides cleared than there was firing from one on the other, and the work had to be gone through over again. Still they advanced, and the enemy retired; while the officers knew that sooner or later, in spite of numbers, this must come to an end, for nothing could withstand the accurate fire of the young Englishmen whenever they obtained a chance. Men dropped from time to time; but they had to lie where they fell till the fight was at an end, some to rise no more; others, knowing as they did the nature of the enemy, managed to creep to the shelter of a rock, where they laid their cartridges ready, and sat back watching the faces of the defile in anticipation of some marksman opening fire.
The company was in full pursuit, under the belief that they had completely cleared the defile as far as they had gone, when, in the midst of a rush led by Roberts and Bracy, both making for a rough breastwork of rocks built a hundred feet up one side and held by two or three score of the enemy, the latter uttered a sharp ejaculation, stopped short, and then dropped upon his knees, his sword, as it fell from his hand to the full extent of the knot secured by the slide to his wrist, jingling loudly on the stones. Roberts was at his side in a moment, and leaned over him.
“Not badly hurt?”
“No, no,” cried Bracy; “never mind me. On with you, and lead the boys; they’re close up to that breastwork. On – on!”
Roberts turned and rushed up the rock-strewn defile, reaching his men as they crowded together for a rush, and Bracy and the man hurrying to him saw them go over it as if they were engaged in an obstacle race. The next minute they disappeared round another bend in the jagged rift, in full pursuit of the late occupants of the murderous shelter.
“And me not with ’em, and me not with ’em!” groaned the private who had fallen back. “But I don’t care. I ain’t going to leave him.”
Before he could double back to where Bracy knelt, the wounded officer sank over sidewise, with the rugged defile seeming to swim round before his eyes, and, for a few minutes, glory, the hot rage of pursuit, and the bitter disappointment of failure were as nothing. Then he opened his eyes upon the lad who was bending over him, holding a water-bottle to his lips.
“Try and drink a drop, sir, if it’s ever so little.”
The words seemed to come from a great distance off and to echo in Bracy’s head, as he made an effort and swallowed a few drops of the lukewarm fluid.
“Gedge,” he said at last with difficulty, staring hard at the lad, whose head seemed to have gone back to its old state after the blow from the falling rock, but only to swell now to a monstrous size.
“Yes, sir; it’s me, sir. Ought to have gone on with the boys, but I couldn’t leave you, sir, for fear of some of the rats coming down from the holes to cut you up.”
“Rats? Holes?” said Bracy feebly. “What’s the matter?”
“Not much, I hope, sir; on’y you’ve got hit. Whereabouts is it? Ah, needn’t ask,” he muttered as he saw a dark mark beginning to show on the left breast of the young officer’s tunic, and spreading like a big blot on a writing-pad.
“Hit? Nonsense – ah!” Bracy uttered a low groan, and clapped his right hand across to cover the spot.
“Yes, sir. Jus’ there,” said Gedge; “but don’t you mind. It’s too high up to be dangerous, I know. Now, then. Amb’lance dooty. Must practice; I ain’t forgot that.”
Gedge gave a sharp look round and up and down the defile, before laying down his gun and taking out a bandage and some lint.
“Hold still, sir,” he said, drawing his breath through his teeth afterwards with a hiss, as he rapidly stripped open his officer’s jacket, and then tore away the shirt, to lay bare his white breast, where, just below the collar-bone, an ugly red patch showed itself.
“Sponge and cold water,” muttered Gedge; “and I ain’t got ’em.” Then aloud: “That hurt yer, sir?” for he was examining the wound.
“Never mind that; go on,” said Bracy faintly. “Plug the wound.”
“Right, sir. Jus’ going to. – One o’ their ugly bits o’ hiron,” muttered the lad as he stopped the effusion of blood in a rough-and-ready way which must have been agonising to the sufferer, who, however, never winced.
“That’s done it, sir; but I must turn you over to fasten the bandage.”
“Go on,” said Bracy in a faint whisper. – “Hah! the firing’s getting more distant.”
“Yes, sir; they’re driving ’em right out of it this time, and we not in it, and – oh, a mussy me!” whispered the speaker now, as in his manipulations he became conscious of the fact that his task was only half-done, for there was the place where the ragged missile had passed out close to the spine, and the plugging and bandaging had to be continued there.
