Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

“Rigid, sir. That sounds good,” cried Gedge cheerily. “But about you, sir? If you get the ridgement o’ little chaps and saves the fort, it means your company, don’t it – Captain?”

Bracy groaned.

“I was not striving for promotion, Gedge, but to save our fellow-countrymen and women yonder. But listen: in case I faint again – give me a scrap or two more snow, my lad.”

He took and sucked the icy particles handed to him, and felt refreshed.

“Now, then,” he said; “listen once more, and be quick. Just tie that bandage, and then put the food together. I am not going to load you with instructions which you may not be able to carry out, but look yonder – there is the top of the mountain you have to skirt, shining bright and hopefully in the distance.”

“I can see it, sir.”

“That is your guide. Once you compass that the way will be easier.”

“Yes, sir. When ought I to start?”

“To-night, man, as soon as the sun is down; therefore, mark well where the bright peak lies, so as to take your bearings. The enemy’s fire will enable you to avoid that danger. Quick; there is no time to spare; and remember – you must get there.”

“Yes, sir; I won’t forget.”

“Leave me some cartridges to defend myself, if I can. It would be more like a soldier to die like that.”

“Yes, sir, o’ course; more English and plucky,” said Gedge, giving the last bandage its final knot, and then opening his haversack to take out what it contained and divide it.

“What are you doing?” said Bracy sharply.

“Getting your supper ready, sir, and mine,” said the lad coldly.

Bracy tried to raise himself up in the fit of anger which attacked him, but fell back with a groan. Fighting back the sensation of weakness, though, he spoke as firmly as he could.

“I want no food,” he said quietly, “and you are wasting time. A good twenty-four hours have been lost. Go at once.”

“But you must eat something, sir,” said Gedge stubbornly. “There’s the cold coming on awful now the sun’s down, and it will keep it out.”

“Those poor creatures at the fort are waiting and praying for help to come, while the hungry wolves of Dwats are crowding closer and closer in ready for the massacre.”

“Yes, sir – the beasts! – it’s precious hard, but let’s hope – ”

“There is no hope, Gedge. It was the last card the Colonel had to play in sending us, and we must not fail. You must go at once.”

“But I aren’t had nothing to-day, sir,” pleaded Gedge, “and my inside’s going mad. Wolves? Why, I feel just as if one was tearing me.”

“Take all the provisions left, and eat as you go.”

“And what about you, sir?”

“Never mind me. Go at once.”

“But it’ll be dark as pitch in ’alf-a-hour, sir. How am I to see my way?”

“I told you. The descent will be easy. You can almost slide down all the way, for the snow is getting glassy again, and you must guide yourself by leaving the enemy’s fire on the right. Look! it is glowing brightly now.”

“That’s right, sir, till I get to the bottom. But what then?”

“Gedge, are you going to fail me in this terrible emergency?”

“Not me, sir,” cried the lad excitedly. “I’ll stick to you till we both goes under fighting to the last, for they don’t want to make prisoners of us; their knives are too sharp.”

“Then go.”

“But I’m sure I couldn’t find the way, sir. I should be taking the first turning to the left, or else to the right, or tumbling into another hole like this, or doing some stoopid thing. I’m no use, sir, without my orficer to tell me what to do.”

Bracy drew a deep breath and pressed his lips together, as he fought hard to keep down his anger against his follower.

“I have told you what to do,” he said at last quite calmly. “You must use your brains.”

“Never had much, sir,” replied Gedge bitterly; “and now they’re about froze up with cold and hungriness and trouble. I ain’t fit to send on such a job as this, sir. I’m sure to muff it.”

“Do you want to find out some day, my lad, that those poor comrades of ours have been massacred to a man through your hanging back from doing what might have saved them?”

“I wish I may die if I do, sir!” cried Gedge passionately.

“Then go.”

“But I’m cold and hungry, sir, and it’s getting dark, and I don’t know my way.”

“Crush those feelings down like a hero, and go.”

“Hero, sir? Me a hero!” cried Gedge bitterly. “Oh? there’s none of that stuff in me.”

There was just enough light reflected from the upper peaks to enable the couple to see each other’s faces – the one frowning and angry, and belying the calm, stern fixedness into which it had been forced; the other wild, anxious, and with the nerves twitching sharply at the corners of the eyes and mouth, as if its owner were grimacing in mockery of the young officer’s helplessness and suffering.

“Gedge,” said Bracy suddenly, after making an effort as if to swallow down the rage and despair from which he suffered.

“Yes, sir, I know what you’re going to say; but you’re awful bad. Now, you have a bit to eat, and then go to sleep, and when you wake up let’s see if I can’t manage to get you on one of those flat bits o’ slaty stone, and then I’ll get a strap to it, and pull you down the slope – you’ll quite slide like – and when we’re off the snow I’ll pig-a-back you to the first wood, and we’ll hide there, and I’ll keep helping you on a bit till we get to this here Jack-and-Jill Valley. You see, the job can’t be done without you.”

“This is all shuffling and scheming, Gedge, to escape doing your duty,” said Bracy sternly.

“Is it, sir?” said the lad, with an assumption of innocence.

“You know it is, sir. You don’t want to go?”

“Well, sir, I suppose that is about the size of it.”

“Do you want me to look upon you as a contemptible cur?” said Bracy, flashing out into anger now.

“No, sir; o’ course not.”

“I see how it is. I’ve been believing you to be all that is manly and true, while all the time I’ve been labouring under a gross mistake, for now you are put to the test you are only base metal. Go; leave me. Gedge, you are a miserable, contemptible coward after all.”