THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES PZ7 .^[^'/ERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL t j 00023571 92 This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it nnay be renewed by bringing it to the library. ss? ^'^^^ RET DUE "^^■ m 1 Ann 2i ; 1999 III 08 'P '9 ^- ' r '^■^nn ' Li}m NOV ■] 200^ M ^ '^^ AUG 01 7 003 ■ ' ■ \ !y|08 2 (b SEP 4 2G04 FEB 1 4 7n^ 17 -~ — OCI 23?M7 ^ Form No 513 Rev 1--34 « \^y i (4 ^^^ ■a z;^ /.///^ ., -/ '//■///. ^^///^/' //^'^-^^ /->^x^ ^ THE DASH FOR KHARTOUM. MR. HENTY'S HISTORICAL TALES. Crown 8vo, Cloth elegant, Olivine edges. Each Book is beautifully Illustrated. The Cat op Bubastes : A Story of Ancient Egypt. 5s. The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of Hannibal. 6s. For the Temple : A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. 6.s. The Lion of St. Mark: A Story of Venice in the 14th Century. 6s. The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the Wars of Religion. 6s. In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy during the French Revolution. 5.s. The Dragon and the Raven : Or, The Days of King Alfred. 5s. In Freedom's Cause : A Story of Wallace and Bruce, es. St. George for England : A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. 5s. By Pike and Dyke : A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic. 6s. Under Drake's Flag : A Tale of the Spanish Main. 6s. Orange and Green : A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. 5s. Bonnie Prince Charlie : A Tale of Fontenoy and CuUoden. Os. The Bravest of the Brave: Or, With Peterborough in Spain. 5s. With Wolfe in Canada : Or, The Winning of a Continent. 6s. With Clive in India : Or, The Beginnings of an Empire. 6s. True to the Old Flag : A Tale of the American War of Inde- pendence. 6s. One of the 28th : A Story of Waterloo. 5.s. Through the Fray : A Story of the Luddite Riots. Qs. By Sheer Pluck : A Tale of the Ashanti War. 5s. For Name and Fame : Or, Through Afghan Passes. 5s. With Lee in Virginia : A Story of the American Civil War. Gs. London: ELACKIE & SON, Limited; Glasgow and Edinburgh. THE DASH FOR KHARTOUM: A TALE OF THE NILE EXPEDITION. G. A. HENTY, Author of "WitU Clive in India;" "True to the Old Flag;'' "Bonnie Prince Charlii "By Sliecr Pluck;" "Facing Death;" "One of the 28th;" &c. WITH TEN PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOSEF FI NASH, R.I. AND JOHN SCHUNBERG. >t,uccm liiljr ;i -'■jcnunamug's *==3p - ».Wj_ri —Tz: ^==^ \^^o ,5%^ #• v^ , ' it^ LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 49 OLD BAILEY, E.G. GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN. 1892. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil http://www.archive.org/details/dashforkhartoumtOOhent PREFACE. My dear Lads, The story of the Nile Expedition is so recent that no word, of introduction is necessary to the historical portion of the tale. The moral, such as it is, of the story of the two lads brought up as brothers is — Never act in haste, for repent- ance is sure to follow. In this case great anxiety and unhap- piness were caused through a lad acting as he believed for the best, but without consulting those who had every right to a voice in the matter. That all came right in the end in no way affects this excellent rule, for all might have gone wrong. We are often misled by a generous impulse, more often perhaps than by an evil one, but the consequences may be just as serious in the one case as the other, \yhen in trouble you should always go freely to your best friends and natural advisers, and lay the case fully before them. It may be that, if the trouble has arisen from your own fault, you will have to bear their tem- porary displeasure, but this is a small thing in comparison with the permanent injury that may arise from acting on your own impulse. In most cases, cowardice lies at the bottom of concealment, and cowardice is of all vices the most contemp- tible; while the fear of the displeasure of a parent has ruined many a boy's life. Therefore, when you are in serious trouble always go to your best friend, your father, and lay the case frankly and honestly before him; for you may be sure that present displeasure and even punishment are but small things in comparison with the trouble that may arise from trying to get out of the difficulty in other ways. Yours sincerely, G. A. HENTY C O N T E N T S. CuAP. Page I. Mixed! 11 II. At Cheltenham, 27 III. Gone, 47 IV. Back at School, 65 Y. Enlisted, 84 A'l. Egypt, 97 VII. El-Teb, 116 VIII. Tamanieb, 134 IX. The Camel Corps, 144 X. An Unexpected Meeting, 165 XI. Abu Klea, 183 XII. Metemmeh, 201 XIII. Abu Keu, 218 XIV. A Slave, 235 XV. B.>lD News, 253 XVI. In Disguise, 270 XVII. A Runaway Slave, 288 XVIII. The Zakeba, 306 XIX. A Long Search, 325 XX. Found! 340 XXI. Home! 359 ILLUSTRATIONS. Pago "The AVoman placed herself in his "Way," 50 "Edgar struck him with all his strength," 102 "With a desperate rush they reached the Sailors," . . 123 Towing the Boats up the Nile, 163 At the Wells of Gakdul, 184 "The Arabs with wild yells charged upon the Square,". 196 "Good-bye, lad, and God bless you!" 210 t "A shot had passed through her boiler," 263 ■■-*-- &-v,J.. The Army of Hicks Pasha on the March, 342 "It is Rupert's voice, but it cannot be Eupert!" . . . 357 Plan— Port of Suakim, 122 ,, Battle of El-Teb, 29th Feb. 1884, ,, „ Battle of Tamai, 13tli Mar. 1884, 138 Battle of Abu Klea, I7tli Jan. 1885, ,, s^-:^":i'J X fc::,a«tee 5i THE DASH FOE KHARTOUM; A TALE OF THE NILE EXPEDITION. CHAPTER I. MIXED ! N a room in the married non-commissioned officers' quarters in the cantonments at Agra, a young woman was sitting looking thoughtfully at two infants, who lay sleeping together on the outside of a bed with a shawl thrown lightly over them. Jane Hum- phreys had been married about a year. She was the daughter of the regimental sergeant-major, and had been a spoilt child. She was good looking, and had, so the wives and daughters of the other non-commissioned officers said, laid herself out to catch one of the young officers of the regiment, and was bit- terly disappointed at the failure of her efforts. The report may have been untrue, for Jane Farran was by no means popular with the other women, taking far too much upon herself, as they considered, upon the strength of her father's rank, and giving herself airs as if she were better than those around her. There were girls in the regiment just as good looking as she was without any of her airs and tempers. Why should she set herself up above the rest ? When, however, Sergeant-major Farran died suddenly of 12 THE sergeant's WIFE. sunstroke after a heavy field-day, whatever plans and hopes his daughter may have entertained came to an end. Her name and that of her mother were put down among the women to be sent, with the next batch of invalids, home to England, and she suddenly accepted the offer of marriage of young Sergeant Humphreys, whose advances she had previ- ously treated with scorn. They were married six weeks later, on the day before her mother was to go down by train with a party of invalids to Calcutta. The universal opinion of the women in the regiment was that the sergeant had got a bad bargain. " No man of spirit," one of them said, " would have taken up with a girl who only accepted him because she could not do any better. She has got her temper written in her face, and a nice time of it he is likely to have." It may have been true that Jane Humphreys had during her father's lifetime had her ambitions, but she was a clever woman and adapted herself to her circumstances. If, as the sergeant-major's daughter, she had given herself airs, and had thrown herself in the way of the young officers, and had been light and flighty in her manner, all this was changed as soon as she was married, and even the most censorious were obliged to admit that she made Sergeant Humphrej's a better wife than they had expected. His home was admirably kept, the gay dresses that had been somewhat beyond her station were cut up and altered, and she dressed neatly and quietly. She was handy with her fingers, her things always fitted her well, and she gained the approbation of the officers' wives, who had previously looked upon her with some disfavour as a for- ward young person. She made every effort to get on good terms with the wives of the other non-commissioned officers, and succeeded at last in overcoming the prejudice which, as Jane Farran, she had excited. There was no doubt that she was a clever woman, and it was equally beyond doubt that she completely managed her husband. She was much his superior in education, and possessing far greater abilities could twist "WHICH IS YOURS, JOHN?" 13 him round her little finger, although she did it so cleverly that he never suspected that he was the victim of such an operation. A month previous to the opening of the story she had been confined of a boy, and two days later Mrs. Clinton, the wife of the captain of her husband's company, also became a mother. Before the week was over Mrs. Clinton was taken dangerously ill, and as it was impossible for her to nurse her child, the surgeon of the regiment recommended that it should be given into the charge of the sergeant's wife, as she, being a strong and healthy young woman, could very well nurse it as well as her own. It was a month after this that Sergeant Humphreys, returning to his quarters, found his wife sitting by the side of the bed on which the two infants were asleep. " They are as alike as two peas," he said as he looked at them. "I am sure I wonder, Jane, that you know which is which! " Mrs. Humphreys' answer did not seem to the point. " Cap- tain Clinton is a rich man, is he not, John 1 " "Yes; they say he came into a grand estate two years ago when his father died, and that like enough he will leave the regiment when it goes home next year." "Then one of those babies will be a rich man, and the other — " and she stopped, "The other will, I hope, be a non-commissioned officer in the 30th Foot one of these days," the sergeant said. Jane looked up at her husband. There was no touch of envy or dis- content in his voice. She was about to speak but checked herself. " Which is yours, John? " she asked a moment later, returning to his first remark. " I am sure I could not tell," he said with a laugh. " Babies are mostly pretty much alike, and as these two are just the same age, and just the same size, and have both got gray eyes and light coloured hair — if you can call it hair, — and no noses to speak of, I don't see a pin's point of difference." A month later a small party were assembled in Captain 14 "WHAT IN THE WORLD IS TO BE DONEl'' Clinton's bungalow. Mrs. Humphreys was standing with a baby in each arm. Mrs. Clinton was lying upon a sofa crying bitterly. Captain Clinton was walking up and down the room, hot and angry. The surgeon of the regiment was standing grave and sympathetic by Mrs. Clinton. Sergeant Hum- phreys was in the attitude of attention by the door, with an anxious troubled expression on his face. "What in the world is to be done, doctor?" Captain Clinton asked. " I never heard of such a thing, it is a most serious business." "I can quite see that," the doctor replied. "When Mrs. Humphreys came to me and asked me to break the news to you, I told her at once that it was a terrible business. I own that I do not see that she is altogether to blame, but it is a most imfortunate occurrence. As I have just told you, she had, when she put the children to bed, put your child in one of her baby's night-gowns, as it happened there were none of your child's clean. In the morning she took them out and laid them on a rug on the ground before beginning to wash and dress them. She went out to the canteen to get something for her husband's breakfast, and when she returned she could not remember the order in which she had taken them out of bed and laid them down, and could not distinguish her own child from yours." " You must remember, Mrs. Humphreys," Captain Clinton broke in; "think it over, woman. You must remember how you laid them down." "Indeed, I do not, sir; I have been thinking all the morning. I had nursed them two or three times during the night, and of course had changed their position then. I never thought about their having the same night-gowns on. If I had, of course I should have been more careful, for I have said to my husband over and over again that it was only by their clothes that I should know them apart, for if they had been twins they could not be more alike." "A TERRIBLE BUSINESS." 15 "This is downright maddening!" Captain Clinton exclaimed, pacing up and down the room. " And is there no mark nor anything by which they can be recognized? Why, bless me, woman, surely you as a mother ought to know your own child ! " Mrs. Humphreys shook her head. "I have nursed them both, sir, and which is mine and which is yours I could not say to save my life." " Well, put the children down on that sofa," Captain Clinton said, "and take yourself off for the present; you have done mischief enough for a lifetime. I will let you know what we decide upon later on." " Well, doctor, what on earth is to be done 1 " he asked after the door had closed upon the sergeant and his wife. " What do you think had best be done, Lucy ? " But Mrs. Clinton, who was but just recovering from her ill- ness, was too prostrated by this terrible blow to be able to offer any suggestion. " It is a terrible business indeed, Clinton," the doctor said, "and I feel for j^ou most deeply. Of course the possibility of such a thing never entered my mind when I recommended you to let Mrs. Humphreys act as its foster-mother. It seemed at the time quite a providential circumstance that she too should be just confined, and in a position to take to your baby. The only possible suggestion I can offer is that you should for a time bring up both boys as your own. At present they are certainly wonderfully alike, but it is probable that as they grow up you will see in one or other of them a likeness to yourself or your wife, and that the other will take after its own parents. Of course these likenesses do not always exist, but in nine cases out of ten some resemblance can be traced between a boy and one or other of his parents." " That certainly seems feasible," Captain Clinton said in a tone of relief. " What do you say, dear"? It is only bringing up the two children for a time till we are able to be certain 16 "THAT WILL BE ALMOST AS BAD." which is our own. The other will have had the advantage of a good education and so on, and of course it will be our busi- ness to give him a good start in life." " It will be awful having the two children, and not knowing which is our own." " It will be very unpleasant," Captain Clinton said soothingly; " but, you see, in time you will come to care for them both just as if they had been twins." "That will be almost as bad," Mrs. Clinton cried feebly. "And suppose one gets to love the wrong one best?" "We won't suppose that, dear; but if we love them both equally, we will, when we find out which is ours, treat the other as an adopted child and complete his education, and start him in life as if he were so. Fortunately the expense will be nothing to us." "But this woman has a right to one of them." " She does not deserve to have one," Captain Clinton said angrily; " but of course we must make some arrangement with her. She is bound to do her best to repair the terrible mis- chief her carelessness has caused. Well, doctor, we will think it over for an hour or two, but certainly your suggestion seems by far the best for us to adopt." " The hussy ! " the doctor said as he walked away to his quarters. "I am more than half inclined to believe that she has done it on purpose. I never liked the jade before she married, though I own that she has turned out better than I expected. But I always thought her a designing and artful young woman, and gave her credit for plenty of brains, and what could suit her purpose better than this change of children 1 She would see that in the first place she would get her own boy well brought up, and perhaps provided for, with all sorts of chances of making money out of the affair. It may have been an accident, of course, but if so, it was a wonderfully fortunate one for her." Such was the opinion among the women of the regiment (650) "NOT IN THE SMALLEST DEGREE." 17 when the news became known, and Jane Humphreys was speedil}^ made aware of the fact by the change in their man- ner towards her. They had, however, but small opportunity for demonstrating their opinion, for Mrs. Humphreys remained shut up as much as possible in her room, and the one or two women who were inclined to take a favourable view of the matter and so called upon her, reported that she was com- pletely prostrated by the occurrence. Among the officers and their families the greatest commiseration was felt for Captain Clinton and his wife, and the matter was discussed at tiffin that day with great animation. " Don't you think, doctor, that a woman must know her own child]" a young ensign asked. "Not at all, Arbuthnot; that is to say, not if you mean that she would know it by any sort of maternal instinct. There is no such thing. She has no more means of telling her own infant out of a dozen others of similar complexion, age, and appearance, than she would have of picking out her own pocket-handkerchief out of a dozen others of similar pat- tern if they were all unmarked." " But a sheep can pick out his own lamb among a hundred, doctor, and I am sure they are alike as so many peas. Surely that must be maternal instinct 1 " "Not in the smallest degree, Arbuthnot. The sheep and other animals possess in a very high degree a sense which is comparatively rudimentary in human beings. I mean, of course, the sense of smell. A sheep knows her lamb, and a cow knows her calf, neither by the sense of hearing or by that of sight. She recognizes it solely and wholly by her sense of smell, just as a dog can track its master's footsteps out of a thousand by the same sense. The two babies are as alike as twins; and I am not surprised that, if they really got mixed, this woman should not be able to detect one from the other." " It is an awful thing for Clinton," the major said, " Here he has got a splendid estate, and he will never be certain (660) B 18 "WE MUST HOPE IT WILL BE SO." whether his own son or a stranger is going to inherit it after him. It is enough to make a man go out of his mind." "I don't see that that would be likely to mend matters," the doctor said dryly; "in fact it would lessen the one chance that exists of ever setting the matter straight. As I have told him, though these children are very much alike at present — and indeed most babies are — it is probable that as they grow up there will no longer be any resemblance whatever, and that his own child will develop a likeness either to him or Mrs. Clinton, while the other child will resemble the sergeant or his wife." " We must hope it will be so," the major said, " though there are lots of fellows who don't resemble in the least either of their parents. But what is Clinton going to do about it?" " He has not settled yet. His wife was in no condition to discuss the matter, poor lady! My suggestion was that he should bring up both the children as if they were his own, until one or other of them develops this likeness that I was speaking of." "I suppose that is the best thing they can do, doctor; but it will be an awful business if, as they grow up, no likeness to anybody can be detected in either of them." "Well, major, although at present it does seem an awful thing, it won't seem so bad at the end, say, of twenty years. They will naturally by that time be as fond of one as the other. The boys, in fact, will be like twins; and I suppose the property can be divided in some such way as it would be were they really in that relation to each other." "But, you see, doctor," one of the captains said, "Mrs. Humphreys has to be considered to a certain extent too. It is hard on Mrs. Clinton; but if she gets both boys she is certain at any rate that one of them is her son, and Mrs. Humphreys will, by that arrangement, have to lose her child altogether. That seems to me pretty rough on her," CAPTAIN CLINTON'S DETERMINATION. 