“That’s good, sir,” he said cheerily. “You won’t have the doctor worriting you to get the bullet out, as he does with some of the lads. Now, then, a drop more water, and then I’m going to get you up yonder, more out of the sun, so as you’ll be more comf’table till they come back.”
“Yes!” sighed Bracy. “I can’t help you, my lad. Listen! they’re firing still.”
“Oh yes, sir; they’re doing the job proper this time. Shots is a good way off too. How they eckers, and – Hullo!” Gedge gave a sudden start, snatched at his rifle, and looked up the defile in the direction where his companions had passed, for there was a report from close at hand following upon the small stones close to his side being driven up, and he was watching a puff of smoke slowly rising high up the left precipitous side, finger on trigger, ready for a return shot, when – whiz – something like a swift beetle in full flight passed close to his ear, and he ducked down, simultaneously with an echoing report from the right side of the defile.
“Just like ’em!” he muttered. “Oh, you cowards! Only just show your muzzles, and I’ll let yer see what British musketry practice is like.”
But all Gedge saw was the gleam of a ramrod a hundred yards away, where one of the hill-men who had kept to his coign of vantage was rapidly reloading.
“No good to stop here,” muttered Gedge; “they’d be hitting him ’fore long. Me too, p’raps. Well, here goes.”
The lad rose upon his knees, took off his helmet and passed the strap of his rifle over his head and arm, slung it, replaced his helmet, and turned to Bracy.
“Won’t hurt yer more than I can ’elp, sir; but we can’t stop here.”
“No; lie down, my lad. Get into cover, and wait till you can reply.”
A sharp report from below them stopped Gedge from answering, and the bullet flattened against the rock a yard from where the lad knelt.
“Well, this is pleasant,” he said, showing his teeth in a grin which looked as vicious as that of a hunted dog. “Urrrr!” he snarled, “if I only had you three down on the level with my bay’net fixed. Draw a big breath, sir. Up yer comes. Now, then, you hold fast with yer right. Hook it round my neck, and don’t get the spike o’ my ’elmet in your eye. – Now, then, my lad; right-about face – quick march!”
Gedge strode off with his load held in his arms as a nurse would carry a baby, and at the first step – bang! bang! and echo – echo – two shots came from behind, and directly after another from the front, but from the opposite side to the spot from whence the former shot had been fired.
“Well, if they can’t hit me now they orter,” muttered Gedge as he strode on with his heavy burden. “This is going to be walking the gauntlet if any more on ’em’s left behind on the sneak. Oh dear! oh dear! if I only had a snug shelter and plenty o’ cartridges I think I could stop that little game. – Hurt yer much, sir?” he continued aloud after a few dozen yards had been covered. “Fainted! Poor chap! Better, p’raps, for he won’t know what’s going on. – Go it!” he snarled as shot after shot was fired; while, though he managed to get out of the line of fire of the two first enemies, he had to pass closer to the two next, who fired again and again from their eyries far up the sides of the defile, these nooks, fortunately for Gedge and his burden, having been reached from above – the perpendicular walls precluding all descent into the dried-up torrent-bed.
The young fellow was right; he had to run the gauntlet, for to his dismay, as he tramped on with his load, he awoke to the fact that the Dwats, who had retired from the upper shelves as the Fusiliers rushed up the defile, were coming back to their hiding-places, and, warned by the firing of their companions, were ready to harass the retreat.
“I don’t care,” he muttered, “if I can only get him outer fire; but they must hit one of us before long. ’Tain’t possible for ’em to keep on without.”
Bang! and then bang! again, and the stones close by where the brave fellow trod were struck up, one of them giving Gedge a sharp blow on the knee.
“Talk about hitting a ’aystack!” he snarled. “Why, I could make better practice with a indyrubber cattypult and a bag o’ marbles.”
“Gedge – Gedge!” came from Bracy’s lips in excited tones, for he had slowly revived to a knowledge of their position.
“Yes, sir; all right, sir. I know. I’d double, but the going is too bad.”
“Of course, my lad; impossible. But are you mad?”
“Yes, sir; downright savage at the murderous brutes. This is their way o’ treating the wounded.”
“I didn’t mean that, my man, but the way you’re carrying me.”
Shot after shot came whistling and buzzing by them from behind as he spoke, but still without effect.
