"Oh, that's it, is it?" Dorricot replied. "Well, look here, come to my tent as soon as we've settled down. I want to have a talk with you."

The Sirmur Battalion passed within the lines, and General Barnard himself came out to welcome them.

"Get something to eat sharp!" he exhorted Major Reid. "Sorry you're dead beat, but we may have to turn out at any moment."

Luckily this was not necessary, as the expected attack did not come off, and the tired Gurkhas were granted a few hours' well-earned rest. Soon after they had settled down our two ensigns paid the promised visit to Lieutenant Dorricot, and fought their battles over again, talking and laughing over their several adventures, interrupting, contradicting, and agreeing with one another as they discussed the situation and the causes that had combined to bring it about.

The elder cousin was full of a natural curiosity concerning Jim's engagement, soon persuading the ensign--and in truth it was no difficult matter--to give his opinion of Miss Woodburn, her accomplishments and attractions.

"Hullo!" interrupted Charlie, as the boy waxed particularly eloquent on the subject. "You're sure it's Russell Major who's in love, and not Russell Minimus."

Ted blushed, laughed outright, and sought to change the subject; but Charlie was determined to extract further information relating to his cousin's love affairs--a matter on which he was conventionally facetious.

"So you really think that old Jim's done well--eh, young Solomon?"

Dorricot resumed after a few moments' reflection.

"I tell you he's a jolly lucky chap!" declared the ensign emphatically.

"Jolly lucky, I should say. You should just have seen her when she whipped her pistol out as soon as that beggar had knifed me in the _bazar_!"

"What was that, Teddy? You never told me about that."

So our ensign related the incident with great gusto, and the elder cousin whistled as he heard of the girl's coolness.

"She's the right sort for Jim," he agreed, as Ted concluded the narration. "But I must be toddling off to bed now, I'm badly in need of some sleep. By-bye, young 'un!"

"Good-night, Charlie! It's just stunning to see you again. Jim'll be downright glad when he comes; he's bound to be here in a day or two now."

"His men must be rattling good marchers if he is! I hardly think it possible."

With a hearty handshake the cousins separated, the ensigns returning to their own quarters in the highest possible spirits, looking forward with great eagerness to the coming struggle.

A few days later General Barnard advanced and gave battle to the enemy at Badli-Ka-Serai, six miles from the city. Not a soldier there but was burning to meet the traitors, but none was more keen than the little Gurkhas, who, to the delight of the amused Tommies, turned somersaults and played leap-frog when they heard that an attack was to be made.

The multitudes of sepoys fought with courage and fierce determination, but were hurled back by the little army, which occupied position after position as the mutineers recoiled. At his cousin's request Ted was allowed to act with the Sirmur Battalion until the arrival of the Guide Corps, whose absence the boy greatly regretted.

"How mad they will be to have missed this!" he whispered to Charlie as they led the Gurkhas at the double to the foot of the ridge, where they halted and attempted to dislodge the enemy by rifle-fire. The bullets whistled around, and many a gallant fellow fell, and it must be confessed that our ensign felt uncomfortable. He hoped that this waiting "would jolly soon be over", but, with the eyes of the little Mongolians upon him, he scorned to show signs of flinching even when a bullet flattened on the stone beside him. The fire had little effect on the rebel regiments above; the swarthy faces seemed to glare down upon them in demoniacal fashion, defying their approach.

At length came the welcome order to storm the ridge. With a cheer Britons and Gurkhas rose and dashed up the slope, racing like school-boys for the top. The Gurkhas yelled and shrieked, challenging the 60th Rifles to the race; the English had no breath left for cheering, but they put in all they knew, not to be outdistanced by "them Gurky chaps". The little mountaineers, however, had had far more practice in rapid climbing than their British comrades, and were soon well in front, with Major Reid and Lieutenant Dorricot at their head.

