Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

“Wonderfully,” came in a chorus.

“And frightfully modest,” whispered Drummond.

“Eh! what is that, Mr Drummond?” cried the Doctor. “I heard what you said. Don’t you offend me, for you may come under my care some day. Now, then, all of you – wonderfully successful. Yes, Mr Drummond, and modest too, as you’ll own if you’ll let me finish my remarks before you stick yourself up as a judge. For I’m going to let the cat out of the bag.”

“Let’s have her, Doctor,” cried the younger men merrily.

“Here she is, then,” said the Doctor. “My colleague. She has done ten times as much for the wounded as I have.”

“He means Mrs Gee,” said Bracy quietly. “Well, she is a splendid nurse.”

“Ha! what a woman!” said the Colonel. “She is quite well now, Doctor – is she not?”

“Always is,” said the Doctor. “Absolutely perfect.”

“I don’t understand you, Doctor. The poor woman suffered a great deal in her daring defence of her patients.”

“Hah! we’re playing at cross purposes,” said the Doctor importantly. “You’re talking about Mrs Gee.”

“Of course. Weren’t you?”

“Pish! Poo! Bah! No. I meant my great help and patroness Dame Nature.”

“Oh!” ran round the table, in disappointed tones.

“Yes, gentlemen,” repeated the Doctor; “Dame Nature. She has set all my wounded right again, and put it to my credit. Why, if the poor fellows had been in stuffy barracks down in the hot plains they’d have died like flies. But up here, in this wonderfully pure mountain air, all I have to do is to see that the wounds are carefully bandaged, and cuts and bullet-holes grow up and together again in no time. As for the hill-men, their surgeon seems to be the next man, who operates with a bit of rag.”

“And kills or cures at once,” said Roberts, smiling.

“Exactly,” said the Doctor good-humouredly; “but really it’s wonderful how Nature does nearly all the work. Well, any news, Colonel?”

“About the enemy?”

“Yes; you’ve been doing nothing lately, and my last bed was vacated to-day.”

“I am very sorry that you should be in so low a condition, Doctor,” said the Colonel coldly; “but you must understand that I shall do my best to keep you so.”

“Why, of course,” cried the Doctor. “You don’t suppose I want to have the poor fellows cut or shot down to keep me busy – do you?”

“You spoke as if you did?”

“Then I spoke clumsily,” cried the Doctor. “But tell me – the Dwats are collecting again – are they not?”

“Yes; they mean to give us no rest.”

“So much the better for the men. Keep ’em active. You boys had any sport to-day?”

“Yes; we got six mountain sheep,” said Roberts.

“Safe into camp?” said the Doctor eagerly.

“Oh yes. It was hard work, though; for three of them fell right down into one of the deepest gorges from the snow-slope on which we shot them – splendid shots Drummond made after our stalk, he killed with right and left barrels. My one dropped at the first shot, but sprang up and was going off again till my second barrel stopped him.”

“Had an awful job to get them out of the gorge and home; but the hunters fetched them out, and we got all safe into quarters.”

“Ha!” cried the Doctor; “I’m glad of that. Splendid gamy meat, that mountain mutton. Glorious stuff for convalescents. It gives me the heartache when I hear of you leaving lost ones to the wolves and vultures.”

“I quite agree with the Doctor about the quality of the mutton,” said the Colonel gravely; “but I’m getting anxious about these shooting-trips, gentlemen. Your guides belong to one or other of the tribes.”

“Yes, I suppose they do, sir,” said Roberts carelessly.

“Well, what is to prevent them from leading you some day into a trap, and, instead of the news coming into mess of there being an extra supply for the larder, I hear that I am minus two or three of my best officers?”

“I don’t know about best officers, sir,” said Roberts, laughing; “but I don’t think there is anything to fear. These hill-shikarees are very genuine fellows, and their intense love of the sport will keep them honest and true to us. You cannot think how proud they are of leading us to the quarry if we are successful.”

“I grant all that,” said the Colonel, “knowing as I do what a freemasonry there is in sport, and how clever hunters have a feeling of fellowship for men of their own tastes, whatever their religion; but you must not forget that the hill-tribes are completely under the thumb of their Mullahs, and that the will of these priests is the law which they must obey. Supposing one of these Mullahs to give them orders in the interest of their tribe, they would lead you into an ambush for a certainty.”

“Oh, Colonel Graves,” cried Drummond, “this is spoiling the only pleasure we have!”

“I hope not,” said the Colonel, smiling gravely. “Set it down to interest in my officers’ welfare. I only ask you to be careful – well on your guard – and not to do anything rash.”

“Just as if it was likely that we should do anything rash,” said Drummond pettishly later on. “I’m sure I’m always as careful as can be.”

“Always!” said Roberts, laughing, and giving Bracy a peculiar look.

“Here, I say – what does that mean? You two are chaffing me again.”

“Oh dear, no,” said Bracy. “Our consciences are smiting us for being so reckless, and we’re making up our minds to be more careful in future.”

“Yes, as the Colonel suggests,” chimed in Roberts, “and take friend Drummond o’ that ilk for our example.”

“Here! Yes, you are chaffing me,” cried Drummond anxiously. “I say, old chaps, though – you don’t think I am rash, do you?”

“Rather,” said Roberts.

“Bosh with your rather! Chaff, because I’m so tall and thin. Bracy, you’re not half such a boy as the Captain. You don’t think I’m wild and harum-scarum, do you – regularly rash?”

“Well, to speak frankly,” – began Bracy.

“Of course I want you to be frank,” cried Drummond hastily. “That’s why I like you chaps.”

“Well, then, my dear boy,” said Bracy, “I do think you are about the most rash fellow I ever met.”

“Oh!” cried Drummond, with a look of distrust.

“You do things that no thoughtful fellow would ever think of doing.”

“I? Come now; when?”