CHAPTER XV

Ted's First Battle

General Anson, Commander-in-chief in India, had died a few days previously; his successor, General Barnard, received and read the despatch in silence.

He then looked up with stern face, but twinkling eyes. "Do you think, young gentlemen, that it shows good judgment to charge seventy horsemen with only six?" for the captain of the Carabineers had reported the incident to his chief.

Ted stammered out, "We didn't think, sir."

"Think! I should imagine not. You must learn caution, if ever you hope to get on in your profession."

The boys saluted and turned to go, when the general continued:

"Let me see; which of you was it who blew up the magazine at Aurungpore?"

Ted blushed as Alec replied. The general rose from his chair, shook hands solemnly as with an equal, and the ensign departed, his heart nearly bursting with pride. No amount of praise could have pleased him so much as did this simple act.

The dragoon captain found sleeping quarters for them and for their men, and they made a tour of the encampment. In the camp the British soldiers (for their six men were the only dark-skins), horse and foot, were gathered in groups talking over the strange changes that had occurred, and eagerly discussing the latest tidings. The slaughter of the helpless ladies and children in the city before them had maddened the men, and all vowed vengeance on the cruel foe.

"There's not a black regiment to be trusted, I don't care who they are,"

declared one.

"Oh, there may be some who are all right! we mustn't condemn the lot,"

replied another.

"Indeed! Who are your precious heroes, then?" sneered a third.

"Well, I don't know," the more hopeful red-coat replied; "but they say that the Guides and the Sirmur Battalion of Gurkhas are coming to help us."

"Guides and Gurkies be blowed! You'll just see; the niggers'll come as far as it suits them, then they'll kill their officers and march into Delhi. They ought to have been disarmed, Guides and Gurkies and everyone else, straight away."

"Hear, hear!" joined in the others. "We don't want no niggers helpin'

us."

"They don't know much about the Guides, do they, Ted?" Alec whispered.

"They don't. But they spoke of the Sirmur Gurkhas. I wonder whether they are coming here? My cousin Charlie Dorricot is with them, so I hope they are. He's a jolly beggar is Charlie."

"They say Gurkhas are always to be trusted," Alec replied; "and from what these fellows say, it's evident they haven't mutinied so far....

Hullo! what's up now? The 'Alarm'! By Jove, the pandies are attacking us!"

A bugle had sounded the 'Alarm'; the men sprang to their feet, rushed for their arms, and prepared to fall in. In an instant the whole camp was alive.

"What is it? Who are they?"

"Over there! Look! It's an attack on our rear."

The bugle blew again, and the alarm gradually subsided. All eyes were directed towards a body of men marching wearily, but with correct, well-drilled step, along the road leading towards the British camp. They seemed dark, very short of stature, and curiously attired, and that was all that could be made out. Though not Europeans, they were evidently friends, because the "Alarm" sounded by the first bugle had been contradicted by the second call.

And now that the sepoy regiments were proving false right and left, what Asiatic corps except the Guides could be trusted so near the head-quarters of the rebels? John Lawrence would take good care that no doubtful regiments should be sent to Delhi, and that no Mussulman nor Brahman of the Bengal army should be given such an excellent chance of turning traitor at the critical moment.

The strangers drew nearer, and the camp turned out to meet them. Then the word passed from lip to lip that these were the Gurkhas--Reid's Gurkhas.

"It's the Sirmur Battalion, Alec," said Ted; and he executed a little _pas seul_ to proclaim his delight.

"Who are they?" asked some of the Tommies. "Where 'ave they come from?

Can they fight?"

"Fight? Can't they just!" replied one of the knowing ones, a sergeant with a dozen years' Indian experience. "They come from Dehra Dun, up in the hills."

"I wouldn't give a dog-biscuit for all the native regiments in India," a young private declared. "They're all rotten with treachery."

"You'll never be commander-in-chief, Sammy," the sergeant retorted. "You know a dashed sight too much, and yet not 'arf enough. If you wasn't so ignorant you'd know that these Gurkies ain't natives but furriners in Injia same as us, livin' in a furrin country called Nepal, up amongst the Himalayas, which you've never 'eard on, I dare say. And the Gurky king ain't a subject of the queen, like the Injian rajahs and nawabs and nizams and such, but free and independent, like voters at an election.

I've fought side by side with 'em, Sammy, and they're as good pals on a battle-field as any chaps from Battersea."

Ted and Alec laughed at the sergeant's harangue, and strolled down the road to meet the reinforcements. The short-legged, tough, little Gurkhas were almost dropping from fatigue and heat. They had marched many, many miles that day under the scorching Indian sun, and they were no more accustomed to the heat of the plains than were their British comrades.

"Hurrah for the Gurkies! Three cheers for the little 'uns!"

The cry was taken up by hundreds of the red-coats, who were now lining both sides of the road, cheering again and again as the weary Mongolians marched sturdily through their ranks with soldierly swagger. The little fellows grinned and tried to cheer and joke in return, but, being dead beat and almost famishing, the attempt was a failure. Many British soldiers ran out to help their new allies along, by lending the support of an arm or shoulder.

"That's him, Alec!" Ted, regardless of grammar, informed his chum.

He made straight for a lieutenant of the Gurkhas, a tall, jolly-looking man of about five-and-twenty, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Please, sir," said the ensign, with great deference and as vacant an expression as possible, "is there an officer of this regiment of pandies named Dorricot, because he's wanted in camp."

"Pandies! you impudent puppy!" the enraged lieutenant replied.

"Pandies! I like your cheek! My name's Dorricot. Who wants me?"

"Please, sir, I think it's a tailor with a lot of unpaid bills--"

The lieutenant opened his mouth, and, gripping Ted's wrist, looked him squarely in the face. He burst into a laugh.

"Ted Russell! What on earth are you doing here, you cheeky chimpanzee?"

He wrung Ted's hand heartily, and was unceremoniously introduced to Paterson.

"What are you doing here, Ted?" Dorricot repeated. "Your regiment has mutinied, has it not?"

"Yes. Seeing we were at liberty, the general sent for Paterson and me to come and give him a lift. We're his military advisers, ain't we, Alec?"

"Oh, Ted's altogether too modest," said Paterson. "In reality he's the actual commander here, and General Barnard takes orders from him."