“I’m carrying you all right, sir. Can’t help hurting you a bit. It’s easy this way.”
“Nonsense, man. Set me down at once. I can stand. Then sling your rifle in front, and take me on your back.”
“There they go, sir,” said Gedge as another shot buzzed by, telling of its rough shape. “They never did no pigeon-shooting, sir, nor practised at sparrers from the trap.”
“Did you hear what I said, sir?” cried Bracy angrily. “Set me down, and get me on your back. I can hold on with one hand and leave yours free.”
“Couldn’t use ’em if they was, sir.”
“Halt! Take me on your back at once, sir,” cried Bracy, panting with anger and pain.
“Can’t, sir. Who’s a-going to halt with them firing at us like that from behind? Ain’t I ’bliged to keep ree-treating?”
“Obey my orders, sir. I tell you I shall be easier to carry on your back.”
“Oh yes, sir, a deal easier to carry, and a nice deal easier to hit. Aintcher got it bad enough as it is?” said Gedge sulkily.
Bracy was silent for a few moments as he felt his suspicions realised. Gedge was carrying him in that awkward fashion so as to shelter him from any better-aimed bullet that might come. To make quite sure, though, he drew a deep breath and spoke again:
“I am wounded, sir, but I will be obeyed.”
“All right, sir; soon as ever we get out o’ shot.”
“But you are hurting me horribly; and can’t you see that, carrying me like this, you may receive the next bullet?”
“Oh yes, sir; I can see,” said Gedge coolly; “but you be quiet, and I won’t hurt you more’n I can help.”
Bracy’s voice had lost all its anger, and it was in no tone of command that he said:
“Set me down, my lad, and hold my arm. I’ll try to walk beside you while you take a shot or two at those cowardly brutes.”
“Ah, that’s just what I’d like to do, sir; but it would on’y be waste o’ time. They’d hit us, too, if we stood still for me to fire. It’s our keeping moving that helps. ’Sides, I know it would only make your wounds break out worse, and shift the bandage. You keep quiet, for I ain’t got no breath for talking.”
Bracy was silent, and slowly and steadily Gedge trudged on, growing more and more exhausted, and looking to right and left for some cavernous hole in which he could take refuge so as to screen his burden and defend him so long as he had a cartridge left.
“And even then,” he muttered softly, “there’s the bay’net. Wonder how I could get on in fair fight against one of the niggers with his tullywar. Too much for him, I fancy, for I am good at that game. Urrrr!” he snarled again, for half-a-dozen shots were fired at them almost together, but this time from lower down the defile in front, where the enemies who had fled were gathering again in force.
“That was a near un, sir,” said Gedge as a bullet whizzed just over his head. “Well sir, I beg pardon, sir, and hope you won’t report me for disobeying my sooperior orficer. I was a bit waxy and warm with a-carrying of yer; for you are a bit heavy, sir. Now, sir, please, I’m a-going to set you down gently and take you up on my back.”
Bracy paid no heed, but gazed down the narrow gorge, from whose sides more shots were fired.
“D’yer hear, sir? You’re most a-choking o’ me with that there arm.”
“Forward!” said Bracy between his teeth. “Mind, there’s a great rift there. Don’t stumble.”
“I’m a-going to shift you first, sir. Once you’re on my back I can straddle that easy.”
“Yes, Gedge, I know,” said Bracy as firmly as he could; “but don’t insult me any more.”
“Insult yer, sir? I wouldn’t do it. How!”
“By thinking your officers want to shelter themselves behind their men. Forward, my lad, unless you find a place where we can shelter till our comrades come back.”
“There aren’t no shelter, sir, and there aren’t no more mercy for them Dwats if we gets clear of this, which I don’t think we shall. There, sir! It’s all over, I suppose. Ain’t hit, are yer?”
“No. But that volley.”
“Yes, sir, there’s any number waiting for us. Here, we must walk the gauntlet back again now. We may meet our chaps coming.”
The firing was going on along the sides of the gorge, but just then there was another crash, a regular volley, and Gedge uttered a hoarse yell of excitement.
“It’s hoo-roar, sir,” he panted, “on’y I can’t shout. That’s our reserves coming up, and firing to keep the beggars’ fire down. See, they’ve stopped now. Oh, if my rifle wasn’t slung! Look at ’em. One – two – three of the cowardly beggars scuffling up yonder like great white rabbits, and on hands and feet, too.”
