Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

“That’s a pity. You must come without him, then, Bracy.”

“I really can’t, Doctor; not now. I am going with Roberts.”

“Humph! that’s unfortunate. Mr Drummond would like to see, perhaps, how we arrange for our men who are down?”

“Most happy, Doctor – ”

“Hah!”

“But I am going with my friends here.”

“Standing on ceremony – eh, gentlemen?” said the Doctor, smiling quickly and taking a pinch of snuff. “Well, we’ll wait a bit. I dare say you will neither of you be so much occupied when you are once brought in to me. I thought perhaps you would like to go over the place first.”

Bracy turned and took hold of the Doctor’s arm.

“All right, Doctor,” he said, laughing. “You had us there on the hip. I’ll come.”

“What, and keep the Colonel waiting?”

“We can go there afterwards,” said Bracy quietly. “Come, Roberts, you can’t hold back now.”

“Not going to, old fellow. There, Doctor, I beg your pardon. I’ll come.”

“Granted, my dear boy,” said the Doctor quietly. “There, Mr Drummond, you’ll have to go alone.”

“Not I,” said the subaltern, smiling. “I’ll come and take my dose with them.”

“Good boy!” said the Doctor, smiling.

“I suppose you have not had your two patients taken to the hospital yet?” said Bracy.

“Then you supposed wrongly, sir. There they are, and as comfortable as can be.”

“That’s capital,” cried Bracy, “for I wanted to come and see that poor fellow Gedge.”

“That fits,” said the Doctor, “for he was asking if you were likely to come to the hospital; but I told him no, for you would be on duty. This way, gentlemen, to my drawing-room, where I am at home night and day, ready to receive my visitors. Now, which of you, I wonder, will be the first to give me a call?”

“Look here, Doctor,” said Roberts, “if you’re going to keep on in this strain I’m off.”

“No, no; don’t go. You must see the place. I’ve a long room, with a small one close by, which I mean to reserve for my better-class patients. – Here, you two,” he said to the injured privates lying upon a couple of charpoys, “I’ve brought you some visitors.”

Sergeant Gee’s wife, whose services had been enlisted as first nurse, rose from her chair, where she was busy with her needle, to curtsey to the visitors; and Gedge uttered a low groan as he caught up the light cotton coverlet and threw it over his head.

“Look at him,” said the Doctor merrily, and he snatched the coverlet back. “Why, you vain peacock of a fellow, who do you think is going to notice the size of your head?”

“I, for one,” said Bracy, smiling. “Why, Gedge, it is nothing like so big as it was.”

The lad looked at him as if he doubted his words.

“Ain’t it, sir? Ain’t it really?”

“Certainly not.”

“Hoo-roar, then! who cares? If it isn’t so big now it’s getting better, ’cos it was getting bigger and bigger last night – warn’t it, sir?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor; “but the night’s rest and the long sleep gave the swelling time to subside.”

“The which, please, sir.”

“The long sleep,” said the Doctor tartly.

“Please, sir, I didn’t get no long sleep.”

“Nonsense, man!”

“Well, you ask him, sir. I never went to sleep – did I, pardner?”

“No,” said his wounded companion. “We was talking all night when we wasn’t saying Hff! or Oh! or Oh dear! or That’s a stinger! – wasn’t we, Gedge, mate?”

“That’s right, pardner. But it don’t matter, sir – do it? – not a bit, as the swelling’s going down?”

“Not a bit,” said Bracy, to whom this question was addressed. “There, we are not going to stay. Make haste, my lad, and get well. I’m glad you are in such good quarters.”

“Thank ye, sir, thank ye. Quarters is all right, sir; but I’d rather be in the ranks. So would he – wouldn’t you, pardner?”

His fellow-sufferer, who looked doubtful at Gedge’s free-and-easy way of talking, glancing the while at the Doctor to see how he would take it, nodded his head and delivered himself of a grunt, as the little party filed out of the long, whitewashed, barn-like room.