Though Ted toiled manfully forward, he could only arrive at the top with the rear sections of his regiment, with whom were mixed the dark-coated English riflemen. The sepoys were standing no longer. Their ranks broken up by the furious charge from right and left, their guns taken and leaders slain, they dared no longer face the glistening bayonets and determined faces of vengeful Englishmen and furious Gurkhas, but broke and fled towards the city. After them ran the infantry, and in the plains below the cavalry charged and re-charged the flying mobs, scattering them again as they tried to reform. The battle of Badli-Ka-Serai was over.

[Illustration: BATTYE ROSE IN HIS STIRRUPS AND THUNDERED FORTH THE ORDER TO CHARGE]

CHAPTER XVI

The Post of Honour

A great victory had been won! The temper of the men had been tested and found true as steel; the only loyal dark-faced battalion had been tried and found worthy to rank side by side with the steadiest of English or Highland regiments. The praises of the Gurkhas were in every mouth.

Besides these tests two great material advantages had been gained. This was the first. Less than a mile from the walls the Aravelli range of hills ended, and underneath this ridge lay the place where the troops had dwelt before the mutiny. Had the enemy not been driven from the Ridge, the old cantonments and parade-ground could not have been occupied, as they would have been swept by the fire from above.

Now that the Ridge had been won, however, the army could safely rest below, protected by the high ground from the fire of the heavy guns on the Delhi bastions.

In the second place, the rebels had not only been disheartened by their first defeat, but the tidings would quickly spread all over India that the English were still strong enough to defeat thrice their number. This news would be worth a thousand men, for people were saying that Allah had deprived the Feringhis of their strength, that they were _lachar_ (helpless), and could no longer fight.

The rebel stronghold lay before the victors, vast, powerful, and filled with myriads of brave and warlike men. Well might they be defiant, for what could that tiny army achieve against their great strength. For you must know that by all the rules of warfare an army attacking a strongly-fortified place should be much more numerous than the defending host, and have more powerful or quite as powerful artillery. The assailants should be able to surround the place to prevent the entrance of food or reinforcements. But the walls of Delhi measured seven miles in circumference; the army investing it could with difficulty guard its own quarters, and rebel reinforcements entered as they pleased. Though we were supposed to be engaged in an assault on Delhi, yet in reality, during that summer of 1857, we were on our defence--the defenders of the Ridge against countless rebel attacks.

At the southern extremity of the Ridge stood a large mansion, built many years ago by a Mahratta gentleman named Hindu Rao. This house, strong and well built, commanded a good view of Delhi, and all movements could be observed therefrom. No force could issue from the walls to surprise the camp or retake the Ridge without being noticed by the picket holding the position. So Hindu Rao's house became the post of honour, and the post of honour is always the post of danger. Less than 1200 yards from the mansion the 24-pounders of the Mori bastion overlooked the Ridge, and the house presented an easy target for the shot and shell of the huge guns.

The little cannon of our soldiers were as pop-guns compared to these monsters, and not only was the advantage in size, but the sepoys possessed a dozen heavy guns for every light one of ours, besides vast stores of ammunition and material of war. The walls had been further strengthened not many years before by English engineer officers, who had made a glacis that protected all except the top ten feet of the walls from injury by shot or shell.

A glacis is a huge bank of earth sloping outwards from the walls, and not only does it shield the lower portions, but, should an enemy attempt to escalade the walls or carry the city by assault, they would first have to run up this glacis, and there they would present such a target that trained gunners could sweep the assailants away by hundreds.

The engineers, who had so skilfully and carefully constructed these defences, little thought that their handiwork would merely serve to keep India in a ferment for many months. The batteries were manned by artillerymen who had learned their profession--and learned it, alas! too well--under the tuition of English officers. Within the walls were more than 20,000 trained and disciplined sepoys, men who had proved their valour on many a well-fought field, not to mention thousands on thousands of armed fanatics, warriors by birth and by tradition. All these fought under shelter, which our brave fellows lacked. But ours were British, "strong with the strength of the race to command, to obey, to endure", save the one Gurkha battalion and the Guide Corps (now close at hand), and these were soon admitted as equals by the British soldiers.

The British army was small--very small--but the lack of powerful artillery was an even greater source of weakness. An army without artillery, matched against even an equal force well supplied with powerful guns, would have as much chance of success as a man armed with a light cane fighting another possessed of sword and revolver.