Crash! again. A sharp volley from much nearer, and Gedge stopped short to gaze with his companion at the three hill-men away in front, a couple or three hundred feet above the level where Bracy’s bearer stood forgetting his dangerous wound and his pangs as he felt horror-stricken at the terrible sight to his left.
There were, as Gedge said, three hill-men, crawling rapidly up a long shelf to reach a cluster of stones for shelter – a shelter they had left to get better aim at the struggling pair down below. And as the climbing Dwats were watched directly after the last volley, one who was last started up into a standing position, threw up his arms, and his long jezail fell from them down into the defile, while he balanced himself for a few moments and then dropped, turning over once, and disappearing from the watchers’ eyes. The next moment the top one came to a stand by a great stone, and rolled over and over till he reached the steep precipice, down which he plunged, the horrible thud with which he struck the stones coming plainly to Bracy’s ears.
There was still another white figure crawling up the narrow shelf, but he had stopped short; and as Bracy and his companion gazed, the poor wretch seemed to collapse and lie closer down to the rock. Just then another shot rang out, and the body gave a jerk, but did not move again.
“Hah!” ejaculated Gedge. “It’s very horrid, sir, but it was their turn, and our lads can shoot. Come on, sir. I think we shall do it now.”
He started off towards the body of their friends, who were coming rapidly on, but before they had gone a score of yards the firing from the enemy recommenced, and – spat! spat! – the bullets struck the stones close at hand.
“Oh, I say, sir, this is too bad!” groaned Gedge. “I did think we should do it now. Never mind. Britons never shall be slaves, and I will do it after all.”
There was a rattling fire opened at once on the sides of the gorge, completely crushing that of the hill-men; and a few minutes after, as Gedge tramped on with his load, it was to be met by a burst of cheers, and a score of his comrades came racing on to his help. It was just then that a final shot came from somewhere behind, and poor Gedge started violently, staggered forward, and the next moment he would have gone down heavily with his burden but for the ready help of a dozen willing hands.
Directly after a distant cheering was heard. Roberts and his company were coming back.
Chapter Twelve
Wounds
The enemy had been driven off with heavy loss, but the little victory had been dearly-won. Several men had been wounded, and most serious to all seemed to be the fact that among them was the gallant young officer who was liked by every man in the regiment. So it was that the march back to the great fort was made in silence; and when a few of the enemy, encouraged by what they looked upon as a retreat, hung about the rear and harassed the retiring column with shots from the heights, they paid dearly for being so venturesome. For Captain Roberts, leaving a little party in hiding to wait till the enemy showed in their pursuit, listened with a grim smile upon his lip till there was a sudden outburst of firing, and then tramped on with the remainder of his company, keeping as much as he could by the mule ambulance which was bearing his friend back to the fort.
Within half-an-hour the little firing-party overtook the rear of the column, and Roberts halted till they came up to him.
“Well, Sergeant?” he said.
“All right now, sir,” said Gee, who looked what the men called ugly. “I think we’ve brought ’em all down.”
“You’re not sure, of course?”
“Well, pretty nigh, sir. There ain’t been a shot since.”
“Good. Be on the lookout. I hate for our poor fellows to be harassed like this.”
“It’s horrid, sir; but, begging your pardon, sir, how’s Mr Bracy?”
“Bad, Gee, bad. I’m afraid he is shot through the lungs.”
Sergeant Gee’s brow went into a mass of puckers and frowns, and there was the peculiar sound of one grinding his teeth together, as the man tramped on behind his officer for a few minutes before speaking again.
“Beg pardon, sir; there’s that Bill Gedge. Is he much hurt?”
“Very gravely, I’m afraid. Dr Morton can’t tell yet from the hasty examination he made, but he shook his head.”
“Poor lad!” said the Sergeant. “We were always bad friends, sir; he was so full of his Cockney monkey-tricks, and he hated me, but we couldn’t spare him. What a soldier he would have made!”
“Hah!” ejaculated Roberts; “as full of pluck as a lad could be. Mr Bracy’s been telling me how he carried him through the fire, and sheltered him with his own body. That’s how it was he had his wound.”
There was another pause, with the silence only broken by the echoing tramp, tramp of the men.