“A couple of wonderful escapes,” said the Doctor, “and quite a treat. I’ve had nothing to see to but cases of fever, and lads sick through eating or drinking what they ought not to. But I dare say I shall be busy now.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” said Roberts as they returned to the great court of the large building. “Glad you’ve got such good quarters for your patients.”

“Thanks to you for coming,” replied the Doctor; and the parties separated, Drummond leading his new friends off to introduce them to some of the anxious, careworn ladies who had accompanied their husbands in the regiment, and of the Civil Service, who had come up to Ghittah at a time when a rising of the hill-tribes was not for a moment expected. On his way he turned with a look of disgust to Bracy.

“I say,” he said, “does your Doctor always talk shop like that?”

“Well, not quite, but pretty frequently – eh, Roberts?”

The latter smiled grimly.

“He’s a bit of an enthusiast in his profession, Drummond,” he said. “Very clever man.”

“Oh, is he? Well, I should like him better if he wasn’t quite so much so. Did you see how he looked at me?”

“No.”

“I did. Just as if he was turning me inside out, and I felt as if he were going all over me with one of those penny trumpet things doctors use to listen to you with. I know he came to the conclusion that I was too thin, and that he ought to put me through a course of medicine.”

“Nonsense.”

“Oh, but he did. Thank goodness, though, I don’t belong to your regiment.”

The young men were very warmly welcomed in the officers’ quarters; and it seemed that morning as if their coming had brought sunshine into the dreary place, every worn face beginning to take a more hopeful look.

Drummond took this view at once, as he led the way back into the great court.

“Glad I took you in there,” he said; “they don’t look the same as they did yesterday. Just fancy, you know, the poor things sitting in there all day so as to be out of the reach of flying shots, and wondering whether their husbands will escape unhurt for another day, and whether that will be the last they’ll ever see.”

“Terrible!” said Bracy.

“Yes, isn’t it? Don’t think I shall ever get married, as I’m a soldier; for it doesn’t seem right to bring a poor, tender lady out to such places as this. It gives me the shivers sometimes; but these poor things, they don’t know what it will all be when they marry and come out.”

“And if they did they would come all the same,” said Roberts bluffly.

“Well, it’s quite right,” said Bracy thoughtfully. “It’s splendidly English and plucky for a girl to be willing to share all the troubles her husband goes through.”

“So it is,” said Drummond. “I’ve always admired it when I’ve read of such things; and it makes you feel that heroines are much greater than heroes.”

“It doesn’t seem as if heroes were made nowadays,” said Bracy, laughing. “Hullo! where are you taking us?”

“Right up to the top of the highest tower to pay your respects to the British Raj. I helped the colour-sergeant to fix it up there. We put up a new pole twice as high as the old one, so as to make the enemy waxy, and show him that we meant to stay.”

“All right; we may as well see every place while we’re about it.”

“You can get a splendid lookout over the enemy’s camping-ground, too, from up here.”

“Then you still think that these are enemies?”

“Certain,” said Drummond; and words were spared for breathing purposes till the flag-pole was reached, and the young subaltern passed his arm round it and stood waiting while his companions took a good long panoramic look.

“There you are,” he then said. “See that green patch with the snow-pyramid rising out of it?”

“Yes; not big, is it?”

“Awful, and steep. That mountain’s as big as Mont Blanc; and from that deodar forest right up the slope is the place to go for bear.”

“Where are the pheasants?” asked Roberts, taking out his glass.

“Oh, in the woods down behind the hills there,” said Drummond, pointing. “Splendid fellows; some of reddish-brown with white spots, and bare heads all blue and with sort of horns. Then you come upon some great fellows, the young ones and the hens about coloured like ours, but with short, broad tails. But you should see the cock-birds. Splendid. They have grand, greeny-gold crests, ruby-and-purple necks, a white patch on their back and the feathers all about it steely-blue and green, while their broad, short tails are cinnamon-colour.”

