Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

“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.