Thousands of people in England and in India, who eagerly devoured the news and anxiously awaited the fall of the capital, impatiently asked, "Why are they so long? Why don't they take the city?" These worthy folks could not understand the difficulties; they could not realize that mere pluck and endurance avail nothing against stone walls and mighty cannon.

As the weeks rolled by and Delhi was still untaken, other persons, still more ignorant, exclaimed, "Why don't they leave Delhi if they can't capture it, and go and help Sir Henry Lawrence at Lucknow?" They did not see that even if that small army appeared to be doing little, it still kept shut up in the city forty thousand armed rebels who might otherwise be spreading over the country conquering and slaying. Nor did they grasp the fact that had the English army left Delhi unconquered the warlike Punjab, and then all India, would have risen. To have left the Mogul capital would have been a confession of weakness; it would have been to say: "We are beaten, we can do nothing here", and when once the English say that in India, their empire will collapse.

So, though Barnard's handful was attacking Delhi contrary to all the rules of war, we must remember what Mr. Rudyard Kipling has pointed out, that had our British generals never acted against those rules the boundaries of the empire would have stayed at Brighton beach.

It will be readily understood, even by boys who have engaged in no battles save those in which snow-balls form the most dangerous missiles, that this ridge of elevated ground was of the highest importance. Had the rebels been able to retake it and plant guns thereon, the British camp would have been at their mercy, and the Punjab would have been ablaze. As the Ridge defended the British army, so Hindu Rao's house defended the Ridge.

Let us rejoin the comrades we had left victorious after the battle of Badli-ka-Serai. The army now occupied its old parade-ground below the Ridge, and our friends, who had escaped uninjured, were awaiting further orders, when Major Reid, who had been conversing with the general, came towards them, his face aglow.

"Grand news, Dorricot!" he shouted. "The Sirmur Battalion is to defend that house," pointing to the distant mansion of Hindu Rao.

"Score for our Gurkhas!" Dorricot shouted back.

"What do you think of that, youngsters?" he continued, turning to Ted and Alec. "I feel as though I'd been made a K.C.B. at least. We must fall the men in and be off."

The Gurkha bugles sounded and the battalion fell in, whilst their commandant informed them that the general had paid them the great compliment of selecting them for the post of honour, and he had no doubt that they would show themselves in every way worthy to uphold the traditions of their race. The little men grinned, well pleased, as their officer went on to warn them that it would also be the post of danger; that upon the house of Hindu Rao would fall the brunt of all the rebel attacks, and that the building would be the main target for the Delhi artillery.

The little men huzzaed at the prospect. The fiercer the battle waging around them the better pleased would they be. They meant to hold their post tooth and nail.

"What plucky little fiends they are!" Alec whispered. "Danger evidently appeals to them as a most delightful prospect."

When the news spread that the Gurkhas had been awarded the post of honour, the soldiers assembled to cheer their comrades from the mountains of Nepal as they marched away. Never did general make a wiser selection. Prominent amidst the glorious achievements during the siege of Delhi stands out the dogged pluck of the Gurkha picket, who successfully held the house of Hindu Rao during a hundred days of terrific fighting and bombardment, though only a handful escaped death or wounds.

Rooms were apportioned to the various ranks, and the Sirmur men were speedily settled in their new quarters. Ted and Charlie strolled round the mansion, and, gazing upon the Imperial City, entered into an argument respecting their distance from the big cannon of the Mori bastion.

They were still disputing, when a pleasant-looking, gentlemanly young Gurkha officer joined them, and, jerking our ensign round by his jacket collar to face the new-comer, Charlie observed:

"I ought to have introduced you two before. Goria Thapa, can you guess who the ensign sahib is? He is Ensign Russell, son of your father's comrade, of whom you have often heard. Ted, this is Jemadar Goria Thapa, son of Jaspao Thapa, your guvnor's great pal of 1815."

Goria Thapa's jolly countenance became wreathed in grins. He held out his hand, saying: