Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills. Fenn George Manville
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Here, you two,” he said to the injured privates lying upon a couple of charpoys, “I’ve brought you some visitors.”
Sergeant Gee’s wife, whose services had been enlisted as first nurse, rose from her chair, where she was busy with her needle, to curtsey to the visitors; and Gedge uttered a low groan as he caught up the light cotton coverlet and threw it over his head.
“Look at him,” said the Doctor merrily, and he snatched the coverlet back. “Why, you vain peacock of a fellow, who do you think is going to notice the size of your head?”
“I, for one,” said Bracy, smiling. “Why, Gedge, it is nothing like so big as it was.”
The lad looked at him as if he doubted his words.
“Ain’t it, sir? Ain’t it really?”
“Certainly not.”
“Hoo-roar, then! who cares? If it isn’t so big now it’s getting better, ’cos it was getting bigger and bigger last night – warn’t it, sir?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor; “but the night’s rest and the long sleep gave the swelling time to subside.”
“The which, please, sir.”
“The long sleep,” said the Doctor tartly.
“Please, sir, I didn’t get no long sleep.”
“Nonsense, man!”
“Well, you ask him, sir. I never went to sleep – did I, pardner?”
“No,” said his wounded companion. “We was talking all night when we wasn’t saying Hff! or Oh! or Oh dear! or That’s a stinger! – wasn’t we, Gedge, mate?”
“That’s right, pardner. But it don’t matter, sir – do it? – not a bit, as the swelling’s going down?”
“Not a bit,” said Bracy, to whom this question was addressed. “There, we are not going to stay. Make haste, my lad, and get well. I’m glad you are in such good quarters.”
“Thank ye, sir, thank ye. Quarters is all right, sir; but I’d rather be in the ranks. So would he – wouldn’t you, pardner?”
His fellow-sufferer, who looked doubtful at Gedge’s free-and-easy way of talking, glancing the while at the Doctor to see how he would take it, nodded his head and delivered himself of a grunt, as the little party filed out of the long, whitewashed, barn-like room.
“A couple of wonderful escapes,” said the Doctor, “and quite a treat. I’ve had nothing to see to but cases of fever, and lads sick through eating or drinking what they ought not to. But I dare say I shall be busy now.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” said Roberts as they returned to the great court of the large building. “Glad you’ve got such good quarters for your patients.”
“Thanks to you for coming,” replied the Doctor; and the parties separated, Drummond leading his new friends off to introduce them to some of the anxious, careworn ladies who had accompanied their husbands in the regiment, and of the Civil Service, who had come up to Ghittah at a time when a rising of the hill-tribes was not for a moment expected. On his way he turned with a look of disgust to Bracy.
“I say,” he said, “does your Doctor always talk shop like that?”
“Well, not quite, but pretty frequently – eh, Roberts?”
The latter smiled grimly.
“He’s a bit of an enthusiast in his profession, Drummond,” he said. “Very clever man.”
“Oh, is he? Well, I should like him better if he wasn’t quite so much so. Did you see how he looked at me?”
“No.”
“I did. Just as if he was turning me inside out, and I felt as if he were going all over me with one of those penny trumpet things doctors use to listen to you with. I know he came to the conclusion that I was too thin, and that he ought to put me through a course of medicine.”
“Nonsense.”
“Oh, but he did. Thank goodness, though, I don’t belong to your regiment.”
The young men were very warmly welcomed in the officers’ quarters; and it seemed that morning as if their coming had brought sunshine into the dreary place, every worn face beginning to take a more hopeful look.
Drummond took this view at once, as he led the way back into the great court.
“Glad I took you in there,” he said; “they don’t look the same as they did yesterday. Just fancy, you know, the poor things sitting in there all day so as to be out of the reach of flying shots, and wondering whether their husbands will escape unhurt for another day, and whether that will be the last they’ll ever see.”
“Terrible!” said Bracy.
“Yes, isn’t it? Don’t think I shall ever get married, as I’m a soldier; for it doesn’t seem right to bring a poor, tender lady out to such places as this. It gives me the shivers sometimes; but these poor things, they don’t know what it will all be when they marry and come out.”
“And if they did they would come all the same,” said Roberts bluffly.
“Well, it’s quite right,” said Bracy thoughtfully. “It’s splendidly English and plucky for a girl to be willing to share all the troubles her husband goes through.”
“So it is,” said Drummond. “I’ve always admired it when I’ve read of such things; and it makes you feel that heroines are much greater than heroes.”
“It doesn’t seem as if heroes were made nowadays,” said Bracy, laughing. “Hullo! where are you taking us?”
“Right up to the top of the highest tower to pay your respects to the British Raj. I helped the colour-sergeant to fix it up there. We put up a new pole twice as high as the old one, so as to make the enemy waxy, and show him that we meant to stay.”
“All right; we may as well see every place while we’re about it.”
“You can get a splendid lookout over the enemy’s camping-ground, too, from up here.”
“Then you still think that these are enemies?”
“Certain,” said Drummond; and words were spared for breathing purposes till the flag-pole was reached, and the young subaltern passed his arm round it and stood waiting while his companions took a good long panoramic look.
“There you are,” he then said. “See that green patch with the snow-pyramid rising out of it?”
“Yes; not big, is it?”
“Awful, and steep. That mountain’s as big as Mont Blanc; and from that deodar forest right up the slope is the place to go for bear.”
“Where are the pheasants?” asked Roberts, taking out his glass.
“Oh, in the woods down behind the hills there,” said Drummond, pointing. “Splendid fellows; some of reddish-brown with white spots, and bare heads all blue and with sort of horns. Then you come upon some great fellows, the young ones and the hens about coloured like ours, but with short, broad tails. But you should see the cock-birds. Splendid. They have grand, greeny-gold crests, ruby-and-purple necks, a white patch on their back and the feathers all about it steely-blue and green, while their broad, short tails are cinnamon-colour.”
“You seem to know all about them,” said Bracy, laughing.
“Shot lots. They’re thumpers, and a treat for the poor ladies, when I get any; but it has been getting worse and worse lately. Couldn’t have a day’s shooting without the beggars taking pop-shots at you from the hills. I don’t know where we should have been if their guns shot straight.”
“Well, we shall have to drive the scoundrels farther off,” said Roberts, “for I want some shooting.”
“Bring your gun?” cried Drummond, eagerly.
“Regular