19 " Well, she brought it on herself," the doctor replied. " The whole thing has arisen from her carelessness." "Do you think it was carelessness, doctor"?" the major asked. " That is a matter on which I will give no opinion, major. It is one upon which one man can form a judgment as well as another. The thing may very well have happened in the way she describes; and again it may be a very cunningly devised plot on her part. It is evident she had everything to gain by such an accident. She would get her child taken off her hands, educated, and provided for. She would calculate no doubt that she would be their nurse, and would expect, in return for giv- ing up her claim to one or other of them, some very distinct monetary advantages. I do not at all say that the affair was not an accident. Upon the contrary, I admit that it was an ac- cident which might very well happen under the circumstances. What I do say is, nothing could have turned out better for her." Just as tiffin was finished, Captain Clinton's soldier-servant came into the mess-room with the request that Dr. Parker should go across to his master's bungalow. " Well, doctor," Captain Clinton said as he entered, "in the first place I want you to go up and see my wife, and give her a sedative or something, for she is terribly upset over this affair; and in the next place I want to tell you that we have agreed to take your advice in the matter, and to bring up the two children as our own until we can make out which of the two is our child; then I want your advice as to whether they can be weaned without any damage to their health. My wife is determined upon that point. They shall not be brought up by Mrs. Humphreys. There is no other woman, is there, in the regiment with a young baby? " The doctor shook his head. "There are one or two with babies, but not with babies young enough for her to take to these. It would certainly be far better that they should have 20 "A FATHER CANNOT SELL HIS RIGHTS." the natural nourishment, but I do not say that they would necessarily suffer from being weaned. Still, you see, Clinton, there is a question whether this woman will consent to part with both the children." " I quite see that, doctor, and of course I shall be ready to make any money arrangements that will content her." " I would see the husband, if I were you," the doctor said. " He is a steady, well-conducted young felloAV, and however this matter has come about, I quite acquit him of having any share in it. I think you will find it more easy to deal with him than his wife. Unfortunately, you see, there is always a diffi- culty with adopted children. A father cannot sell away his rights; he may agree to do so, but if he changes his mind after- wards he can back out of his agreement. However he may bind himself never to interfere with it, the fact remains that he has a legal right to the custody of his child. And though Sergeant Humphreys might keep any agreement he might make, the mother might give you no end of trouble afterwards." " I see all that, doctor, but of the two evils I think the one we propose is the least. My wife says she could not bear to see this woman about the children, and I have a good deal of the same feeling myself. At any rate in her present state of health I wish to spare her all trouble and anxiety as much as I can, and therefore it is better to buy this woman off for the present, even though we may have to run the risk of trouble with her afterwards. Anyhow, something must be done at once. The children have both been squalling for the last hour, though I believe that they have had some milk or something given to them. So I had better send across for Humphreys, the sooner the matter is got over the better." The young sergeant presently appeared. " Sit down, sergeant. I want to have a talk with you over this terribly painful business. In one respect I quite under- stand that it is as painful for you and Mrs. Humphreys as it is for us, but in other respects you are much better off than I SERGEANT HUMPHREYS CONSULTED. 21 am. Not only do I not know which is my child, but I do not know which is heir to my estate; which is, as you will under- stand, a most serious matter." " I can quite understand that, sir," the sergeant said quietly. "The only plan that I can see," Captain Clinton went on, "is that for the present I shall adopt both children, and shall bring them up as my own. Probably in time one of them will grow up with some resemblance to myself or Mrs. Clinton, and the other will show a likeness to you or your wife. In that case I should propose to finish the education of your boy, and then to provide for him by putting him into the army, or such other profession as he may choose ; for it would be very unfair after bringing him up and educating him as my own to turn him adrift. Thus, you see, in any case my adoption of him would be greatly to his benefit. I can, of course, thoroughly understand that it will be very hard for you and Mrs. Humphreys to give up your child. Very hard. And I am quite ready to make any pecuniary arrangement with you and her that you may think right. I may say that I do not think that it would be desir- able that Mrs. Humphreys should continue as their nurse. I want to consider the boys as my own, and her presence would be constantly bringing up unpleasant remembrances. In the second place I think that it would be better for her that she should not act as their nurse. She would know that one of them is her own, and the separation when it came would be very much more painful than it would be at present. Of course I do not expect an answer from you just at this moment. You will naturally wish to talk it over with her, but I shall be glad if you will let us have an answer as soon as you can, as it is necessary that we should obtain another nurse without loss of time." " What you say seems to me very fair. Captain Clinton," the sergeant said. "I would give anything, sir, that this shouldn't have happened. I would rather have shot myself first. I can answer for myself, sir, that I accept your offer. 22 "I AM SURE SHE WILL, Of course, I am sorry to lose the child; but a baby is not much to a man till it gets to know him and begins to talk, and it will be a satisfaction to know that he is in good hands, with a far better look-out than I could have given him. I will see my wife, sir, and let you know in half an hour." "Do you think that she will consent, Humphreys?" "I am sure she will," the sergeant said briefly, and then added, "There is nothing else she could do," and saluting he went out of the room. " He suspects his wife of having done it on purpose," Dr. Parker said, speaking for the first time since the sergeant had entered the room. " I don't say he knows it, but he suspects it. Did you notice how decidedly he said that she would consent"? And I fancy up to now she has had her own way in everything." "Well, what do they say?" Mrs. Humphreys asked as her husband entered the door. He told her shortly the offer that had been made. She laughed scornfully. "A likely thing that! So they are to have both children, and I am not to be allowed even to see them; and they are to pick and choose as to which they like to say is theirs, and we are to be shouldered out of it altogether! It is just as bad for me not to know which is my boy as it is for that woman; but they are to take the whole settlement of things in their hands, my feelings to go for nothing. Of course you told them that you would not let them do such a thing?" " I did not tell them anything of the sort. I told them that I accepted their proposal, and that I could answer for your accepting it too." " Then you were never more wrong in your life, John Hum- phreys!" she said angrily; "I won't consent to anything of the sort. Luck has thrown a good thing in our hands, and I mean to make the most of it. We ought to get enough out of this to make us comfortable for life if we work it well. I did not think that you were such a soft!" " Soft or not soft, it is going to be done as they propose," "WHAT DO WE CARE ABOUT THEIR TALKl" 23 her husband said doggedly. "It is burden enough as it is — we have lost our child. Not that I care so very much about that; there will be time enough for more, and children do not add to the comfort of close little quarters like these. But whether we like it or not, we have lost the child. In the next place we shall never hear the end of it in the regiment, and I shall see if I cannot manage to get transferred to another. There will be no standing the talk there will be." "Let them talk !" his wife said scornfully. "What do we care about their talk!" " I care a great deal," he said. "And I tell you why, because I know what they will say is true." "What do you mean?" she asked quickly. " I mean, Jane, that I know you mixed up those children on purpose." "How dare you say so!" she exclaimed making a step for- ward as if she would strike him. "I will tell you why I say so. Because I went to the drawer this morning before going to parade, and I saw some of Mrs. Clinton's baby's night-gowns in it. Yes, I see they are all in the wash-tub now; but they were there this morning, and when I heard you say you had put the child into one of our baby's night-gowns because it had no clean ones of its own, I knew that you were lying, and that you had done this on purpose." The woman was silent a moment and then burst out, " You are a greater fool than ever I thought you! I did tell a lie when I gave that reason for putting the child into our baby's gown. When I took the two clean ones out of the drawer I did not notice until I put them on that they were both ours, and then I thought it was not worth while changing again just as the child had got quiet and comfortable. Then when I found what had happened in the morning, I had to make some excuse or other, and that occurred to me as the best. When I came back I did put them all into the wash-tub, clean 24 "WHAT IS IT YOU DO WANT?" and dirty, in case any one should come here to see about them. What harm was there in that, I should like to know"?" " You have acknowledged you have told one lie over it; after that you may say what you like, but you need not expect me to believe you." "Well, why don't you go at once and tell them that you believe that I changed the children on purpose?" "Because in the first place I cannot prove it, and because in the second case you are my wife, Jane. I took you for better or worse, and whatever you have done it ' is not for me to round on you. Anyhow, I will do all I can to set this matter straight, and the only way that I see it can be set straight is by doing as Captain Clinton says — by letting him have the two children until they grow up, and then see which of the two is like them and which is like us. What do you want done? I suppose you don't want to have the care of them both. I suppose you don't want to get paid for letting them keep them both, and to have every man and woman in the regiment asking the question. Who sold their child 1 What is it you do want?" "I want to go as their nurse.'' " Well, then, you cannot do it. It is evident that Mrs. Clin- ton hates the sight of you, and no wonder; and she won't have you at any price. You had best be contented with what you have got." "What have I got?" she asked sullenly. "Well, you have got the trouble of the child off your hands, you have got the knowledge that it will be well taken care of and provided for and made a gentleman of. That ought to be a satisfaction to you anyhow." " What is that when we might make a nice little fortune out of it?" " I can see no way of making a fortune," he said, " unless you do know which is which, and offer to tell them if they will pay you for it. In which case, instead of making a fortune "I WILL MAKE MONEY OUT OE IT YET." 25 you would be likely to find yourself inside a prison for years — and serve you right." The woman was silent for some time, then she said, "Very well, then, T will agree to their terms; but mind you, I will make money out of it yet." And so Sergeant Humphreys went across to Captain Clinton's bungalow and told him that his wife agreed to give up both children. "It is by far the best thing for the little chap whichever he may be, and you will be able to do a deal more for him than I ever could. My wife did not quite see the matter at first, but she has come round to my way of thinking. No, sir, we do not want to be paid," as Captain Clinton was about to speak; " as long as I am fit for service we want nothing. Some day, perhaps, when I get past service I may ask you to give me a job as a lodge-keeper or some such post, where I can earn my living." And so the matter was settled. One of the other officers' wives had already lent her ayah to take care of the children until one could be found for them. The ready manner in which Sergeant Humphreys had done the only thing in his power to obviate the effects of his wife's carelessness restored him at once to the good opinion of his felloAv sergeants and the men, as it was generally allowed that he had done the right thing, and that no one could do more. Opinion, however, was less favourable as to his wife. It was soon evident to all who lived in the non-commissioned officers' quarters that things were not going on well between Sergeant Humphreys and his wife. There were frequent and violent quarrels. The sergeant was often down at the canteen drink- ing more than was good for him. One day Captain Clinton sent for him. "Sergeant, I am sorry to say that I hear from the sergeant-major that you were drunk last night, and that you have several times been the worse for liquor. It is not a formal complaint, but I thought it better to talk to you. You have always been a 26 "TRY TO PULL YOURSELF ROUND, MAN." very steady man, and I should be sorry in the extreme if any- thing should happen which would cause you to be brought before the colonel. I have no doubt this affair has troubled you greatly, and that it is entirely owing to that that you have become unsettled. Try to pull yourself round, man. You know that nobody attributes the slightest shadow of blame to you in the matter." " Thank you, sir. I was coming to see you if you hadn't sent for me, to say that I wished to give up my stripes and return to the ranks. I know I shall be degraded if I don't do it of my own free-will, and I would rather go down than be sent down." "But what will your wife do? It would be a great change to her, Humphreys." "My wife has made up her mind to go home, sir, and I think it is the best thing she can do. She will never be comfortable in the regiment, and to say the truth we are not comfortable together. She says that she has friends in Eng- land she will go and stay with, and I think it is best to let her go. I would rather cut my hand off than ask for any- thing for myself, but as I am sure that it is for the best that she should go, and as I don't hear of any invalids or women going home at present, I should be very much obliged if you would lend me twenty pounds. I have got thirty laid by, and fifty will be enough to send her across by rail to Bombay, pay her passage home, and leave her twenty pounds in hand when she gets there. I will pay it off so much a month." "You are welcome to twenty pounds without any talk of repayment, Humphreys. But I wouldn't take any hasty step if I were you. If your wife and you have had a quarrel she may change her mind in a day or two, and think better of it." "No, sir; I think we are pretty well agreed on the point that she had best go home. People make mistakes sometimes, and I think we both made a mistake when we got married. A SEPARATION. 27 Anyhow, we have both agreed that it is best to part for a time." Accordingly three or four days later Mrs. Humphreys left Agra for EomlDay, and was seen no more in the regiment. Sergeant Humphreys gave up his stripes and returned to the ranks, and for two years remained there. After his wife had left him he gradually gave up the habit into which he had fallen, and at the end of the two years again became a non- commissioned officer. He was never heard to speak of his wife after she left him, nor so far as his comrades knew did he ever receive a letter from her. Soon after ho had again got his stripes the regiment returned to England, and a month later Captain Clinton sent in his papers and retired from the service. CHAPTER H. AT CHELTENHAM. EVERYTHING packed and ready, boysf "Yes, father, I think so." " The dog-cart will be at the door at eleven. Be sure and be ready in time. It won't do to miss your train, you know. Well, you have had a pleasant holiday this time, haven't you?" " Very," both boys replied together. " It has been awfully jolly," one went on, " and that trip in Brittany was certainly the best thing we have done, though we have always enjoyed our holidays. It is ever so much nicer going to out-of-the-way sort of places, and stopping at jolly little inns without any crowd and fuss, than being in those great Swiss hotels as we were last year, where every one was English, and one had to be in at regular times and almost fight to get something to eat. I hope next year you will be able to take us to Norway, as you were saying yesterday. I 28 TWO LADS. should think it would be just the same sort of thing as Brittany, only, of course, different sort of scenery, and different lan- guage and different people. Madge, you will have to set to and get up Norse to act as our interpreter." "You are very lazy boys. I had to do all the talking in Brittany. You are supposed to have learnt French longer than I have." "Oh, yes; supposed. Nobody cares about their French lessons. They make no difference in your place in the school, and so no one takes the trouble to grind at them. Well, come along, let us take a turn round the place for an hour before we start." And the two boys and Madge, who was a year their junior, went out through the French window into the garden. Captain Clinton walked to the window and looked after them. They were lads any father might be proud of, straight, well-built, handsome English lads of about sixteen. Rupert was somewhat taller than Edgar, while the latter had slightly the advantage in breadth of shoulders. Beyond the fact that both had brown hair and gray eyes there was no marked likeness between them, and their school - fellows often wondered that there should not be more similarity between twins. Both had pleasant open faces, and they were equally popular among their school-fellows. As to which was the cleverest, there were no means of ascertaining; for although both were at Cheltenham together, one was on the modern and the other on the classical side, Captain Clinton having made this arrangement purposely in order that there should be no rivalry between them, and the unpleasantness that sometimes arises when two brothers are at the same school, and one is more clever than the other, was thereby obviated. Rupert was the more lively of the two, and generally did the largest share of talking when they were together; but Edgar, although he talked less, had the more lively sense of humour, and the laughter that broke out in the garden was caused by some quiet remark of his. Captain Clinton turned sharply round upon hearing a sigh from his wife. "I don't want to see it." 29 "Well, Lucy, I know what you are thinking: another holiday over, and we are no nearer to the truth. I own that our plan has failed so far, for I can't see in either of the boys a shadow of resemblance either to you or myself. Some people profess to see likenesses. Mr. Tomline remarked yesterday that he should have known Eupert anywhere as my son, but then Colonel Wilson said the day before that Edgar had got just your expression. I don't see a scrap of likeness either way, and I begin to think, dear, that I don't want to see it." " No, I don't want to see it either, Percy; I love one as well as the other. Still I should like to know which is our own." "I used to think so too, Lucy; but I have been doubting for some time about it, and now I am quite sure that I don't want to know. They are both fine lads, and, as you say, we love one just as well as the other. Parental instinct, you see, goes for nothing. I should like to know that one of them was my son, but on the other hand I should be very sorry to know that the other wasn't. I think, dear, that it is much better as it is. We have got two sons instead of one; and after all, the idea that there would be a great satisfaction in the real one inheriting all our landed property has very little in it. There is plenty for them both, and each of them will be just as hajjpy on three thousand a year as he would on six. "As matters stand now, I have divided the property as nearly as possible equally between them. Madge, of course, will have her share; and I have left it in my will that they shall draw lots which shall have the part with the house and park on it, while the other is to have a sum of money sufficient to build an equally good house on his share of the estate. We can only hope that chance will be wiser than we, and will give the old house to the right boy. However, whether our son or our adopted son, whichever be which, gets it, does not concern me greatly. There is enough for our son to hold a good position and be comfortable and happy. Beyond this I do not trouble. At any rate the grievance, if there is a grievance, is a sentimental 30 "IT WOULD BE HARD." one; while it would be a matter of real grief to me should either of them, after having always looked upon us as his parents, come to know that he does not belong to us, and that he has been all along in a false position, and has been in fact but an interloper here. That would be terribly hard for him — so hard that I have ceased to wish that the matter should ever be cleared up, and to dread rather than hope that I should discover an unmistakable likeness to either of us in one or other of them." "You are right, Percy; and henceforth I will worry no more about it. It would be hard, dreadfully hard, on either of them to know that he was not our son; and henceforth I will, like you, try to give up wishing that I could tell which is which. I hope they will never get to know that there is any doubt about it." " I am afraid we can hardly hope that," Captain Clinton said. " There are too many people who know the story. Of course it was talked about at every station in India at the time, and I know that even about here it is generally known. No, it will be better some day or other to tell it them ourselves, making, of course, light of the matter, and letting them see that we regard them equally as our sons, and love and care for them alike, and that even if we now knew the truth it could make no difference in our feelings towards them. It is much better they should learn it from us than from anyone else." At eleven o'clock the dog-cart came to the door. The boys were ready. Captain Clinton drove them to the station four miles away, and in two hours after leaving home they arrived at Cheltenham with a large number of their school-fellows, some of whom had been in the train when they entered it, while others had joined them at Gloucester. At Cheltenham there was a scramble for vehicles, and they were soon at the boarding-house of Mr. Eiver-Smith, which had the reputation of being the most comfortable of the Cheltenham boarding- houses. THE CArXAIN OF THE FOOTBALL TEAM. 31 There was a din of voices through the house, and in tlic pleasure of meeting again and of exchanging accounts of how the hoHdays had been spent, the few lingering regrets that school-time had come round again completely vanished. Then there was a discussion as to the footliall prospects and who would get their house colours in place of those who had gone, and whether River-Smith's was likely to retain the position it had won by its victories over other houses in the previous season; and the general opinion was that their chances were not good, "You see," Skinner, the captain of the team, said to a party gathered in the senior boys' study, " Harrison and White will be better than last year, but Wade will of course be a great loss; his weight and strength told tremendously in a scrim- mage. Hart was a capital half - back too, and there was no better goal-keeper in the college than Wilson. We have not got any one to take their places, and there are four other vacancies in the team, and in each case those who have left were a lot bigger and stronger than any of the young ones we have got to choose from. I don't know who they will be yet, and must wait for the trial matches before we decide; but I think there is plenty of good material to choose from, and we shall be nearly all up to last year's mark, except in point of weight — there is a terrible falling off there, and we have no one who can fill the place of Wade. He was as strong as a bull; yes, he is an awful loss to us! There was not a fellow in the college who could go through a grease as he could. You remember last year how he rolled those fellows of Bishop's over and carried the ball right through them, and then kicked the deciding goal? That was grand! Why don't some of you fellows grow up like him'? " And he looked round reproachfully at his listeners. " Over thirteen stone Wade was, and there is not one of you above eleven and a half — anyhow, not more than a few pounds." "Why don't you set us an example?" Edgar Clinton asked; 32 "FAILED IN HIS DUTY.'' and there was a laugh, for the captain of the team was all wire and muscle and could not turn ten stone. "I am not one of that kind," he said; "but there is Words- worth, who is pretty near six feet in length, and who, if he gave his mind to it and would but eat his food quietlj^ instead of bolting it, might put some flesh on those spindle-shanks of his and fill himself out till he got pretty near to Wade's weight. A fellow ought to do something for his house, and I call it a mere waste of bone when a fellow doesn't put some flesh on him." " I can run," Wordsworth said apologetically. "Yes, you can run when you get the ball," Skinner said in a tone of disgust; "but if a fellow half your height runs up against you, over you go. You must lay yourself out for pudding, Wordsworth. With that, and eating your food more slowly, you really might get to be of some use to the house." Wordsworth grumbled something about his having done his share last year. "It all depends what you think your share is," Skinner said severely. "You did your best, I have no doubt, and you certainly got a good many goals, but that arose largely from the fact that there was nothing tangible in you. You see, you were something like a jointed walking-stick, and, naturally, it puzzled fellows. You have grown wider a bit since then, and must therefore try to make yourself useful in some other line. What we want is weight, and the sooner you put weight on the l^etter. I see Easton has not come yet." " He never comes until the evening train," another said. " He always declares it has something to do with cross lines not fit- ting in." "It takes him so long," Skinner growled, "to fold up his things without a crease, to scent his pocket-handkerchief, and to get his hair to his satisfaction, that you may be quite sure he cannot make an early start. As he is not here, and all the rest that are left out of last year's team are, it is a good "1 .surrosE he ought to iTvAy." 33 0[)portunity to talk him over, I did not like having him in the team last year, though he certainly did better than some. What do you think? Ought we to have him this year or not? I have been thinking a lot about it," "I don't care for him," Scudamore said, "but I am bound to say he does put ofl' all that finicking nonsense when he gets his football jersey on, and plays a good, hard game, and does not seem to mind in the least how muddy or dirty he gets, I should certainly put him in again, Skinner, if I were you." There was a murmur of assent from three or four of the others. "Well, I suppose he ought to play," Skinner said; "but it does rile me to see him come sauntering up as if it was quite an accident that he was there, and talk in that drawling, affected sort of way." "It is riling," another said; "but besides that I do not think there is much to complain about him, and his making an ass of himself at other times does not affect us so long as he plays well in the team," "No, I do not know that it does, but all the same it is a nuisance when one fellow keeps himself to himself and never seems to go in for anything. I do not suppose Easton means to give himself airs, but there is nothing sociable about him." " I think he is a kind-hearted fellow," Edgar Clinton said, speaking, however, with less decision than usual, as became one who was not yet in the first form. "When young Jack- son twisted his ankle so badly last term at the junior high jump, I know he used to go up and sit with him, and read with him for an hour at a time pretty near every day, I used often to wish I could manage to get up to him, but somehow I never could spare time; but Easton did, though he was in the college four and was working pretty hard too, I have known two or three other things he has done on the quiet. I don't care for his way of dressing nor for his drawling way of talk- ing, in fact, I don't care for him at all personally ; but he is a good-natured fellow in spite of his nonsense," ' 050 ) c 34 "YOU ARE A PREJUDICED BEGGAR." "Well, then, we must try him again," Skinner said, "and see how he does in the trial matches. There is no certainty about him, that is what I hate; one day he plays up and does uncommonly well, then the next day he does not seem to take a bit of interest in the game." " I have noticed several times," Scudamore said, " that Easton's play depends very much on the state of the game : if we are getting the best of it he seems to think that there is no occasion to exert himself, but if the game is going against us he pulls himself together and goes into it with all his might." "He does that," Skinner agreed; "that is what riles me in the fellow. He can play a ripping good game when he likes, but then he does not always like. However, as I said, we will give him another trial." Half an hour later the subject of the conversation arrived. He was in the first form on the classical side, and was going up at the next examination for Sandhurst. Easton was one of the monitors, but seldom asserted his authority or put himself out in any way to perform the duties of the office. He was dressed with scrupulous care, and no one from his appearance would have said that he had just come off a railway journey. He nodded all round in a careless way as he came in, and there was none of the boisterous friendliness that had marked the meeting of most of the others. "Affected ass!" Skinner growled to Rupert who was next to him. " You are a prejudiced beggar, Skinner," Rupert laughed. " You know very well he is not an ass, and I am not at all sure he is affected. I suppose it is the way he has been brought up. There is no saying what you might have been yourself if you had had nurses and people about you who always insisted on your turning out spick-and-span. Well, Easton, what have you been doing with yourself since we saw you lasf?" "I have been on the Continent most of the time," Easton said, in the quiet, deliberate tone that was so annoying to "IT WOULD P.E A VERY PLEASANT WAY." 35 Skinner. " Spent most of the time in Germany : had a week at Munich, and the same time in Dresden doing the picturc- gahery." " That must have been a treat," Skinner said sarcastically. " l^es, it was very pleasant. The worst of it is, standing about so long makes one's feet ache." "I wonder you did not have a bath-chair, Easton; delicate people go about in them, you know." "It would be a very pleasant way, Skinner, only I don't think I could bring myself to it." There was a laugh at his taking Skinner's suggestion seri- ously. " What have you been doing, Skinner'?" " I have been up in Scotland climbing hills, and getting my- self in good condition for football," Skinner replied shortly. "Ah, football? Yes, I suppose we shall be playing football this term." There was another laugh, excited principally by the angry growl with which Skinner greeted this indifference to what was to him the principal feature of the year, " I shouldn't mind football," Easton went on, after looking round as if unable to understand what the others were laughing at, "if it wasn't for the dirt. Of course it is annoying to be kicked in the shins and to be sc|ueezed horribly in the greases, but it is the dirt I object to most. If one could but get one's flannels and jerseys properly washed every time it would not matter so much, but it is disgusting to have to put on things that look as if they had been rolled in mud." " I wonder you play at all, Easton," Skinner said angrily. " Well, I wonder myself sometimes," Easton said placidly. "I suppose it is a relic of our original savage nature, when men did not mind dirt, and lived by hunting and fighting and that sort of thing." "And had never learned the nuisance of stiff shirts and col- lars, and never heard of such a thing as a tailor, and did not 36 "IT MUST HAVE BEEN BEASTLY." part their hair in the middle, Easton, and had never used soap," Skinner broke in. "No; it must have been beastly," Easton said gravely. "I am very glad that I did not live in those days." "Ah, you would have suffered horribly if you had, wouldn't you?" "Well, I don't know, Skinuer; I suppose I should have done as other people did. If one does not know the comfort of a wash and a clean shirt, one would not miss it, you see. I have sometimes thought — " " Oh, never mind what you thought," Skinner broke in out of all patience. "'Come, let us go for a walk; it is no use stopping here all this fine afternoon. Let us take a good long spin. I can see half you fellows are out of condition altogether, and the sooner we begin work the better. Will you come, Easton ? After lolling about looking at pictures a twelve-mile spin will do you good." "Thank you. Skinner; I don't know that I want any good done to me. I should not mind a walk, if it is to be a walk; but a walk with you generally means rushing across ploughed fields and jumping into ditches, and getting one's self hot and uncomfortable, and splashing one's self from head to foot. It is bad enough in flannels, but it is downright misery in one's ordinary clothes. But I don't mind a game at rackets, if any- one is disposed for it." " I will play you," Mossop said. " I want to get my hand in before the racket matches come off." So they went and put on their flannels and racket shoes, while the rest of the party started for a long walk with Skinner. " I am glad he has not come," the football captain said as they started; "he drives me out of all patience." " I don't think you have much to drive out of you, Skinner," Rupert Clinton laughed. " I believe Easton puts about half of it on, on purpose to excite you. I am sure just now I saw a little amusement in his face when he was talking so gravely." "HE IS A QUEER FELLOW." 37 "He Avill find he has got in the wrong box," Skinner said angrily, "if he tries to chaft' me." A quiet smile was exchanged among the others, for Easton was tall and well built and had the reputation of being the best boxer in the school ; and although Skinner was tough and wiry, he would have stood no chance in an encounter with him. "Well, hoAV did you get on, Mossop?" Scudamore asked as they sat down to tea. "Easton beat me every game. I had no idea that he was so good. He says he does not intend to play for the racket, but if he did he would have a first-rate chance. I was in the last ties last year and I ought to have a good chance this, but either I am altogether out of practice or he is wonderfully good. I was asking him, and he said in his lazy way that they had got a decent racket-court at his place, and that he had been knocking the balls about a bit since he came home." "If he is good enough to win," Pinkerton, the captain of the house, said, "he ought to play for the honour of the house. He has never played in any matches here before. I did not know he played at all." "That is the way with Easton," Edgar Clinton said; "he is good all round, only he never takes trouble to show it. He could have been in the college cricket eleven last year if he liked, only he said he could not spare the time. Though Skinner doesn't think so, I believe he is one of the best in our football team ; when he chooses to exert himself he is out and out the best chess player in the house ; and I suppose he is safe to pass in high for Sandhurst." " He is a cjueer fellow," Pinkerton said, " one never knoAvs what he can do and what he can't. At the last exam Glover said that the papers he sent in were far and away the best, but that he had only done the difficult questions and hadn't sent in any answers at all to the easy ones, so that instead of coming in first he was five or six down the list. I believe myself he did not want to beat me, because if he had he would have 66 A PLEASANT WALK. been head of the house, and that would have been altogether too much trouble for him. Glover wanted him to go up for the last Indian Civil, and told him he was sure that he could get in if he tried, but Easton said he wasn't fond of heat and had no fancy for India." "I suppose he was afraid to take the starch out of his collars," Edgar laughed. "Ah! here he is, late as usual." Easton strolled quietly in and took his place, looking annoy- ingly fresh and clean by the side of those who had accompanied Skinner on his walk, and who, in spite of vigorous use of clothes brushes, showed signs of cross-country running. " Have you had a pleasant walk?" he asked calmly. "Very pleasant," Skinner said, in a tone that defied contra- diction. " A delightful walk; just the thing for getting a little into condition." There was a murmur of assent among the boys who had accompanied him, but there was no great heartiness in the sound; for indeed Skinner had pressed them all to a much higher rate of speed than was pleasant in their ordinary clothes, although they would not have minded it in flannels. " You all look as if you had enjoyed it," Easton said, re- garding them one by one with an air of innocent approval; "warmed yourselves up a bit, I should say. I remark a general disappearance of collars, and Rupert Clinton's face is scratched as if he had been having a contest with some old lady's cat." " I went head-foremost into a hedge," Rupert laughed. " My foot slipped in the mud just as I was taking off, and I took a regular header into it." "And what is the matter with your hand, Wordsworth?" " A beast of a dog bit me. We were going across a field, and the brute came out from a farmhouse. My wind had gone, and I happened to be last and he made at me. Some fool has written in a book that if you keep your eyes fixed upon a dog he will never bite you. I fixed my eye on him like a gim- let but it did not act, and he came right at me and sprang at " QUITE A CATALOGUE OF ADVENTURES." 39 nio ;uul kuoclvcd nic down and got my hand in his mouth, and I don't know what would have happened if Skinner hadn't pulled a stick out of the hedge, and rushed back and hit him such a lick across the back that he went oil' yelping. Then the farmer let fly with a double-barrelled gun from his garden; but luckily we were pretty well out of reach, though two or three shots hit Scudamore on the cheek and ear and pretty nearly drew blood. He wanted to go back to fight the farmer, but as the fellow would have reloaded by the time he got there, and there was the dog into the bargain, we lugged him oif." " Quite an adventurous afternoon," Easton said in a tone of cordial admiration, which elicited a growl from Skinner. "You wish you had been with us, don't youf he said, with what was meant to be a sneer. "No, rackets was quite hard work enough for me; and I don't see much fun in either taking a header into a hedge, being bitten by a farmer's dog, or being peppered by the man himself. Still, no doubt these things are pleasant for those who like them. What has become of Templar?" "He fell into a ditch," Wordsworth said; "and he just was in a state. He had to go up to the matron for a change of clothes. He will be here in a minute, I expect." " Quite a catalogue of adventures. If I had known before- hand that there was going to be so much excitement I might have been tempted to go with you. I am afraid, Mossop, I have kept you out of quite a good thing." "There, shut up Easton!" Pinkerton said, for he saw that Skinner was at the point of explosion; "let us have peace and quiet this first night. You have got the best of it, there is no doubt. Skinner would admit that." " No I wouldn't,'' Skinner interrupted. " Never mind whether you would or not. Skinner, it clearly is so. Now, let us change the conversation. For my part I cannot make out why one fellow cannot enjoy football and that sort of thing, and another like to lie on his back in the shade, 40 SKINNER BECOMES DANGEROUS. without squabbling over it. If Skinner had his own way he would never sit quiet a minute, if Easton had his he would never exert himself to walk across the room. It is a matter of taste. I like half and half, but I do not want to interfere with either of your fancies. Now, it is about time to set to work. I expect there are a good many holiday tasks not perfect." There was a chorus of assent, and the senior boys went off to their private studies, and the juniors to the large study, where they worked under the eye of the house-master. Skinner's mournful anticipations as to the effect of the want of weight in the football team were speedily verified. The trial matches were almost all lost, the team being fairly borne down by the superior weight of their opponents. There was general exasperation at these disasters, for Eiver - Smith's House had for some years stood high, and to be beaten in match after match was trying indeed. Skinner took the matter terribly to heart, and was in a chronic state of disgust and fury. As Easton observed to Edgar Clinton: "Skinner is becoming positively dangerous. He is like a Scotch terrier with a sore ear, and snaps at every one who comes near him." " Still it is annoying," Edgar, who thoroughly sympathized with Skinner, said. "Well, yes, it is annoying. I am annoyed myself, and it takes a good deal to annoy me. I think we ought to do some- thing." " Well, it seems to me that we have been doing all we can," Edgar said. " I am sure you have, for it was only yesterday- Skinner was holding you up as an example to some of us. He said, 'You ought all to be ashamed of yourselves. Why, look at that lazy beggar Easton, he works as hard as the whole lot of you put together. If it was not for him I should say we had better chuck it altogether.'" " I observe that Skinner has been a little more civil to me lately," Easton said. " Yes, I do my best. I object to the whole EAS'l'ON SAYS A VKW WOllDS. 41 tiling-, luit if one doos play one docjs not like being beaten. 1 think Ave had better have a talk over the matter together." "But we are always talking over the matter," Edgar ob- jected. " All the fellows who liad a chance of turning out well have been tried, and I am sure we play up well together. Every one says that we are beaten just because we cannot stand their rushes." That afternoon the house was badly beaten by the Greenites in the trial match, and as there was a special rivalry between Green's and River- Smith's the disgust not only of the members of the team but of the whole house was very great. Seven of the seniors met after tea in Skinner's study to discuss the situation. "I don't see anything to be done," Skinner said, after various possible changes in the team had been discussed; "it is not play we want, it is weight. The Greenites must average at least a stone and a half heavier than we do. I have nothing to say against the playing. We simply cannot stand against them; we go down like nine -pins. No, I suppose we shall lose every match this season. But I don't see any use in talking any more about it. I suppose no one has anything further to suggest." "Well, yes, I have a few words to say," Easton, who had been sitting on the table and had hitherto not opened his lips, remarked in a quiet voice. " Well, say away." "It seems to me," Easton went on without paying any regard to the snappishness of Skinner's tone, " that though we cannot make ourselves any heavier, weight is not after all the only thing, I think we might make up for it by last. When fellows are going to row a race they don't content themselves with practice, they set to and train hard. It seems to me that if we were to go into strict training and get ourselves thoroughly fit, it ought to make a lot of difference. We might lose goals in the first half of the play, but if we were in good 42 "GOING IN FOR IT HEART AND SOUL." training we ought to get a pull in the second half. By playing up all we knew at first, and pumping them as much as possible, training ought to tell. I know. Skinner, you always said we ought to keep ourselves in good condition; but I mean more than that, I mean strict training — getting up early and going for a three or four mile run every morning, taking another run in the afternoon, cutting off pudding and all that sort of thing, and going in for it heart and soul. It is no use training unless one does a thing thoroughly." " Well, one could but try," Skinner said. " There is no reason why one shouldn't train for football just as one does for rowing or running. You are the last fellow I should have expected to hear such a proposal from, Easton, but if you are ready to do it I am sure every one else will be." There was a cordial exclamation of assent from the others. " Well, of course it will be a horrible nuisance," Easton said regretfully; " but if one does go in for a thing of this sort it seems to me that it must be done thoroughly. And besides, it is very annoying just at the ticklish point of a game, when you would give anything to be able to catch the fellow ahead of you with the ball, to find that your lungs have given out, and that you haven't a cupful of wind left." " I believe, Easton, that you are a downright humbug," Scudamore said; "and that while you pretend to hate any- thing like exertion, you are just as fond of it as Skinner is." "Well, at any rate," Skinner broke in, "we will try Easton's suggestion. From to-night the team shall go into strict train- ing. I will see Eiver-Smith now and get leave for us to go out at six o'clock every morning. We will settle about the after- noon work afterwards. Of course pudding must be given up, and there must be no buying cakes or things of that sort. New bread and potatoes must be given up, and we must all agree never to touch anything to drink between meals. We will try the thing thoroughly. It will be a month before we play our next match with Green's. If we can but beat them TRAINING. 43 I do not care so much about the others. There are two or three houses we should have no chance with if we were to train as fine as a university eight." The rest of the team were at once informed of the deter- mination that had been arrived at. Had it emanated only from Skinner several of the members might have protested against the hardship of going into training for football, but the fact that Easton had proposed it weighed with them all. If he was ready to take such trouble over the matter no one else could reasonably object, and the consequence was that, although not without a good deal of grumbling at being got up before daylight, the whole team turned out in their flannels and two thick jerseys punctually at six o'clock. " Here is an egg and half cupful of milk for each of you," Skinner said as they gathered below. " Look sharp and beat up your egg with the milk. Here is a mouthful of biscuit for each. Eiver-Smith said he did not like our going out without taking something before we started, and Cornish, who rowed in the trials at Caml best thing to take." Five minutes later, comforted by the egg and milk, the party started. "We don't want to go at racing speed," Skinner said; " merely a good steady trot to make the lungs play. We don't want to pull ourselves down in weight. I don't think, after the last month's work, we have any fat among us. What we want is wind and last. To-morrow we will turn out with the heaviest boots we have got instead of running shoes. When we can run four miles in them, we ought to be able to keep up pretty fairly through the hardest game of football." There was a good deal of lagging behind towards the last part of the run, a fact that Skinner pointed out triumphantly as a proof of want of condition, but after a wash and change of clothes all the party agreed that they felt better for the 44 IMPROVEMENT. Mr, Eiver-Smith was as much concerned as the boys at the defeats of the house at football, and when they sat down to breakfast the members of the team found that a mutton-chop was provided for each of them. Strict orders had been issued that nothing was to be said outside the house of the football team going into training; and as, for the afternoon's exercise, it was only necessary that every member of the team should take part in football practice, and play up to the utmost, the matter remained a secret. In the first two or three matches played the training made no apparent difference. "You must not be disheartened at that," Mr. Cornish, who was the "housemaster," told them. "Fellows always get weak when they first begin to train. You will find the benefit presently." And this was the case. They won the fourth match, which was against a comparatively weak team. This, however, en- couraged them, and they were victorious in the next two con- tests, although in the second their opponents were considered a strong team, and their victory had been regarded as certain. The improvement in the River-Smithites' team became a topic of conversation in the college, and there were rumours that they had put themselves into regular training, and that some one had seen them come in in a body at seven in the morning after having been for a run. The challenge cup matches were now at hand, and as it happened they were drawn to meet the Greenites, and the match was regarded with special interest throughout the school. The rivalry be- tween the two houses was notorious, and although the Green- ites scoffed at the idea of their being defeated by a team they had before so easily beaten, the great improvement the latter had made gave promise that the struggle would be an excep- tionally severe one. Skinner had for some days before looked after the team with extreme vigilance, scarcely letting one of them out of his sight, lest they might eat forbidden things, or in other ways transgress the rules laid down. A HARD GAME. 41) " We may not win," ho admitted, as they tallced over the pi'ospect on the evening Ijcfore the matcli, " but at any rate they will have all their work cut out to beat us. I know they are very confident, and of course their weight is tremendously in their favour. Now, mind, we must press them as hard as we can for the first half the game, and never leave them for a single moment. They are sure to get savage when they find they have not got it all their own way, and that will help to pump them. We shall have more left in us the second half than they will, and then will be our chance." These tactics were followed out, and from the first the game was played with exceptional spirit on both sides; and as the Greenites failed, even by the most determined rushes, to carry the ball into their opponents' goal, the game became, as Skin- ner had predicted, more and more savage. The sympathies of the school were for the most part with Eiver-Smith's, and the loud shouts of applause and encourage- ment with which their gallant defence of their goal was greeted, added to the irritation of the Greenites. When the half-play was called neither party had scored a point, and as they changed sides it was evident that the tremendous pace had told upon both parties. " Now is our time," Skinner said to his team; " they are more done than we are, and our training will tell more and more every minute. Keep it up hard, and when we see a chance make a big rush and carry it down to their end." But the Greenites were equally determined, and in spite of the efforts of their opponents, kept the ball at their end of the field. Then Skinner got it and made a rush. One of the heaviest of the Greenites charged down upon them at full speed, but was encountered by Easton before he reached him, and the two rolled over together. The Eiver-Smithites backed up their leader well, and he was more than half-way down the ground before the Greenites had arrested his progress. Then there was a close scrimmage, and for a time the mass swayed 46 A POINT SCORED. backwards and forwards. But here weight counted for more than wind, and the Greeuites were pushing their opponents back when the ball rolled out from the mass. Edgar Clinton picked it up, and was off with it in a moment, dodging through those who attempted to check his course. He was down near the Greenites' goal before two of them threw themselves upon him together; but his friends were close be- hind, and after a desperate scrimmage the ball was driven behind the Greenite goal. Some loose play followed, and a Greenite who had the ball threw it forward to one of his own team, who caught it and started running. The River-Smithites shouted "Dead ball!" "Dead ball!" and claimed the point; but the holder of the ball, without heeding the shouts, ran right through followed by the rest of his team, and touched down behind the River-Smith goal. The ball was then brought out and a goal kicked. All this time the River-Smithites had not moved from behind the Greenite goal, but had remained there awaiting the result of their appeal to the umjDire, who now at once decided in their favour. Not satisfied with this the Greenites appealed to the referee, who confirmed the decision of the umpire. Too angry to be reasonable, the captain re- fused to continue the game, and called upon his team to leave the field. They were going, when the derisive shouts of the lookers-on caused them again to alter their intentions, and the game was renewed. There were ten minutes yet remaining, and for that time the game was played with a fury that caused it to be long memor- able in the annals of Cheltenham football. But weight and strength could not prevail over the superior last and coolness of the defenders of the River-Smith goal. Every attempt was beaten off, every rush met, and as no point had been added to the score when time was called, the umpire decided that the game had been won by the River-Smithites by one touch- down to nothing. The captain of the Greenites appealed from the umpire's and referee's decision to the football committee of A FINAL DECISION. 47 the college, who gave it against him, and he then appealed to the Rughy Union, who decided that the umpire's decision was perfectly right, and the victory thus remained beyond further contention with the Kiver-Smithites. CHAPTER III. BRAVO, Clinton ! Well done, indeed !" so shouted one of the big boys, and a score of others joined in in chorus. " Which is Clinton?" a woman who was standing looking on at the game asked one of the younger boys. The boy looked up at the questioner. She was a woman of about forty years old, quietly dressed in black with a gloss of newness on it. " I will point him out to you directly. They are all mixed up again now." "There are two of them, are there not?" the woman asked, " Yes, that's the other; there — that one who has just picked up the ball and is running with it; there, that's the other, the one who is just charging the fellow who is trying to stop his brother." "Well done!" he shouted, as Edgar's opponent rolled over. The woman asked no more questions until the match was over, but stood looking on intently as the players came off the ground. Rupert and Edgar were together, laughing and talk- ing in high spirits; for each had kicked a goal, and the town boys had been beaten by four goals to one. The boy to Avhom she had been speaking had long before strolled away to another part of the field, but she turned to another as the Clintons approached. "Those are the Clintons, are they not?" she asked. 48 "I WONDER WHO THE WOMAN IS." " Yes, and a good sort they are," the boy said heartily. She stood looking at them intently until they had her, then walked away with her eyes bent on the ground, and made her way to a small lodging she had taken in the town. For several days she placed herself so that she could see the boys on their way to and fro between Eiver-Smith's and the college, and watched them at football. " I wonder who that woman is," Rupert said one day to his brother. "I constantly see her about, and she always seems to be staring at me." " I thought she stared at me too," Edgar said. " I am sure I do not know her. I don't think I have ever seen her face before." " She asked me whether you were Clinton the other day when you were playing football. It was just after you had made a run with the ball, and some one shouted, 'Well done, Clinton!' And she asked me which was Clinton, and whether there were not two of them. And of course I pointed you both out," a youngster said who was walking with them. " That is rum, too," Eupert said. " I wonder who the woman is, Edgar, and what interest she can have in us." "If she has any interest, Eupert, I suppose she will stop staring some day and speak. Perhaps it is some old servant, though I don't remember her. Well, it is no odds any- way." Jane Humphreys was much puzzled as to what step she should take first. During all these years she had waited she had always expected that she should have known which was her own child as soon as she set eyes on the boys, and was surprised and disappointed to find that even after a week's stay at Cheltenham, and examining their faces as closely as she could, she had not the slightest idea which was Avhich. She had imagined that she should not only know, but feel an affec- tion for the boy who was her own, and she had fully intended to place him in the position of Captain Clinton's heir, trusting iNDKcrsroN. 49 to rccoivc the ])romise of a large sum from him when ho should fomo iuto possession. Now it seemed to her that sho cared no more for one than for the other, and that lier best jjlan therefore was to place in the position of heir whichever of them was most likely to suit her purpose. But here, again, sho was in a difficulty. If they resembled each other in no other point, they both looked thoroughly manly, straightforward, and honest lads, neither of whom would be likely to entertain any dishonourable propo- sition. Her intention had been to say to her son, " You are not really the twin brother, as you suppose, of the other. Captain and Mrs. Clinton do not know which of you two is their child." She wondered whether they already knew as much as that. Probably they did. So many people had known of that affair at Agra, that Captain Clinton had probably told them himself. She would tell the boy, " I am the only person in the world who can clear up the mystery. I have the key to it in my hand, and can place either you or the other in the position of sole heir to the estate. I shall expect to be paid a handsome sum from the one I put into possession. Remember, on one hand I can give you a splendid property, on the other I can show you to have been from the first a usurper of things you had no right to — an interloper and a fraud." It had seemed to her a simple matter before she came down to Cheltenham. Surely no boy in his senses would hesitate a moment in accepting her offer. It had always been a fixed thing in her mind that this would be so, but now she felt that it was not so certain as she before imagined. She hesitated whether she should not defer it until the boys came of age, and the one she chose could .sign a legal document; Ijut she was anxious to leave England, and go right away to America or Australia. Besides, if she had the promise she could enforce its fulfilment. Which boy should she select? She changed her mind several times, and at last determined that she would leave it to chance, and would choose the one whom she next met. ( 650 ) D 50 "NOW, FIRE away!" It chanced that Edgar was the first she encountered after having taken this resolution, and it happened that he was walking by himself, having remained in the class-room a few minutes after the rest of the boys had left, to speak to the master respecting a difficult passage in a lesson. The woman placed herself in his way. "Well, what is it?" he said. "You have been hanging about for the last week. What is it you want 1 " "I want to speak to you about something very important." "Oh, nonsense!" he said. "There is nothing important you can have to tell me." "Yes, there is; something of the greatest importance. You do not suppose that I should have been here for a week wait- ing to tell it to you, if it was not." " AVell, I suppose you think it important," he said; " so fire away." "I cannot tell you now," she said; "it is too long a story. Could you spare me half an hour, young sir? You will not be sorry for it afterwards, I promise you." Edgar looked impatiently at his watch. He had nothing pai'ticular to do at the moment, and his curiosity was excited. " I can spare it you now," he said. " I am staying at this address," she said, handing him a piece of paper. " It is not five minutes' walk from here. I will go on, if you will follow me." "All right," Edgar said, looking at the paper; "though I expect it is some fooling or other." She walked away rapidly, and he sauntered after her. She was standing with the door open when he arrived, and he followed her into a small par- lour. He threw himself clown into a chair. "Now, fire away," he said; "and be as quick as you can." " Before I begin," she said quietly, " will you tell me if you know anything relating to the circumstances of your birth?" He looked at her in astonishment. " No," he said. " What "THE WOMAN PLACED HERSELF IN HIS WAY." "YOU MUST BR MAD!" 51 in the world should I know about the circumstances of my birth ? " " You know that you were born at Agra in India?" " Of course I know that." "And your father, Captain Clinton, has never spoken to you about the circumstances 1" Edgar shook his head. "No; I only know that I was born there. " I should have thought that he would have told you the story," she said; "for there were many knew of it, and you would be sure to hear it sooner or later." " I do not want to hear of it," he said, leaping to his feet. " If there was anything my father wanted me to know he would tell it to me at once. You do not suppose I want to hear it from anyone else ? " He was making for the door, when she said, "Then you do not know that you are not his son?" He stopped abruptly. " Don't know I am not his son ! " he repeated. " You must be mad." " I am not mad at all," she said. " You are not his son. Not any relation in the Avorld to him. Sit down again and I will tell you the story." He mechanically obeyed, feeling overwhelmed with the news he had heard. Then as she told him how the chil- dren had become mixed, and how Captain Clinton had decided to bring them up together until he should be able to discover by some likeness to himself or wife which was his son, Edgar listened to the story with a terrible feeling of oppression stealing over him. He could not doubt that she was speaking the truth, for if it were false it could be contra- dicted at once. There were circumstances too which seemed to confirm it. He recalled now, that often in their younger days his father and mother had asked casual visitors if they saw any likeness between either of the children to them; and he specially remembered how closely Colonel Winterbottom, 52 "I SACRIFICED MYSELF FOR YOUR SAKE." who had been major in his father's regiment, had scrutinized them both, and how he had said, " No, Chnton, for the life of me I cannot see that one is more like you and your wife than the other." And now this woman had told him that he was not their son; and he understood that she must be this ser- geant's wife, and that if he was not Captain Clinton's son she must be his mother. "You are Mrs. Humphreys, I suppose?" he said in a hard, dry voice when she had ceased speaking. "I am your mother," she said. He moved as if struck with sudden pain as she spoke, but said nothing. " I sacrificed myself for your sake," .she went on after a pause. " I had them both, and it seemed to me hard that my boy should grow up to be a boy of the regiment, with nothing better to look forward to than to enlist in it some day, while the other, no better in any respect than him, should grow up to be a rich man, with everything the heart could desire, and I determined that he should have an equal chance with the other. I knew that perhaps some day they might find out which was which by a likeness, biit that was not certain; and at any rate you would get a good education and be well brought up, and you were sure to be provided for, and when the time should come, if there was still doubt, I could give you the chance of either having the half or all just as you chose. It was terrible for me to give you up altogether, but I did it for your good. I suffered horribly, and the women of the regiment turned against me. Your father treated me badly, and I had to leave him and come home to England. But my comfort has all along been that I had succeeded; that you were being brought up as a gentleman, and were happy and well cared for." Edgar sat silent for some time. " How do you know," he asked suddenly, " that it is Rupert and not I who is the real son?" " One of the infants," she said, " had a tiny mole no bigger "WELL, wiLvr ni-ixtT' 53 thiiii a pill's head on his shoulder, aud I was sure that I would always know them a})art from that." " Yes, Itupcrt has a mark like that," Edgar admitted, for ho had noticed it only a short time before. "Yes," the woman said quietly. "Mrs. Clinton's child had that mark. It was very, very small and scarcely noticeable, but as I washed and dressed them when babies, I noticed it." " Well, what next ? " Edgar asked roughly. "As I said, my boy," — Edgar winced as she spoke — "it is for you to choose whether you will have half or all the pro- }icrty. If I hold my tongue you will go on as you are now, and they will never know which is their son. If you like to have it all, to be the heir of that grand place and everything else, I have only to go and say that my boy had a mole on his shoulder. There is nothing I would not do to make you happy." " And I suppose," Edgar said quietly, " you will want some money for yourself"?" "I do not wish to make any bargain, if that is what you mean," she said in an indignant tone, " I know, of course, that you can give me no money now. I suppose that in either case you would wish to help a mother who has done so much for you. I don't expect gratitude at present. Naturally you are upset about what I have told you. Some day when you grow to be a man you will appreciate better than you can now what I have done for you, and what you have gained by it." Elgar sat silent for a minute or two, and then he rose quietly and said, "I will think it all over. You shall have my answer in a day or two," and without another word left the room and sauntered off. " What is the matter, Edgar 1 " Rupert asked two hours later. "I have been looking for you everywhere, and young Johnson has only just said that you told him to tell me you were feeling very seedy, and were going to lie down for a bit." " I have got a frightful headache, Rupert," Edgar, who Avas 54 "GOOD-NIGHT, OLD FELLOW." lying with his face to the wall, said. " I am too bad to talk, old fellow; let me alone. I daresay I shall be all right when I have had a night's sleep. Tell Eiver-Smith, will you, that I am seedy, and cannot come down to tea. I do not want the doctor or anything of that sort, but if I am not all right in the morning, I will see him." Eupert went out quietly. It was something new Edgar's being like this, he never remembered him having a bad headache before. " I expect," he said to himself, " he got hurt in one of those scrimmages yesterday, although he did not say anything about it. I do hope that he is not going to be ill. The examinations are on next week, it will be a frightful nuisance for him to miss them." He went into Edgar's dormi- tory again the last thing. He opened the door very quietly in case he should be asleep. "I am not asleep," Edgar said; "I am rather better now. Good-night, Eupert," and he held out his hand. Eupert was surprised at the action, but took his hand and pressed it, " Good-night, Edgar. I do hope that you will be all right in the morning." " Good-night, old fellow. God bless you ! " and there was almost a sob in the lad's voice. Eupert went out surprised and uneasy. " Edgar must be worse than he says," he thought to himself. "It is rum of him saying good-night in that way, I have never known him do such a thing before. I wish now that I had asked Eiver- Smith to send round for the doctor. I daresay Edgar would not have liked it, but it would have been best; but he seemed so anxious to be quiet and get off to sleep, that I did not think of it." The first thing in the morning Eupert went to his brother's dormitory to see how he was. He tapped at the door, but there was no answer Thinking that his brother was asleep, he turned the handle and went in. An exclamation of sur- prise broke from him. Edgar was not there and the bed had gone! 55 not been slej)t in, l)ut wiis just as he had seen it wlicii Edgar was lying on the outside. On the table was a ]vXUn- directed to himself. He tore it open. "My dear Eupert," it began, "a horrible thing has happened, and I shall be off to-night. I have learned that I am not your brother at all, but that I was fraudulently put in that position. I have been writing this afternoon to father and mother. Oh! Rupert, to think that it is the last time I can call them so. They will tell you the whole business. I am writing this by the light of the lamp in the passage, and you will all be up in a few minutes, so I have no time to say more. I shall post the other letter to-night. Good-bye, Rupert! Good-bye, dear old fellow ! We have been happy together, haven't we 1 and I hope you will always be so. Perhaps some day when I have made myself a name — for I have no right to call myself Clinton, and I won't call myself by my real name — I may see you again. I have taken the note, but I know that you won't grudge it me." Rupert read the letter through two or three times, then ran down as he was, in his night-shirt and trousers, and passed in to the master's part of the private house. "Robert," he said to the man-servant whom. he met in the passage, "is Mr. River- Smith dressed yet?" "He is not finished dressing yet. Master Clinton; at least he has not come out of his room. But I expect he is pretty near dressed." "Will you ask him to come out to me at once, please?" Eupert said. " It is a most serious business, or you may be sure I should not ask." The man asked no questions, for he saw by Rupert's face that this must be something quite out of the ordinary way. " Just step into this room and I Avill fetch him," he said. In a minute the master came in. "What is it, Clinton, — ■ nothing serious the matter, I hope?" "Yes, sir, I am afraid it is something very serious. My 56 "HOW COULD THERE BE?" brother was not well yesterday evening. He said that he had a frightful headache, but he thought it would be all right in the morning, and he went and lay down on his bed. I thought that he was strange in his manner when I went in to say good-night to him; and when I went in this morning, sir, the bed hadn't been slept in and he was gone, and he has left me this note, and it is evident, as you will see, that he is alto- gether off his head. You see, he fancies that he is not my brother." The master had listened with the gravest concern, and now glanced hastily through the letter. " 'Tis strange indeed," he said. " There is no possibility, of course, that there is anything in this idea of his?" "No, sir, of course not. How could there be?" " That I cannot say, Clinton. Anyhow the matter is most serious. Of course he could not have taken any clothes with him?" "No, sir; at least he cannot have got any beyond what he stands in. I should think the matron would not have given him any out, especially as he must have told her that he was ill, or he could not have got into the dormitory." "I had better see her first, Clinton; it is always well to be cjuite sure of one's ground. You go up and dress while I make the incpuries." Eupert returned to the dormitory, finished dressing, and then ran down again. "He has taken no clothes with him, Clinton. The matron says that he went to her in the after- noon and said that he had a splitting headache, and wanted to be quite quiet and undisturbed. She offered to send for the doctor, but he said that he expected that he should be all right in the morning, but that if he wasn't of course the doctor could see him then. So she unlocked the door of the dormitory and let him in. I asked her if he had his boots on. She said no; he was going up in them, contrary to rule, when slie reminded him of it, and he took them off and put them in "WHAT IS TO BK DONK, Sllli" 57 the rack in the 'wood-closct. I have seen the Ixiot-lxjy, and lie says ho noticed when he went there this morning early to clean them, No. G rack was empty. 80 your brother must have come down, after he had gone up to the dormitory, and got his boots. "Now let us ask a few questions of the servants." lie rang the bell, and sent for some of the servants. " Which of yuu were down first this morning?" he asked. *' I Avas down first, sir," one of the girls said. " Did you find anything unusual?" "Yes, sir. One of the Avindows downstairs, looking into the yard, was open, though I know I closed it and put up the shutters last night; and John says the door of the yard has been unbolted too, and that the lock had been forced." The master went out, walked across the yard, and examined the lock. "There would be no difficulty in opening that on this side," he said to liupert; "it could be done with a strong pocket- knife easily enough." "What is to be done, sir?" Eupert asked anxiously. "Shall I telegraph to my father?" "I think you had better go and see him, Clinton. Your brother probably did not leave the house until twelve o'clock, though he may have gone at eleven. But whether eleven or twelve it makes no difference. No doubt he posted the letter he speaks of the first thing on leaving; but, you see, it is a cross post to your place, and the letter could not anyhow have got there for delivery this morning. You can hardly explain it all by telegram ; and I think, as I said, it is better that you should go yourself. I will have breakfast put for you in my study, and I will have a fly at the door. You will be able to catch the eight- o'clock train into Gloucester, and you should be home by eleven." "You do not think anything could have happened to him?" Piupert asked anxiously. 58 "JUST THE SAME AS USUAL, SIR." " No, I do not think that there is any fear of that, CHnton. You see, he has got a fixed idea in his head; he has evidently acted with deHberation. Besides, you see in his letter to you he says he shall not see you until he has made a name for himself. I tell you frankly, Chnton, that my own impression is that your brother is not mad, but that he has — of course I do not know how, or attempt to explain it — but that he has in some way got the idea that he is not your brother. Has he been quite himself lately?" " Quite, sir; I have seen nothing unusual about him at alL" "Did he seem bright and well yesterday morning f "Just the same as usual, sir. I Avas quite surprised when, just at tea-time, I found that he had gone to lie down with the headache." "Did he get any letter yesterday?" "No, sir; we neither of us had any letter, in the morning anyhow. He may have received one in the afternoon, for any- thing I know.** "I will go and ask Eobert," the master said, "he alwaj's takes the letters from the letter-bag." "No, Clinton," he went on when he returned; "there were only three letters for the boys in the afternoon mail, and neither of them Avas for him. He cannot have seen anyone, can he, Avho could have told him any story that would serve as a foundation for this idea?" Then an idea flashed across Eupert. " Well, sir, a rather curious thing has happened in the last few days. There has been a woman about here, and it appears she asked one of the boys which were the Clintons; and we have seen her every time Ave have been out, and we both noticed that she has stared at us in a very strange Avay. I don't knoAv that that can possibly have anything to do Avith it. She may have spoken to Edgar yesterday. Of course I cannot say." " Well, 1 must be going now. I have told Eobert to put your breakfast in my study, and to send the boy for a tiy." "WHAT IS TIIK MATTI-J;, IJl'l'llUl' T' 59 " W'luit will }-ou say to tho boys, sir'i" Kupert asked anxiously. "There will be no occasion to say anything for a day or two beyond the fact that you are obliged to go home suddeidy. I shall only say Clinton, but it will naturally be supposed that I mean both of you. If it gets out that you have gone alone, which it may do, although I shall give strict orders to the con- trary, I shall of course mention that we fear that your brother got his head hurt in that football match, and that he has taken up some strange ideas and has gone off. But it is hardly likely that the matter will leak out in any wa}^ until you return, or I hear from you. I think you can make yourself quite easy on that score." It was half-past eleven when Rupert Clinton reached home. On the way he had thought over how he had best break the news quietly to his father, and he got out of the trap that had driven him from the station at the lodge, and made a long circuit so as to reach the stable without being seen from the front windows of the house. He went at once to the old coachman, who was a great ally of the boys. The man uttered an exclamation of astonishment at seeing him. " Why, Master Eupert, I thought that you were not coming home for another fortnight. Well, you have given me a start!" " Look here, Fellows, I have come to see my father about a serious matter, and I want to see him before I see my mother." "Nothing the matter with Master Edgar, I hope, sir"?" "Yes, it is about him; but I will tell you presently, Fellows, I don't want to lose a minute now. Please go into the house and get my father to come out at once to the stables. Make any excuse you like to bring him out, and as you come along you can tell him I am here." In five minutes Captain Clinton hurried into the saddle- room, where Rupert was standing. He was pale and agitated. "What is the matter, Rupert, — has anything happened to Edgar 1 I know that it must be something very serious or you would never come like this." 60 "OH, FATHER, HOW CAN THAT BE?" "It is serious, father, very serious;" and he told him what had happened, and handed him the letter that Edgar had left. "You see he has evidently gone out of his mind, father." Captain Clinton ran his eye over the letter and gave an exclamation of surprise and grief, then he stood for a minute covering his face with his hand. When he removed it Eupert saw that his eyes were filled with tears. "Poor boy!" he murmured, "I see that we have made a terrible mistake, although we did it for the best." "A mistake, father ! Why, is it possible, can it be true that — " " That Edgar is not your brother, my boy ? Yes, it is certain that he is not your brother, though whether he or you is our son we know not." Eupert stood speechless with astonishment. " One of us not your son!" he said at last in a broken voice. " Oh, father, how can that hel" " It happened thus, Eupert," Captain Clinton said, and then told him the story of the confusion that had arisen between the children. He then went on: " You see, Eupert, we hoped, your mother and I, at first that we should find out as you grew up, by the likeness one of you might develop to your mother or myself, which was our child; but for some years now, my boy, I have feared rather than hoped to discover a likeness, and have been glad that neither of you took after either of us, as far as we could see. We loved you equally, and could not bear the thought of losing either of you. We had two sons instead of one, that was all; and had one been proved to be ours, we should have lost the other. We intended to tell you in a short time how the matter stood, and that while one was our adopted sou and the other our own, we neither knew nor cared which Avas which, loving you both equally and regarding you both as our own. Indeed we should never have told you about it, had it not been that as the story of the confusion at your birth was known to a great many men who were at that time in India, it was almost sure to come to your ears sooner or later. Had we TOT,r> r.Y A woi\rAN. (51 ever dreamt that it would eomo like tin's, of course \vc should have told you loug ago. JJut how can Edgar have learnt it? Still more, how can anyone have been able to tell him — what even we do not know — that he is not our son?" "You will know when the letter arrives by the next post, father. Eut now I have heard the story, I think it must have been told him by a woman;" and he related how they had been watched by a woman who was a stranger to tlnnn. "What was she like, Rupert?" Rupert described her as well as he was able. "I have no doubt that it was Mrs. Humphreys, Rupert; she would be about the age you describe, and, allowing for the seventeen years that have passed since I have seen her, like her in appearance. But we had better go in to your mother now, she must be told. I will go in first and break it to her. Of course there is nothing else that can be done until we get Edgar's letter. I will send a man off on horseback to the post- office, we shall get it an hour earlier than if we wait for the postman to bring it." It was half an hour before Captain Clinton came out from the drawing-room and called Rupert in. The boy had been telling the news to Madge, having asked his father if he should do so. She had been terribly distressed, and Rupert himself had completely broken down. " You can come in now, both of you," Captain Clinton said. " Of course, your mother is dreadfully upset, so try and keep up for her sake." Mrs. Clinton embraced Rupert in silence, she was too affected for speech. "Do you think," she said after a time in broken tones, " Edgar can have gone with this woman?" " I don't know, mother; I have not been able to think about it. I should not think he could. I know if it had been me I should have hated her even if she was my mother, for coming after all this time to rob me of your love and father's. I 62 WAITING. should run away as he has done, I daresay, though I don't know about that; but I would not have gone with her." " I cannot make out how she could have known which was which," Captain Clinton said, walking up and down the room; " we have never seen any likeness in either of you to ourselves, but it is possible she may have seen a likeness in Edgar to her husband. By the way," he said suddenly, " I must send off a telegram to River-Smith; he, of course, will be most anxious." He took a telegram form from his desk, and after a minute's hesitation wrote: " No anxiety as to Edgar's mind — can account for his conduct — will write fully to-morrow after I have received his letter— shall keep Rupert here some days." Then putting it in an envelope, he rang the bell and directed the servant to give it to one of the grooms with orders to ride with it at once to the nearest telegraph station. "Now, Rupert, the best thing you and Madge can do is to go out for a walk. You can know nothing more until the letter arrives, and it will be better for you to be moving about than to be sitting here quietly. Your mother had best lie down until the letter comes; it cannot be here until five o'clock." Madge and Rupert as they walked talked the matter over in every possible light, the only conclusion at which they arrived being that whoever might be Edgar's father and mother they would always regard him as their brother, and should love him just the same as before. "I cannot think why he ran away!" Madge exclaimed over and over again. " I am sure I should not run away if I found that I wasn't father and mother's real daughter. They have been everything to me, and I could not love them a bit less if I did know that I was their adopted child instead of being their real one." "No, certainly not," Rupert agreed; "but then, you see, Madge, Edgar may have thought that he had been adopted, not as childless people sometimes adopt children, but because they could not help adopting him." "IT IS VERY BAD." 63 "But that wasn't his fault, Rupert." "No, tliat wasn't his fault; but I can understand him feeling that it made a great difference. Oh, I wonder what ho is doing! I expect he went up to London by the night mail; he would have caught that at Glo'ster. But Avhat could he do when he got there?" "Oh, I am not thinking about that!" the girl said. "I am thinking what he must feel when he knows father and mother are not his father and mother, and that you and I are not his brother and sister. It must be awful, Rupert." "It must be awful," Rupert agreed. "I do not know what I should have done had it been me, and you know it might just as well hav^e been mo as Edgar. I wish it were five o'clock!" The afternoon seemed indeed endless to them all. For the last half -hour Rupert and Madge sat at the window gazing across the park for the first sight of the horseman, and at last they exclaimed simultaneously, "There he comes!" Captain Clinton, who had been sitting by the sofa holding his Avife's hand in his, rose. " I will go and meet him," he said. " Rupert and Madge, you had better go into the library until I call you. I must read it over first to your mother." Without a word they went into the other room, and from the window watched Captain Clinton as he walked quickly down the drive to meet the groom. They saw him take the letter, and, as the man rode on towards the stables, open it and stand reading it. "It is very bad," Madge said almost in a whisper, as she saw her father drop his hand despondently to his side, and then with bent head walk towards the house. Not another word was spoken until Cajjtain Clinton opened the door and called them. Madge had been crying silently, and the tears were running fast down Rupert's cheeks as he sat looking out on to the park. " You had better read the letter here," Captain Clinton said. " I may tell you what I did not mention before, that there was 64 THE LETTER. a strong opinion among many at the time, that the confusion between the children arose, not from accident, as was said, but was deliberate, and this letter confirms that view. This is what has hit Edgar so hard." The letter was as follows : — ^'My dearest father, for I cannot call you anything else, I have just heard about my birth from a woman who calls her- self my mother, and who, I suppose, has a right to do so, though certainly I shall never call her or think, of her so. She has told me about her child and yours getting mixed, and how you brought both up in hopes of finding out some day which was which. "Rupert and I had noticed for some days a woman looking at us, and she met me this afternoon and said she had some- thing of extreme importance to tell me. I went with her and she told me the story, and said that I was her son and not yours. I asked her how she knew me from Rupert, and she said that one of us had a small mole on the shoulder. I knew that Rupert had a tiny mole there, and she said that that was the mark by which she knew your son from hers. " Then, father, she told me that she had done it all on pur- pose, and had sacrificed herself in order that I might benefit from it. This Avas all horrible ! And then she actually proposed that I should not only keep silent about this, but offered to come forward and declare that it was her son who had the mole on his shoulder, so that I might get the whole and Rupert none. I don't want to say what I felt. I only told her I would think it over. I have been thinking it over, and I am going away. My dear father and mother, for I shall always think of you so, I thank you for all your love and kindness, which I have received through a horrible fraud. If it had all been an accident, and you had found out for yourselves by the likeness that Rupert was your son, I do not think that I should have minded, at least nothing like so much. I should, of course, have been very grieved that you were not my father and mother, "YOUR UNTTAPrY RDCAIt." 