“You seem to know all about them,” said Bracy, laughing.

“Shot lots. They’re thumpers, and a treat for the poor ladies, when I get any; but it has been getting worse and worse lately. Couldn’t have a day’s shooting without the beggars taking pop-shots at you from the hills. I don’t know where we should have been if their guns shot straight.”

“Well, we shall have to drive the scoundrels farther off,” said Roberts, “for I want some shooting.”

“Bring your gun?” cried Drummond, eagerly.

“Regular battery. So did he; didn’t you, Bracy?”

There was no reply.

“Bracy, are you deaf?”

“No, no,” said the young man hurriedly, as he stood in one corner of the square tower, resting his binocular upon the parapet, and gazing through it intently.

“See a bear on one of the hills?” said Drummond sharply.

“No; I was watching that fir-wood right away there in the hollow. Are they patches of snow I can see in there among the trees?”

“Where – where?” cried Drummond excitedly.

“Come and look. The glass is set right, and you can see the exact spot without touching it.”

Bracy made way, and Roberts stepped to the other side of the tower and looked over the wide interval to where their visitors of the morning were forming a kind of camp, as if they meant to stay.

“Phee-ew!”

Drummond gave a long, low whistle.

“Snow?” said Bracy.

“No snow there; at this time of year. That’s where some of the enemy are, then – some of those who disappeared so suddenly yesterday. Those are their white gowns you can see, and there’s a tremendous nest of them.”

“Enemies of our visitors this morning?”

“They said so,” replied Drummond, with a mocking laugh; “but it seems rather rum for them to come and camp so near one another, and neither party to know. Doesn’t it to you?”

“Exactly,” cried Bracy. “They would be sure to be aware, of course.”

“Yes, of course. What idiots they must think us! I’d bet a penny that if we sent out scouts they’d find some more of the beauties creeping down the valleys. Well, it’s a great comfort to know that this lot on the slope here are friends.”

“Which you mean to be sarcastic?” said Bracy.

“Which I just do. I say, I’m glad I brought you up here, and that you spied out that party yonder. Come away down, and let’s tell the Colonel. He’ll alter his opinion then.”

“And send out a few scouts?” said Bracy.

Drummond shook his head.

“Doesn’t do to send out scouts here.”

“Why?”

“They don’t come back again.”

“Get picked off?”

“Yes – by the beggars who lie about among the stones. We have to make sallies in force when we go from behind these walls. But, I say, you two haven’t had much fighting, I suppose?”

“None, till the bit of a brush as we came here.”

“Like it?”

“Don’t know,” said Bracy. “It’s very exciting.”

“Oh, yes, it’s exciting enough. We’ve had it pretty warm here, I can tell you. I begin to like it now.”

“You do?”

“Yes; when I get warm. Not at first, because one’s always thinking about whether the next bullet will hit you – ’specially when the poor fellows get dropping about you; but you soon get warm. It makes you savage to see men you know going down without being able to get a shot in return. Then you’re all right. You like it then.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Bracy, and his brow wrinkled. “But had we not better go down and give the alarm?”

“Plenty of time. No need to hurry. They’re not going to attack; only lying up waiting to see if those beggars who came this morning can do anything by scheming. I fancy they’re getting a bit short of lead, for we’ve had all kinds of rubbish shot into the fort here – bits of iron, nails, stones, and broken bits of pot. We’ve seen them, too, hunting about among the rocks for our spent bullets. You’ll find them very nice sort of fellows, ready to shoot at you with something from a distance to give you a wound that won’t heal, and cut at you when they can come to close quarters with tulwars and knives that are sharp as razors. They will heal, for, as our doctor says, they are beautiful clean cuts that close well. Never saw the beauty of them, though. He’s almost as bad as your old chap for that.”

“But we had better go down and give the alarm,” said Bracy anxiously.

