Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

The tall, thin figure stopped short in front of the burning building, to gaze down wonderingly.

“Drummond – Scotch coward!” roared a voice, and a yell of execration burst forth.

Just at that moment, from behind an angle of the building, four of the Ghazis, who had lain hidden there and escaped the deadly fire, rushed forth yelling and waving their swords as they made for the figure standing apparently beyond the reach of help.

“Quick, some one – fire, fire!” shouted Roberts.

The figure heard the cry, and turned just in time to face his enemies, two of whom reached him together, cutting at him with all their might. But, active as a cat, the tall, lithe youth avoided one of his foes by leaping aside, ran the other man through, and swinging round, with a tremendous cut severed the wrist of the wretch he had avoided, when coming at him for a second blow.

The other two did not reach him, for half-a-dozen shots rang out, and the true firing of the boy-regiment was again proved, the two Ghazis leaping high in the air, and falling backward on to the bayonets of the men below. There was another cheer at this, but it was dominated directly after by a renewal of the howl of execration which had broken out before.

The hearer looked for a moment or two puzzled, and hesitated to advance; but the next minute he turned half-face, doubled along the rampart to the steps, and descended to the court, passing coolly among the men where Colonel Graves was standing giving orders.

“Mr Drummond,” he said, “I am told that you left your men in a way that disgraces a British officer.”

“That I didn’t,” cried the young man indignantly. “I heard you say that if we only had light we could see to fire, or something of that sort.”

“Yes, sir, I did,” said the Colonel sternly.

“Well, sir, I ran along the ramp and climbed up three times before I could get to the store, and then set fire to the fodder; but it was ever so long before I could get it to burn, and then I couldn’t get out.”

“You did that?” cried the Colonel.

“To be sure I did, sir. Wasn’t it right? Oh, I see now; the men thought I went and hid to get out of the light.”

“My dear boy,” cried the Colonel; “of course.”

“Oh,” cried Drummond, “what jolly fools the lads can be! But I say, sir, who’s hurt? and was old Bracy safe?”

A minute later the men cheered even louder than before, as they watched Drummond – a hero now in their midst – place a bag of powder to blow down the burning building and save the place from risk of the fire spreading.

That was soon done. It was a risky task, but bravely set about; and, as the place went up in a rush of flames and sparks, the assault from outside ceased, the enemy drawing off under cover of the mist; and an hour later silence fell upon the horrible scene of carnage, not even a bleat arising from the sheep.

But the fort was safe, the dim morning light showing the British flag, wet and clinging, but still hanging in its place upon the flagstaff; while by that time all save the doubled sentries upon the walls and the suffering wounded lay plunged in a heavy sleep wherever a place could be found roomy enough for the poor fellows’ aching limbs.

Chapter Twenty Two

Bracy’s Nurse

“Bracy, my dear old man!”

“My dear old chap!” These were the salutations of Drummond and Roberts later on in the morning, when they sought him out, to find him with Gedge in a portion of the soldiers’ quarters which had been temporarily turned into a hospital.

“Ah, Roberts,” sighed Bracy drowsily as he raised himself on one arm. “Not hurt, I hope?”

“Not a scratch. But you – you? Morton tells me you fought like a lion all through that horrible attack.”

“Like a very weak lion,” said Bracy, smiling faintly.

“But how are you?”

“Oh, so much better,” said the young officer, with a sigh. “I feel so restful, and as if I could do nothing but sleep.”

“Thank Heaven! But what a change in you!”

“And you, Drummond? But your face – blackened. Were you in that explosion I heard?”

“Yes; I helped to pop off the powder.”

“Helped!” cried Roberts. “Why, you placed the powder-bag and fired the fuse.”

“Well, what of that? Some one had to do it. I wasn’t hurt there, though, old man. It was in setting fire to the store and coaxing it into a blaze, for the blessed wood refused to burn. Spoiled my lovely looks a bit – eh? But I say – it’s harder work than you would think for to burn a – I say! Bracy, old chap! – Why, he’s asleep!”

“Fast,” said Roberts, looking wonderingly at their friend, who had sunk back on his rough pillow, formed of a doubled-up greatcoat, and was breathing deeply, with his face looking peaceful and calm.

“Here, I say, you, Bill Gedge,” cried Drummond; “this can’t be right. Go and fetch the Doctor.”

“No, sir; it’s all right, sir. The Doctor was here half-an-hour ago. He was fast as a top then; but he heard the Doctor speaking to me, and roused up while he had his wounds looked at. What d’yer think o’ that, sir?”

He drew a small, ragged scrap of something from his pocket, and held it out before the two officers.

“Nothing,” said Roberts shortly; “but I don’t like Mr Bracy’s looks. This can’t be right.”

“Doctor says it is, sir, and that it’s exhorschon. He’s to sleep as much as he can. You see, he had a horful night of it, sir, just when he wasn’t fit.”

“But how in the world could he fight like the Doctor says he did?”

“I dunno, sir,” replied Gedge, grinning. “Doctor says it was the excitement set him going, and then he couldn’t stop hisself. You know how he was a bit ago, gentlemen, when he hit out and kicked, and couldn’t help it.”

Roberts nodded.

“And he did fight wonderful, and never got a scratch. That’s what the Doctor said it was, and when he zamined his bandages he found this here under his back.”

“That! What is it?” said Drummond, now taking the object and examining it curiously.

“His complaint, sir, that kept him bad so long. The bit of iron the Doctor said he dursen’t try to get out. It worked out last night in the fight. He’s going to get well now.”

It was Roberts’s turn now to examine the little ragged scrap of discoloured iron.

“Seems wonderful,” he said, “that so trifling a thing as that should cause so much agony, and bring a man so low.”

“Oh, I dunno, sir,” said Gedge respectfully. “I had a horful toe once as got bigger and bigger and sorer till I couldn’t get a boot on, only the sole; and when my leg got as big as a Dan’l Lambert’s, some un says, ‘Why don’t you go to the orspital?’ he says, sir; and so I did, and as soon as I got there I began to wish I hadn’t gone, for there was a lot o’ doctors looked at it, and they said my leg must come off half-way up my thigh, but they’d wait a day or two first, and they did; but only the next morning one of ’em has another good look, and he gets out something – just a teeny bit of a nail as had gone into my toe out of my boot.”

“Humph!” said Roberts rather contemptuously.

“Lor’ bless yer, gentlemen, I was ’nother sort o’ feller that night, and was just like Mr Bracy here; hadn’t had no proper sleep for weeks, and there I was at it like one o’clock, going to sleep as you may say all over the place. Shouldn’t ha’ been here if it hadn’t been for that there doctor. Wouldn’t have had a one-legged un in the ridgiment, sir – would yer?”

“No,” said Roberts, who was leaning over and gazing at his sleeping comrade curiously. “Yes, he is sleeping as peacefully as a child. And what about you, Gedge?”