Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

“Possibly; but I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh, very well, then, we’ll say I’m wrong. But never mind that. We’ve done the fighting; the niggers are whopped, and here we are with the streams whispering to us to come and fish, the hills to go and shoot, and the forests and mountains begging us to up and bag deer, bear, and leopard. I shouldn’t be at all surprised even if we came upon a tiger. They say there is one here and there.”

“It is tempting,” said Bracy. “I long for a day or two’s try at something.”

“Even if it’s only a bit of a climb up the ice and snow,” put in Roberts.

“All in turn,” said Drummond. “Well, then, when we go back to mess this evening, let’s get some of the other fellows to back us up and petition Graves to give us leave.”

“No good,” said Roberts; “I know him too well. I have asked him.”

“And what did he say?” cried Drummond eagerly.

“As soon as ever I can feel that it is safe,” said Bracy. “I was there.”

“Oh!” cried Drummond.

“He’s right,” said Roberts. “I don’t believe that we can count upon these people yet.”

“Then let’s have a thoroughly good fight, and whack them into their senses. We’re sent up here to pacify these tribes, and I want to see it done.”

“So do we,” said Bracy; “but it must take time.”

“Don’t believe that any one else thinks as you do,” said Drummond sulkily; and they toiled on in silence till they came near the side of the falling water, whose rush was loud enough to drown their approach; and here they all seated themselves on the edge of the mere shelf of rock, trampled by many generations of sheep, dangled their legs over the perpendicular side, and listened to the music of the waters, as they let their eyes wander over the lovely landscape of tree, rock, and fall.

The scene was so peaceful that it was hard to believe that they were in the valley through whose rugged mazes the warlike tribes had streamed to besiege the fort; and Bracy was just bending forward to pick a lovely alpine primula, when he sniffed softly and turned to whisper to his companions.

“Do you smell that?” he said.

“Eh? Oh, yes; it’s the effect of the warm sunshine on the fir-trees.”

“’Tisn’t,” said Drummond, laughing. “It’s bad, strong tobacco. There!” he said as the loud scratch of a match on a piece of stone rose from just beneath their feet, as if to endorse his words, and the odour grew more pronounced and the smoke visible, rising from a tuft of young seedling pines some twenty feet below.

“Here, wake up, pardners,” cried a familiar voice. “You’re both asleep.”

“I wasn’t,” said a voice.

“Nor I,” said another; “only thinking.”

“Think with your eyes open, then. I say, any more of these niggers coming in to make peace?”

“S’pose so. The Colonel’s going to let a lot of ’em come in and help do duty in the place – isn’t he?”

“Ho, yus! Certainly. Of course! and hope you may get it. When old Graves has any of these white-cotton-gowny-diers doing sentry-go in Ghittah, just you come and tell me. Wake me up, you know, for I shall have been asleep for about twenty years.”

“He will. You see if he don’t.”

“Yah! Never-come-never,” cried Gedge. “Can’t yer see it’s all a dodge to get in the fort. They can’t do it fair fighting, so they’re beginning to scheme. Let ’em in? Ho, yus! Didn’t you see the Colonel put his tongue in his cheek and say, ‘Likely’?”

“No,” said one of Gedge’s companions, “nor you neither.”

“Can’t say I did see; but he must have done.”

The officers had softly drawn up their legs and moved away so as not to play eavesdropper, but they could not help hearing the men’s conversation thus far; and as soon as they had climbed out of earshot so as to get on a level with the top of the fall, where they meant to try and cross the stream, descend on the other side, and work their way back, after recrossing it at its exit into the river, Bracy took up the conversation again.

“There,” he said to Drummond, “you heard that?”

“Oh yes, I heard: but what do these fellows know about it?”

“They think,” said Bracy, “and – I say,” he whispered; “look!”

He pointed upward, and his companions caught sight of that which had taken his attention.

“What are those two fellows doing there?” whispered Roberts.

“Scouting, evidently,” said Bracy. “I saw their arms.”

“So did I,” replied Roberts. “Let’s get back at once, and pick up those lads as we go. One never knows what may come next. There may be mischief afloat instead of peace.”

At that moment Drummond gave Bracy a sharp nudge, and jerked his head in another direction.

“More of them,” said Bracy gravely; “yes, and more higher up. Well, this doesn’t look friendly.”

“No,” said Roberts. “Look sharp; they haven’t seen us. Let’s get back and take in the news.”

It was a difficult task for the three young Englishmen to compete with men trained as mountaineers from childhood; but the living game of chess had to be played on the Dwats’ own ground; and for a short time the party of officers carefully stole from rock to rock and from patch of trees to patch of trees till Roberts stopped short.

“No good,” he said softly. “I feel sure that the beggars are watching us.”

“Yes,” said Bracy; “they have the advantage of us from being on the high ground. Let’s go on openly and as if in perfect ignorance of their being near.”

By this time the young officers were on the farther side of the stream, below the falls, with it between them and the men they wished to turn back and take with them to the fort.

“What do you propose doing now?” asked Drummond.

“I’ll show you,” replied Roberts, and, parting the underwood, he threaded his way till he was close to the deep gully down which the water from the falls raced; and then selecting the most open spot he could, he placed his whistle to his lips and blew. The rallying whistle rose up the mountain-slope towards the falls, like the note of some wild bird startled from its lair among the moist depths of the gully.

To their great delight, the call had instant effect; for, unwittingly, they had made their way to where they halted just level with the party of their men who were not forty yards away. Consequently, before the note had died away the voice of Gedge was plainly heard.

“I say, boys,” he cried, “that’s a whistle.”

“Nobody said it was a bugle,” was the laughing reply.

“But it means cease firing,” said Gedge.

“That it don’t, stoopid, for no one’s shooting. Get out! Only some kind o’ foreign bird.”

“I don’t care; it is,” cried Gedge. “Way ho! Any one there?”