“None to give,” said Drummond coolly. “It’s only a bit of news, and that’s how it will be taken. Nothing to be done, but perhaps double the sentries in the weak places. Not that they’re very weak, or we shouldn’t have been hen; when you came.”

“Well, I shall feel more comfortable when my Colonel knows – eh, Roberts?”

“Yes,” said the latter, who had stood frowning and listening; “and I don’t think he will be for sitting down so quietly as your old man.”

“Not yet. Be for turning some of them out.”

“Of course.”

“Very spirited and nice; but it means losing men, and the beggars come back again. We used to do a lot of that sort of thing, but of late the policy has been to do nothing unless they attacked, and then to give them all we knew. Pays best.”

“I don’t know,” said Roberts as they were descending fast; “it can’t make any impression upon the enemy.”

“Shows them that the English have come to stay,” interposed Bracy.

“Yes, perhaps; but they may read it that we are afraid of them on seeing us keep behind walls.”

A minute or two later the news was borne to headquarters, where the two Colonels were in eager conference, and upon hearing it Colonel Graves leaped up and turned to his senior as if expecting immediate orders for action; but his colleague’s face wrinkled a little more, and he said quietly:

“Then that visit was a mere ruse to put us off our guard and give them an opportunity for meeting the fresh odds with which they have to contend.”

“Of course it was,” said Colonel Graves firmly.

“Well, there is nothing to be alarmed about; they will do nothing till they have waited to see whether we accept the offer of admitting as friends a couple of hundred Ghazees within the gates. – Thank you, gentlemen, for your information. There is no cause for alarm.”

The young officers left their two seniors together, and as soon as they were alone Drummond frowned.

“Poor old Colonel!” he said sadly; “he has been getting weaker for days past, and your coming has finished him up. Don’t you see?”

“No,” said Bracy sharply. “What do you mean?”

“He has Colonel Graves to lean on now, and trust to save the ladies and the place. I shouldn’t be surprised to see him give up altogether and put himself in the doctor’s hands. Well, you fellows will help us to do the work?”

“Yes,” said Bracy quickly, “come what may.”

“We’re going to learn the art of war in earnest now, old chap,” said Roberts as soon as they were alone again.

“Seems like it.”

“Yes. I wonder whether we shall take it as coolly as this young Drummond.”

“I wonder,” said Bracy; “he’s an odd fish.”

“But I think I like him,” said Roberts.

“Like him?” replied Bracy. “I’m sure I do.”

Chapter Nine

Warm Corners and Cold

It was a glorious day, with the air so bright, elastic, and inspiriting that the young officers of the garrison felt their position irksome in the extreme. For the Colonel’s orders were stringent. The limits allowed to officer or man outside the walls were very narrow, and all the time hill, mountain, forest, and valley were wooing them to come and investigate their depths.

It was afternoon when Roberts, Bracy, and Drummond, being off duty, had strolled for a short distance along the farther side of the main stream, and paused at last in a lovely spot where a side gorge came down from the hills, to end suddenly some hundred feet above their heads; and from the scarped rock the stream it brought down made a sudden leap, spread out at first into drops, which broke again into fine ruin, and reached the bottom like a thick veil of mist spanned by a lovely rainbow. The walls of rock, bedewed by the ever-falling water, were a series of the most brilliant greens supplied by the luxuriant ferns and mosses, while here and there, where their seeds had found nourishment in cleft and chasm, huge cedars, perfect in their pyramidal symmetry, rose spiring up to arrow-like points a hundred, two hundred feet in the pure air. Flowers dotted the grassy bottom; birds flitted here and there, and sang. There was the delicious lemony odour emitted by the deodars, and a dreamy feeling of its being good to live there always amidst so much beauty; for other music beside that of birds added to the enhancement – music supplied by the falling waters, sweet, silvery, tinkling, rising and falling, mingling with the deep bass of a low, humming roar.

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