05 and that Ku[)ort and JMadL;*; \vcni not my Ijrotlicr and sisl(ir; l)ut it would have been nobody's fault, and I am sure that you would all still have loved rao. But to know that it has l)een a wicked fraud, that I have been an impostor palmed upon you, that there has been a plot and conspiracy to rob you, and that I have a mother who not only did this, but who could })ropose to mo to go on deceiving you, and even to join in a fresh fraud and to swindle Rupert, is so awful that there* is nothing for me to do but to go away. "I feel sure you will all be sorry, and that though I am not your son you would go on treating me as if I were a younger brother of Rupert's. But I could not bear it, father. I could not accept anything from you, for I should feel that it was the result of this wicked fraud, that it was what this woman, I can- not call her mother, had schemed for me to get. Some day when I have made my way, and when all this may not hurt me so horribly as it seems to do now, I will come and see you all if you will let me, to thank you all for the love and kindness that should never have been mine. But that will not be till I am in a position when I can Avant nothing, for I feel now that were I dying of hunger I could not accept a crust from your hands, for if I did so I should feel I was a party to this abominable fraud. God bless you, dearest father and mother and Rupert and Madge! — Your unhappy Edgar." CHAPTER IV. BACK AT SCHOOL. IT was a long time after they had, with many breaks, read Edgar's letter to the end before Rupert and Madge could compose themselves sufficiently to accompany their father into the drawing-room. They again broke down when they met (650) 66 "WHAT MONEY HAD HE?" their mother; and it was not until Captain Clinton said, "Come, we must all pull ourselves together and see what is to be done, and talk the whole matter over calmly," that by a great effort they recovered their composure. " Now, in the first place, we must try to find Edgar. He has got twenty-four hours' start of us, but that is not very much. I suppose you think, Rupert, that there is no doubt that he went up to town by the night train." "I have no doubt that he got away in time to do so, father; but of course he might have gone by the down train, which passes through Gloucester somewhere about the same time." "I do not think it likely that he did that, Rupert. I should say he was sure to go to London; that is almost always the goal people make for, unless it is in the case of boys Avho want to go to sea, when they would make for Liverpool or some other port. But I don't think Edgar was likely to do that. I don't think he had any special fancy for the sea; so we may assume that he has gone to London. What money had he?" "He had that five-pound note you sent three days ago, father, to clear off any ticks we had, and to pay our journey home. That is what he meant when he said, ' I have taken the note, but I know you won't grudge it me.' I think he had about a pound left — that is about what I had — and I know when the note came he said that the money he had was enough to last him to the end of the term. So he would have the five- pound note untouched when he got to London, and if driven to it he could get, I should think, six or seven pounds for his watch and chain." " That would give him enough to keep him some little time. If he had been a couple of years older I should say that he would probably enlist at once, as you had both made up your minds to go into the army. But although lads do enlist under the proper age, no recruiting officer or doctor would pass him as being eighteen. The first thing to do will be to advertise for him — in the first place to advertise offering HOW COULD YOU SAY SO?" G7 a reward for information as to his wheroal)outs, and in tlic second })lacc advertising to liini direct, Ijeyging him to come home." " But he would never come, father," Rupert said, looking at the letter, which Captain Clinton still held in his hand. " It would depend how we advertised. Suppose I were to say, 'Statement of woman not believed j we are in as much doubt as before.'" The others looked up in intense surprise. "Oh, father, how could you say that?" Rupert exclaimed. " Oh, if we could but say so ! I should be quite, quite content to know that either of us might be her son — that would not matter so much if we felt that you loved us both equally; but how could you say sol" "Because, Rupert," Captain Clinton said gravely, "I still think there is great ground for doubt." "Do you really, father? Oh, I am pleased! I think — yes, I am sure that I could bear now to know that Edgar is your real son, and not I. It would be so different to learn it from your lips, to know that you all love me still, instead of hearing it in the dreadful way Edgar did. But how do you doubt, father? It seemed to me from reading the letter so certain." " Do you really doubt, Percy ? " Mrs. Clinton asked. "I do indeed, Lucy; and I will give you my reasons. In the first place, this woman left India a few weeks after the affair. She certainly could not have seen the children until Ave returned to England, and, so far as we know, has never seen them since. If she has seen them, she never can have spoken to them or come in any sort of contact with them, therefore she cannot possibly have known which is which. When she saAV them at Cheltenham, and Rupert says that she was there more than a week, she met them upon every possible occasion and stared hard at them. It is evident, therefore, that she was for all that time doubtful. No doubt she was doing what we used to do, trying to detect a resemblance. Now, if we in all these years 68 "THERE IS THE MARK." with the boys, constantly watching their ways and listening to their voices, could detect no resemblance, it is extremely im- probable that she was able to do so from merely seeing them a score of times walking in the streets. I do not say that it is impossible she could have done so; I only say it is extremely inaprobable; and I think it much more likely that, finding she could see no resemblance whatever, she determined to speak to the first whom she might happen to find alone." " But there is the mark, father," Rupert said, '* Yes, there is the mark," Mrs. Clinton repeated. "I did not know you had a mark, Eupert. I wonder we never noticed it, Lucy." "It is a very tiny one, father. I never noticed it myself — indeed I can hardly see it before a glass, for it is rather at the back of the shoulder — until Edgar noticed it one day. It is not larger than the head of a good-sized pin. It is a little dark- brown mole. Perhaps it was smaller and lighter when I was a baby; but it must have been there then, or she would not have known about it." " That is so, Eupert; but the mere fact that it is there does not in any way prove that you are our son. Just see what Edgar says about it in his letter. Eemember the woman could not have known which of you boys had the mark; and that she did not know, that is to say, that she had not recognized the likeness, appears from Edgar's letter. This is what he says: ' She said that one of us had a small mole on the shoulder. I knew that Eupert had a tiny mole there; and she said that was the mark by which she knew your son from hers.' Suppose Edgar had replied, ' Yes, I have such a mark on my shoulder,' might she not have said, that is the mark by which I can distinguish my son from that of Captain Clinton'?" The others were silent. Then Mrs. Clinton said, "You know, Percy, I do not wish to prove that one more than the other of the boys is ours; but naturally the woman would wish to benefit her own boy, and if it had been her own boy I'KO AND CON. 69 who liad the ni;irk, why should slie not have told Edgar that she had iiia(U> a luistako, and that it wa« liupert who was lior son ? " "1 do not sup])ose, Lucy, that she cared in the slightest which was her son; her main object, of course, was to extort money. Edgar does not say anything at all about that; and of course at iirst she would try and make out that she was ready to sacrifice herself for him, and would scarcely say that she ex- pected him to make her a handsome allowance when he came into the property, but I have no doubt that was her motive. Well, you see, she had already begun with Edgar. Suppose she said that she had made a mistake, and Eupert was her son. Edgar would have gone in and told him, and would probably have telegraphed to me, so that I could get to liupert before this woman saw him, and she would have known then that her story would have been upset altogether. No court of law would attach any weight to what she might say. She would have to stand confessed as having been concerned in a gross fraud, and with having lied at first; and unless she was in a position to produce corroborative evidence to prove that her child had this mark, her word would go for nothing. " Now, I feel sure that she could produce no such evidence. The mark was almost an invisible one, for it was never after- wards noticed. Had she shown it to any of the women of her acquaintance, they would have come forward when the change of children took place, and have pointed out that the children could be easily distinguished, inasmuch as my child had a peculiar mark. I feel sure that even her husband knew nothing about this mark, for I don't believe he was a party to the fraud. He was terribly upset by the whole business, and took to drink afterwards. There were continual quarrels between his wife and himself, and she left him and went to England. I believe if he could have pointed out which was my child and wdiich was his own, he would have done so. " Certainly, I myself should have attached little or no weight 70 "woman's story not believed." to this woman's story if she had come here with it. I should have turned her out of the house, and have told her to go to a court if she dare and claim the custody of her son. She must have known the weakness of her own position, and as I say, having once opened the matter to Edgar, she determined to stick to it, knowing that a boy taken thus on a sudden would be likely to believe her, whereas if she said that you were her son she would find you already prepared and probably have to confront me too. So you see, Eupert, I can truthfully advertise — 'Woman's story not believed; we are in as much doubt as before; both are regarded by us as our sons.'" "I am glad, father!" Eupert exclaimed excitedly. "Oh! if Edgar had but written to you first, instead of going straight away." " It would have been better," Captain Clinton said, " but I cannot blame him. I think it was natural that he should go as he did. He would have thought that had he written to me it would have seemed as if he wanted something from me, and anything would have seemed better to him than that. How- ever, we must set about doing something at once. I shall go by the nine o'clock local to Swindon, and on by the night mail to town. Then I shall set a detective at work. He may find out from the porters if anyone noticed a lad arrive by the night mail this morning, and shall draw up carefully-worded advertisements. I shall write to Mr. Eiver- Smith before I start. What would you like, Eupert — to go back to-morrow, or to stay away until the end of the term? If you take my advice, you will go back; it would be a pity for you to miss your examinations." " I don't think I could get through the examinations, father, with this on my mind; besides, what should I say to the fellows about Edgar's going away? You see, if we find him before next term begins, we need say nothing about it." " You would have to account for his having run away, Eupert, anyhow. I think you had better go back, my boy, CAI'TAIN ("MNTON's SKAKCII. 71 aiul tell the facts of the story. There is not the sHLi,htest dis- credit ill it, ;uid it would bo better for Edgar himself that it should be known that he went under the iniluence of a mis- take than that all sorts of reasons should be assigned for his absence. There will, of course, be no occasion to go into full details. You would tell the story of the confusion that aiose as to the children, and say that Edgar had received some in- formation which led him erroneously to conclude that the problem was solved, and that he was not my son, and that therefore he had run away so as to avoid receiving any further benefits from the mistake that had been made." " Perhaps that Avould be best, father. Indeed I don't know what I should do if I were to stop here now with nothing to do but to worry about him." " I am sure it will be best, Eupert. I will tell yoiu- master you will return to-morroAV afternoon." Captain Clinton went up to town by the night mail, and in the morning went to a private detective's office. After giving particulars of Edgar's age and appearance he went on : " As he had no luggage with him, and there Avas nothing particular about his personal appearance, I consider it altogether useless to search for him in London; but I think it possible that he may try to enlist." " Sixteen is too young for them to take him, unless he looks a good deal older than he is." " Yes, I quite see that. At the same time that is the only thing that occurs to us as likely for him to try." "Not likely to take to the sea, sir?" " Not at all likely from what we know of his fancies. Still he might do that for a couple of years with a view to enlisting afterwards." "How about going to the States or Canada?" "That again is quite possible." "Had he money with him, sir?" " He had about five pounds in his pocket, and a gold watch 72 THE detective's opinion. and chain that he had only had a few months, and could, I should think, get seven or eight pounds for; but I do not see what he could do to get his living if he went abroad." "No, sir; but then young gents always have a sort of fancy that they can get on well out there, and if they do not mind what they turn to I fancy that most of them can. Is he in any trouble, sir? You will excuse my asking, but a young chap who gets into trouble generally acts in a different sort of way to one who has gone out what we may call venture- some." " No, he has got into no trouble," Captain Clinton said. "He has gone away under a misunderstanding, but there is nothing whatever to make him wish to conceal himself beyond the fact that he will do all he can to prevent my tracing him at present. Here are half a dozen of his photos. If you Avant more I can get them struck off." "I could do with another half-dozen," the mail said. "I will send them down to men who act with me at Southampton, Hull, LiverjDOol, Glasgow, and Plymouth, and will send two or three abroad. He might cross over to Bremen or Hamburg, a good many go that way now, I will look after the recruit- ing offices here myself; but as he is only sixteen, and as you say does not look older, I do not think there is a chance of his trying that. No recruiting sergeant would take him up. No, sir; I should say that if he has no friends he can go to, the chances are he will try to ship for the States or Canada. But what are we to do if we find himf Captain Clinton had not thought of this, "Of course," the man went on, "if you gave an authority for me to send down to each of my agents, they could take steps to stop him," "No," Captain Clinton said after a pause, during which he had been thinking that as he could not swear that Edgar was his son, he was in fact powerless in the matter. " No, I do not wish that done. I have no idea whatever of coercing him. I ''IlUr^.O, CLINTON! UM'K A(iAlN, KWV 7."j Wiuit, if ])ossil)le, to see him and converse with liim Ix-foro lie goes. If that is not possible, and if he is not found until just as the ship is sailing, then I want your agent to wire to me the name of the steamer in which he goes and the port to which it sails. Then if there is a faster steamer going, 1 might be there as soon as he is; if not, I should wash you to telegraph to a private detective firm across the water, which I suppose you could do, to have somebody to meet the steamer as she came in, and without his knowing it to keep him under his eye until I arrive." " I could manage all that, sir, easily enough. I will send olF four of the photographs at once to the ports and the others as soon as I get them, and will go down with the other photo- graph to the recruiting office and arrange with one of the sergeants engaged there to let me know if he turns up, and will send a man down to the docks to watch the ships there. I will send off the other photos directly I get them." There w\as nothing else for Captain Clinton to do, but before he returned home he wrote out a series of advertisements and left them at the offices of the principal papers. They ran as follows: — "If E.C., who left Cheltenham suddenly, will return home he will find that he has acted under a misapprehension. The woman's story was untrustworthy. He is still regarded as a son by P.C. and L.C." Having done this he drove to Paddington, and went down by an afternoon train. Rupert arrived at Cheltenham just as the others had sat down to tea. "Hullo, Clinton! Back again, eh? Glad to see you." Rupert nodded a reply to the greeting. His heart was too full to speak, and he dropped into the seat he was accustomed to use, the others moving up closely to make room for him. A significant glance passed between the boys. They saw that Edgar was not with him, and guessed that there was something wrong. There had been a good deal of wonder among them at the Clintons' sudden disappearance, and although several of 74 "I WOULD RATHER TELL YOU. the boys had seen Rupert go into his brother's dormitory none had seen Edgar, and somehow or other it leaked out that Eupert had started in a cab to the station alone. There had been a good deal of quiet talk among the seniors about it. All agreed that there was something strange about the matter, especially as Robert, when questioned on the subject, had replied that Mr. River-Smith's orders were that he was to say nothing about it. As a precautionary measure orders were given to the juniors that no word about the Clintons' absence was to be said outside the house. After tea was over Rupert went up to Pinkerton. "Pinkerton, I should like to have a talk with you and Easton and two or three others — Skinner, and Mossop, and Templer — yes, and Scudamore." " Just as you like, Clinton. Of course if you like to tell us anything we shall be glad to hear it, but we all know that your brother was not the sort of fellow to get into any dis- honourable sort of scrape, and I can promise you we shall ask no questions if you would rather keep the matter altogether to yourself." " No, I would rather tell you," Rupert said. " I know none of you would think that Edgar would have done anything wrong, but all sorts of stories are certain to go about, and I would rather that the truth of the matter were known. You are the six head fellows of the house, and when I have told you the story you can do as you like about its going further." " Well, if you go up to my study," Pinkerton said, " I will bring the others up." In three or four minutes the party were gathered there. " Look here, Clinton," Easton said, " Pinkerton says he has