The Gurkha examined him from head to foot.

"Hould the spalpeen up, Johnny, ye scutt!" advised an Irish corporal. To the astonishment of all, the little man calmly proceeded to place the giant on his back like a sack of potatoes. Thompson offered no objection, and Karbir was soon staggering from one group of laughing spectators to another. Suddenly upsetting the rifleman full length on the ground, he sat on his chest and proceeded to light his pipe, whereupon the onlookers shrieked. Thompson arose, tossing the Gurkha from his perch, and the two strolled back arm in arm, attempting to keep step, and quarrelling every few yards as to whose pace was at fault.

Reid had come behind the ensign, and was looking on with twinkling eyes.

Noting that Ted appeared astonished at Karbir's strength, he observed: "They're terribly strong are Gurkhas in the back, loins, and legs."

When they had settled down again one of the Nepalese observed:

"This war will soon be over. Jung Bahadur is going to march down to Lucknow with his army."

"An' 'oo the dickens is young Bardoor?" asked a rifleman.

"He is our prime minister and commander-in-chief in Nepal. He offered to bring an army down to help you English two months ago, and now the government has accepted his offer."

"An' so 'e's goin' to wipe out the rebels, eh, all hon 'is own 'ook?"

The Gurkha did not understand all this.

"What chance will those dogs have," said he, "against ten thousand Gurkhas? Truly, he will slay them all!"

"Bedad, then," interrupted an Irishman, "tell him, will ye, wid me compliments--Privut O'Brien's compliments--to lave a few fer us. Sure, we're wishful to git hould av some av thim Cawnpore and Lucknow haythen.

Tell him to bear that in moind."

Then the Gurkhas began to speak of their own beloved country of Nepal, by the mighty snow-clad Himalayas, of its wonderful beauty, and of its unequalled sport and wealth of animal life; and the Englishmen tried to explain the extent of their empire and the wonders of London, and told of their mighty ships of war and great sea-borne commerce. They also related the histories of their regimental colours, of the recent Crimean War, and of the fights between Wellington and the French. The Nepalese were very much interested in all the tales of war, for they also had tattered regimental colours of which they were very proud, and which had cost them many lives.[16]

[16] Before the end of the siege Riflemen and Gurkhas spoke of one another as "brothers", and at the close of the war the Sirmur Battalion begged that it might be granted a uniform similar to that of their brethren of the 60th, the request being willingly granted. The 2nd Gurkhas are very proud of the little red line on their facings, and the uniform thus gained at Delhi they wore in London at King Edward's Coronation forty-five years later.

By this time the Gurkha hospital was very full. More than half of those five hundred men had been stricken down, and the Guides had also suffered severely. And the great city still defied the British power.

A few more reinforcements were coming in, but no heavy guns had yet arrived. One or two new Sikh and Mohammedan cavalry corps and Punjab infantry regiments, recruited from the Sikhs, Punjabi Mohammedans, Jats, Pathans, and Dogras, as well as the Kumaon Gurkha Battalion (now the 3rd Gurkhas), were fighting on our side. The big Sikh horsemen, who were proud of their new uniform and despised the rebel cavalry, quickly snatched at opportunities to cover themselves with glory. The "Flamingoes", as Hodson's Horse were called, had not been in camp many days before they were in action, distinguishing themselves in a way that none but the very best of troops dare attempt. Faced by a greatly superior force, Hodson, with supreme confidence in the steadiness and valour of his men, feigned a retreat, and when he had drawn the enemy into the open by this manoeuvre, the Flamingoes turned round at his command and charged into the black mass. The foemen hesitated, confused and bewildered; they glanced at the steady line of stalwart, bearded cavaliers, heard the thunder of the galloping horses almost upon them, and were routed, broken and scattered before the oncoming of those determined Sikhs and Pathans.

Though daily witnessing such instances of dash and courage, Ted Russell marvelled less thereat than at the quiet indifference to peril displayed by the native servants. These men were not of the fighting castes: a dozen of them would have fled cringing from the anger of a single Englishman, Pathan, Sikh, or Gurkha. Yet, in such different ways is courage shown, they performed without flinching duties which most Britons would have shrunk from. They would sit at their work or at their meals in the most exposed places, with bullets flicking up the dust all round, no more concerned than a bullock would have been.