“Won’t die – will he, sir?” whispered Sergeant Gee.
“I pray Heaven no,” said the Captain.
“That sounds bad, sir,” said the Sergeant huskily. “I should like to shake hands with him afore he goes; and if he gets better I won’t be so hard on him again.”
“I suppose you have only done your duty by him.”
“I hope so, sir.”
“Double on to the ambulance, and see how he is. Corporal Green, take the Sergeant’s place.”
Roberts halted to let his men pass him, keenly watching every one in his company, and a man limping caught his eye.
“Here, Bracy, what’s the matter?” he said.
“Oh, nothing much, sir. Spent shot glanced off the rock and hit me in the ankle.”
“Give him your arm, Sergeant, and get him on one of the mules.”
“Beg pardon, sir; I can walk back.”
“You’re making your leg worse at every step, sir,” cried Roberts angrily. “Get on and ride.”
The words were spoken sharply, the young Captain being in no very amiable mood, for he was cooling down after tremendous exertion and the reaction from the wild excitement of the fight. But he spoke in the man’s interest and with the desire to save him from after-suffering.
Then the weary tramp went on almost in silence, but no one flagged, and at the end of a couple of hours they obtained a glimpse of the flag at the top of the staff. The silence in the column was broken by a hearty cheer, the men’s spirits rising again after what had been a depressing march back; and when the gates were reached they were cheered by the men on the walls, and the hills around softly echoed back the replies to the hearty welcome they had received.
The Colonel, with the officers left behind, stood at the gate waiting, and the answer to his inquiry regarding the enemy brought forth a fresh cheer.
“Splendidly done!” said the Colonel; and then sharply, “What casualties?”
“Mr Bracy severely wounded. Privates Down and Gedge had bullet-wounds. Other hurts slight.”
The Doctor hurried away to his operating-room, and his assistants went to the door to help in the three patients, who were attended to in turn.
The first man who had fallen had to have a bullet extracted from his leg, half-way to the hip, where it was deeply embedded in the muscle.
“Now, my dear Bracy,” said the Doctor, “let’s look at you.”
“No, I can wait,” was the reply. “My bandages is quite firm, and the bleeding has ceased.”
The Doctor frowned, and was about to say something regarding interference; but he checked himself, glanced at the bandage, and nodded.
“Very well,” he said; “the other man.”
Poor Gedge was very white and remarkably quiet, but his eyes were full of motion; and he watched the Doctor’s face and every action of his hands.
“Why, Gedge, my lad,” said the Doctor cheerily after a certain amount of busy manipulation, “this isn’t fair. I didn’t want to have you in hospital again.”
“Same to you, sir,” said the sufferer, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, as he screwed his head round to look at the Doctor.
“Hold still, sir. Look the other way.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gedge faintly. “’Tain’t my head this time, sir.”
“No, my lad; it’s not your head this time.”
“Sorry it’s my back, sir; but I warn’t a-running away.”
“Bah! of course you were not; our lads don’t know how.”
“No, sir; course not, sir.”
“Got it carrying Mr Bracy out of the fire – eh?”
“Well, yes, sir, I s’pose so, sir. Shall I – shall I – ”
The poor fellow stopped short.
“Shall you what?” said the Doctor kindly; “try to move?”
“No, sir,” said the poor fellow feebly; “I didn’t mean that. It was, shall I be a goner?”
“Oh, nonsense – nonsense! Humph! poor fellow! he has fainted.”
“Is his wound serious, Doctor?” said Bracy huskily.
“Never you mind. You lie still and wait. Well, there. Yes, the hurt is a very bad one. I don’t think he’ll die; but the bullet is in a dangerous place, and I dare not try to extract it to-day.”
A short time after poor Gedge was lying in a state of stupor upon the bed he had previously occupied, and the Doctor was examining the young officer’s wounds.
“Very bad, Doctor?” asked Bracy.
“Bad enough, sir. I don’t like this exit so close to the vertebrae. – That hurt?”
“No; it feels dull and cold just there.”
“Raise that hand a little.”
“Can’t, Doctor; I’m so tightly bandaged.”
“Humph! Yes, you are pretty well tied up. That poor fellow Gedge did wonderfully well for you, considering. He attended to his ambulance lessons. First help’s a grand thing when a man’s bleeding to death.”