To bring meals and provisions to Hindu Rao's house they were forced to cross the dangerous "Valley of the Shadow of Death". Any soldier who might have to pass this spot would await the opportunity to dart across; but these mild non-combatants would calmly walk over, and should any of their number be struck down, would stop to shed a few tears over the corpse and then resume the even tenour of their way.

The army before Delhi was absolutely dependent on these servitors. In that terrible heat the English could not have existed without them; and yet, it must be sorrowfully confessed, they were occasionally ill-treated by some of the more churlish and lawless of those to whose wants they ministered. The boy who bullies at school remains often enough a bully when he has grown up. Bullies are generally stupid fellows, and in the eyes of such men one "nigger" was much the same as another, and the faithful brown servants had to suffer for the sins of the Cawnpore murderers. There was one man in particular, a major of the 15th Derajat Infantry, whose bullying propensities had more than once aroused indignation in the breasts of Ted's friends. Fortunately there were not many Englishmen of his stamp.

One day Ted was told off for picket duty with half a dozen men some distance from the "Sammy" House. When close to his lonely post his attention was attracted by the strange demeanour of a group of wild-looking frontiersmen, assembled in a sheltered hollow. He drew nearer, and perceived to his disgust that a miserable native servant had been tied up and was being flogged with bamboo rods, while a white officer looked on approvingly. Ted recognized the man, and his blood boiled. Taking no account of the difference in rank, he hastened to the spot, and hotly demanded what the poor fellow had been doing to deserve such treatment. The major of the Derajats--for he it was--opened his eyes in amazement, and his face became convulsed with anger. Controlling his rage he contemptuously asked:

"And who are you, little boy?"

Thereat one or two of the Punjabis laughed.

"I'm in command of this picket, sir, and I can't allow this where I'm responsible. Look! the poor beggar is fainting!"

The officer looked round--first at the miserable Hindu, whose back was a mass of bleeding weals, and then continued to gaze about him as though in search of someone.

"Where is she?" he asked at length. "I can't see her."

"Whom do you mean, sir?" asked Ted in bewilderment.

"Why, your nurse, of course; she'll be looking for you everywhere."

Our ensign's face flushed, and his temper rose at the insult. He turned to the Gurkha _naik_[17].

[17] Corporal.

"Karbir, cut that man loose!"

The little man promptly drew his kukri and cut the thongs. One of the Panjabis stepped forward and laid his hand on the naik to prevent him.

Karbir turned on him like a tiger, with kukri uplifted, and the Punjabi jumped back. The major could no longer restrain his anger. He stepped up to Ted and struck him across the mouth with clenched fist, loosening a couple of teeth and felling the lad to the ground. Quick as thought Karbir dashed at the Englishman, but Ted, from the ground, shrieked out just in time:

"Back, Karbir, you must not touch him!" and the little man reluctantly obeyed. Ted rose, now as white as he had before been red. The major laughed.

"Consider yourself fortunate, young man, if I take no further notice of your insolence. Do you know that you have been guilty of mutiny--rank mutiny--and that I could have you dismissed from the service? Now, you may go, and explain the loss of your teeth as you best please. No--stay!

I've not done with you yet. I'll teach you the difference in our rank.

Order that corporal of yours to tie up that beast again, and then command each of your men to give him half a dozen strokes."

Ensign Edward Russell cared a deal for his commission, and had no wish to be broken for disobedience, but this order he would not obey. His eyes gleamed as he scornfully cried:

"You great detestable brute! Break me if you can! I'd rather lose my commission as an officer than forget my duty as a gentleman!"

"Did you hear my command?" the major repeated.

Ted was silent. He glanced around, and beheld a tall, bearded man, whom he had never seen before--a man with stern and forbidding look, in untidy civilian attire. The major's glance followed, and an expression of annoyance came into his face as he noticed the stranger.

"Well, my good fellow, what do you want here?" he exclaimed.

"I? Oh, I'm just looking round."

"Oh! Then you'd better get back to whatever your business may be."

The man was silent for a moment.

"Won't that lad obey you?" he asked presently.

"No, that I shall not," Ted asserted firmly, though feeling very miserable.

"What right have you, lad," continued the stranger sternly, "to question your superior officer's commands? Your business is to obey."

"And obey he will," the major declared with an oath, "or I'll know the reason why!"

"That's right, sir," agreed the tall man. "Always insist on obedience from your juniors."

Ted was becoming nervous and feeling very lonely. Though assured he was in the right, the boy could not but feel unhappy.

The batteries of the Mori Bastion once more commenced their horrible work. Round-shot and grape whistled overhead.