“Was I bleeding to death?” said Bracy rather faintly.
“Of course you were; or perhaps not. The bleeding might have stopped of itself, but I shouldn’t have liked to trust it. There; shan’t do any more to you to-day. We’ll have you to bed and asleep. That’s the first step towards getting well again. Sorry to have you down so soon, Bracy, my dear boy. There, keep a good heart, and I’ll soon get you right again.”
The Colonel was at the hospital door soon after, along with Major Graham, both anxious to hear about Bracy’s hurt.
“Bad,” said the Doctor shortly as he put on his coat. “Don’t ask to see the poor boy; he’s just dropping off to sleep.”
“Bad?” said the Colonel anxiously.
“Yes, bad, sir. A young fellow can’t have a hole drilled right through him by a piece of ragged iron without being in a very serious condition.”
“But the wound is not fatal?”
“H’m! no, not fatal. He’s young, strong, and healthy; but the exit of the missile was in close proximity to the spine, and there’s no knowing what mischief may have been done.”
“What do you mean?” said the Colonel anxiously.
“Injury to the nerve centre there. I can’t say. Possibly nothing may follow, but I am obliged to say the wound is bad, and there is danger of his being crippled – permanently injured in a way which would render him unfit for service.”
“But look here,” said the Major excitedly, “you have a bad habit of making the worst of things, Morton. Come, explain yourself. Are there any symptoms suggestive of what you hint at?”
“My dear Graham, I never come and interfere with your work; don’t you meddle with mine.”
“I don’t want to, sir,” said the Major tartly. “I only want for the Colonel and yours obediently not to be left in the dark.”
“Graham is quite right,” said the Colonel gravely. “We should like to know a little more.”
“Very good,” said the Doctor, “but I can only say this: there is a peculiar absence of sensation in the lower extremities, and especially in the poor fellow’s left arm. This may be temporary, and due to the terrible shock of the wound; but it also may be consequent upon injury to the nerves in connection with the spine. I can say no more. Time only will show.”
The two officers left the hospital-room, looking terribly depressed.
“Poor lad! poor lad!” the Major kept on saying. “Such a brave, unassuming fellow. It’s wonderful how little we realise how we like our fellow-men, Colonel, till they are badly hurt. Hah! I am sorry – more sorry than I can express.”
The Colonel said nothing, but turned and held out his hand, which the Major took and pressed warmly.
“Thank you, Graves,” he said, taking out a showy silk handkerchief and blowing his nose very hard, making it give forth sounds like those made by a boy beginning to learn the bugle. “Hah!” he said; “one never knows. Here to-day and gone to-morrow, Graves. May be our turn next.”
“Yes,” said the Colonel quietly: “but if it is in the way of duty, I don’t see that we need mind.”
“Humph! Well, I don’t know about that. I should like to live to a hundred, if only for the sake of finding out what it feels like. Some people do.”
“Yes,” said the Colonel, smiling; “and over a hundred; but then they die.”
“Yes, of course; but from old ago.”
“And other things too, as the old epitaph says.”
“What old epitaph?”
“On the venerable lady. The lines run something like this: —
“She lived strong and well to a hundred and ten,
And died by a fall from a cherry-tree then.”
“Bah! don’t talk about dying, Graves. Poor Bracy! Oh, the Doctor must set him all right again. But this sort of thing does make one feel a bit serious.”
“It is very, very sad,” said the Colonel.
“Yes, very. By the way, though, have you noticed how splendidly our lads are behaving?”
“Magnificently, for such mere boys,” said the Colonel meaningly.
“For such mere boys?” said the Major sharply. “I never saw men in any regiment behave better. Why, sir, it was magnificent to-day. I didn’t say anything to Roberts about it, because I don’t want the lads to hear and get puffed up by pride. But, really, sir, I’m very proud of our regiment.”
“And so am I. But you have changed your ideas a little.”
“Bah! Pooh! Nonsense! Don’t jump on a man because he spoke out a bit. You’ll grant yourself that they are a very boyish-looking lot.”
“Yes; but I do not judge them by appearances. I look at their discipline and acts.”
“So do I,” said the Major, “and I recant all I said about them before. There, sir, will that satisfy you?”
“Quite, Graham,” said the Colonel. “There, we must be hopeful. I couldn’t bear for poor Bracy to become a wreck.”