told you that we are all sure that, whatever this is all about, your brother has done nothing he or you need be ashamed about. I should like to say the same thing, and if it is painful for you to tell it do not say anything about it. We shall be quite content to know that he has left, if he has left — although "IT Dc)i':s Not iMATTKi: A r.ir to us. /;> [ hope wo shall sec him again next term for some good reason or other." "No, I wouhl rather tell it," Ivupcrt said. "It is a curious story, and a very unpleasant one for us, but there is nothing at all for us to be ashamed about." And he went on to tell them the whole story, ending with " You see, whether Edgar or I am the sou of Captain Clinton, or of this sergeant and his scheming wife, is more than we can say." " It does not matter a bit to us," Easton said, bi'eaking the silence of surprise with which they had listened to the story. "We like you and your brother for yourselves, and it does not matter a rap to us, nor as far as I can see to anyone else, who your fathers and mothers were." "I call it horribly hard lines for you both," Skinner put in; " deuced hard lines, especially for your brother." Pinkertou said : " By what you say Captain Clinton and his wife don't care now which is their real son; one is real and the other adopted, and as they regard you in the same light they don't even want to know which is which. Well, now you know that, it seems to me you are all right anyhow. You see your brother didn't know that, and when this woman told him she was his mother, and that the whole thing had been a preconcerted plot on her part, I can quite understand his going straight away. I think we should all have done the same if we had had the same story told to us, and had seen we were intended to be parties to a fraud of that sort. Well, I am glad you told us, but I do not think there is any occasion for the story to go further." "Certainly not," Easton agreed, "it would do no good what- ever; and of course it would never be kept in the house, but would come to be the talk of the whole school. All chat need be said is that Clinton has told us the reason of his brother leaving so suddenly, that we are all of opinion that he acted perfectly rightly in doing so, and that nothing more is to be said about the matter. We will each yive Clinton our word 76 " so IT WAS SETTLED." of honour not to give the slightest hint to anyone about it, or to say that it is a curious story or anything of that sort, but just to stick to it that we have heard all about it and are per- fectly satisfied." "That will certainly be the best plan," Pinkerton agreed; " but I think it would be as well for us to say he has left for family reasons, and that it is nothing in any way connected with himself, and that we hope that he will be back again next term." "Yes, we might say that," Easton agreed; "family reasons mean all sorts of things, and anyone can take their choice out of them. Well, Clinton, I shouldn't worry over this more than you can help. I daresay Edgar will be found in a day or two. At any rate you may be sure that no harm has come to him, or is likely to come to him. If he emigrates, or anything of that sort, he is pretty safe to make his way, and I am sure that whatever he is doing he will always be a gentleman and a good fellow." "That he will," Mossop said cordially. "I hope we should all have done as he has under the same circumstances, but it would be a big temptation to some fellows to have the alter- native of a good fortune and a nice estate on one side, and of going out into the world and making your own living how you can on the other." There was a chorus of assent. " Yes," Easton said, "it is very easy to say 'Do what is right and never mind what comes of it;' but we should all find it very hard to follow it in practice if we had a choice like that before us. Well, you tell your brother when you hear of him, Clinton, that we all think better of him than before, and that whether he is a sergeant's son or a cajDtain's we shall welcome him heartily back, and be proud to shake his hand." And so it was settled, and to the great disappointment of the rest of the house no clue was forthcoming as to the cause of Edgar Clinton leaving so suddenly; but as the monitors and A KIND INVITATION. 77 seniors all seemed i)crfectly satisfied with wliat tlioy liad hoard, it was evident to the others that whatever the cause niii:,ht ho he was not to hlame in the matter. During the short time that remained of the term I\,u])ert got on better than he had expected. While the examination was going on Easton invited him to do his work in his private study, gave him his advice as to the passages likely to be set, and coached him up in difficult points, and he came out higher in his form than he had expected to do. Three days before the school broke up Easton said: "Clinton, I have had a letter from my father this morning, and he will be very glad if you will come doAvn to spend the holidays at our place. And so shall I. There is very good hunting round us. My father has plenty of horses in his stables, and I expect we shall be rather gay, for my brother comes of age in the week after Christmas, and there is going to be a ball and so on. I don't know how you feel about it, but I should say that it would be better for you than being at home where everything will call your brother to your mind, and your being there will make it worse for the others." "I am very much obliged to you, Easton; I should Hke it very much. I will write off to the governor at once and hear what he says. They might like to have me home, and possibly I might be useful in the search for Edgar. As I have told you, I feel sure that he has enlisted. He would be certain to change his name, and it would be no use anyone who did not know him going to look at the recruits." "But we agreed, Clinton, that no one would enlist him at his age, and he is altogether too old to go as a band-boy." "Yes, I know that; and that is what worries me more than anything. Still I cannot help thinking that he will try some- how to get into the army. If he can't, I believe he will do anything he can to get a living until they enlist him." "I don't think he can anj-how pass as eighteen, Clinton. If it was for anything else he might get up with false moustache or 78 CAPTAIN CLINTON APPROVES. something; but you see he has got to pass a strict examination by a surgeon. I have heard that lots of fellows do enlist under age, but then some fellows look a good bit older than they are. I don't believe any doctor would be humbugged into believing that Edgar is anything like eighteen." "Well, I will write to my father this afternoon and hear what he says. If he thinks I cannot do any good and they don't want me at home, I shall be very pleased to come to you." Captain Clinton's letter came by return of post. He said that he was very pleased Eupert had had an invitation that would keep him away. "We have received no news whatever of Edgar, and I don't think that it would be of any use for you to join in the search for him. There is no saying where he may have gone or what he may be doing. I agree with you that he will most likely take any job that offers to keep him until he can enlist. Arrangements have been made with one of the staff sergeants at the head-quarters of recruiting in Lon- don to let us know if any young fellow answering to Edgar's description comes up to be medically examined. So we shall catch him if he presents himself there. Unfortunately there are such a number of recruiting depots all over the countiy, that there is no saying where he may try to enlist — that is, if he does try. However, at present there is certainly nothing you can do. I should like to have you home, and your mother says she should like you too, but I do think that for her sake it is better you should not come. As long as you are away there is nothing to recall at every moment the fact that Edgar has gone, whereas if you were here his absence would be constantly be before her. She is quite ill with anxiety, and Dr. Wilkinson agrees with me that change is most desirable. I am sure she would not hear of going away if you Avere at home; it would give her a good excuse for staying here; but when she hears that you are not coming I think I may be able to persuade her to listen to Wilkinson's opinion, and in A PLEASANT HOLIDAY. iV that case I sl)all take her and Madge down to Nice at once. If I can get her there by Cliristmas so much the Ijettcr, for Christmas at home would be terribly trying to us all. (Jnce we are there, we can wander about for two or three months in Italy or Spain, or across to Algeria or Egypt — anything to dis- tract her mind." Accordingly Rupert accepted Easton's invitation, and went with him to his father's in Leicestershire. Had it not been for the uncertainty about Edgar he would have enjoyed his holidays greatly. Although he had always joined to a certain extent in the chaff of his school-fellows at Easton's care about his dress and little peculiarities of manner, he had never shared in Skin- ner's prejudices against him, and always said that he could do anything well that he chose to turn his hand to, and had appreciated his readiness to do a kindness to anyone Avho really needed it. It had been his turn now, and the friendly companionship of the elder boy had been of the greatest value to him. Easton had never said much in the way of sympathy, which indeed would have jarred Rupert's feelings, but his kindness had said more than words could do; and Rupert, as he looked back, felt ashamed at the thought that he had often joined in a laugh about him. At home the points that had seemed peculiar at school were unnoticeable. The scrupulous attention to dress that had there been in strong contrast to the general carelessness of the others in that respect, seemed but natural in his own house, where there were a good many guests staying. Rupert and Edgar had always been more particular at home than at school; but Easton was the same, indeed Rupert thought that he was if anything less particular now than he had been at River- Smith's. A week after Christmas Rupert received a letter from his father, written at Nice, saying that a letter from Edgar had been forwarded on from home, and giving the brief words in Avhich the lad said that he was well, and that they might be 80 NEWS OF EDGAR. under no uneasiness respecting him. " This does not tell us much," Captain Clinton went on, "but we are very pleased, inasmuch as it seems that Edgar does not mean altogether to drop out of our sight, but will, we hope, write from time to time to let us know that at any rate he is well. The letter has the London post-mark, but of course that shows nothing; it may have been written anywhere and sent to anyone — perhaps to a waiter at an hotel at which he stopped in London, and with whom he had arranged to post any letters that he might inclose to him. The letter has greatly cheered your mother, who, in spite of all I could say, has hitherto had a dread that Edgar in his distress might have done something rash. I have never thought so for an instant. I trust that my two boys are not only too well principled, but too brave to act a coward's part, whatever might befall them. Your mother, of course, agreed with me in theory; but while she admitted that Edgar would never if in his senses do such a thing, urged that his distress might be so great that he would not be responsible for what he was doing. Happily this morbid idea has been dissi- pated by the arrival of the letter, and I have great hopes now that she will rouse herself, and will shake off the state of silent brooding which has been causing me so much anxiety. It was but this morning that we received the letter, and already she looks brighter and more like herself than she has done since you brought us the news of Edgar's disappearance." This news enabled Rupert to enjoy the remainder of the holidays much more than he had done the first fortnight. He and Edgar had both been accustomed to ride since they had been children, and had in their Christmas holidays for years accompanied their father to the hunting field, at first upon ponies, but the previous winter on two light-weight carrying horses he had bought specially for them. Mr. Easton had several hunters, and liupert, who was well mounted, thoroughly enjoyed the hunting, and returned to school with his nerves braced up, ready for work. A RECONCILIATION. 81 " T won't say anything against Easton a^ain," Skinner said A\hon he lieartl from liupert how pleasant his hoHdays liad been made for liim. *' T noticed how he took to you and made things smooth for you the last ten days of the term, and I fully meant to tell him that I was sorry I had not understood him liotter before; only, in the first place, I never happened to have a good opportunity, and in the second place I don't know that I ever tried to make one. However, I shall tell him now. It is not a pleasant thing to be obliged to own that you have liehaved badly, but it is a good deal more unpleasant to feci it and not have the pluck to say so." Accordingly the next time Easton came into the senior study. Skinner went up to him and said: " Easton, I want to tell you that I am uncommonly sorry that I have set myself against you because you have been more particular about your dress and things than the rest of us, and because you did not seem as keen as we were about football and things. I know that I have behaved like an ass, and I should like to be friends now if you will let me." " Certainlj^ I will, Skinner," Easton said, taking the hand he held out. " I don't know that it was altogether your fault. My people at home are rather particular about our being tidy and that sort of thing, and when I came here and some of you rather made fun of me about it, I think that I stuck to it all the more because it annoyed you. I shall be going up for Sandhurst this term, and I am very glad to be on good terms with all you fellows before I leave ; so don't let us say anything more about it." And with another shake of the hands their agreement to be friends was ratified. The term between Christmas and Easter was always the dullest of the year. The house matches at football were over. Although a game was sometimes played, there was but a languid interest in it. Paper-chases were the leading incident in the term, and there was a general looking forward to spring ( 650 ) F 82 ANOTHER LETTER. weather, when cricket could begin and the teams commence practice for the matches of the following term. Easton was going up in the summer for the examination for the line. He was not troubling himself specially about it; and indeed his getting in was regarded as a certainty, for Mr. Southley had said that he would be safe for the Indian Civil if he chose to try, and considered it a great pity that he was going up for so comparatively an easy competition as that for the line. He occasionally went for a walk with Eupert, and while chatting with him frequently about Edgar, was continu- ally urging him not to let his thoughts dwell too much upon it, but to stick to his work. The watch at the various ports had long since been given up, for had Edgar intended to emigrate he would certainly have done so very shortly after his arrival in London, as his means would not have permitted him to make any stay there. " I think it is very thoughtful of Edgar," Easton said one day when Eupert told him that he had heard from his father that another letter had arrived. " So many fellows when they run away or emigrate, or anything of that sort, drop writing altogether, and do not seem to give a thought to the anxiety those at home are feeling for them. He is evidently deter- mined that he will go his own way and accept no help from your people, and under the circumstances I can quite enter into his feelings; but, you see, he does not wish them to be anxious or troubled about him, and I don't think there is anything for you to worry about, Clinton. He may be having a hardish time of it; still he is no doubt getting his living somehow or other, and I don't know that it will do him any harm. " T think he is the sort of fellow to make his way in what- ever line he takes up, and though what he has learnt here may not be of much use to him at the start, his having had a good education is sure to be of advantage to him afterwards. A fellow who could hold his own in a tussle such as we had with the Greenites last term can be trusted to make a good fight in "I DO NOT DO TT ON PRTNOTPLK." 83 any tiling. At any rate it is of no use yonr worrying yourself about him. You see, you will be going up in a year's time for your examination for the line, and you will have to stick to it pretty steadily if you are to get through at the first trial. It won't help matters your worrying about him, and wherever he is and whatever he is doing he is sure to keep his eye on the lists, and he will feel just as much pleasure in seeing your name there as he would have done if he had been here with you. So I should say, work steadily and play steadily. You have a good chance of being in the college boat next term ; that and shooting will give you enough to do. " It is no use sticking to it too hard. I was telling Skinner yesterday he will regulftrly addle his brain if he keeps on grinding as he is doing now. But it is of no use talking to Skinner; when his mind is set on a thing he can think of nothing else. Last term it was football, now it is reading. It must be an awful nuisance to be as energetic as he is. I cannot see why he should not take life comfortably." " He would say," Eupert laughed, " he cannot see why he should do things by fits and starts as you do, Easton." " Ah ! but I do not do it on principle," Easton argued. " I am all for taking it quietly, only sometimes one gets stirred up and has to throw one's self into a thing. One does it, you know, but one feels it a nuisance — an unfair wear and tear of the system." " Your system does not seem to suffer seriously, Easton." "No; but it might if one were called upon to do these things often. But it is time for us to turn back, or we shall be late for tea." 84 Edgar's arrival in London. CHAPTER V. EDGAR had found but little difficulty in getting out from the house. He had timed himself so as to arrive at the station just before the train left for Gloucester, and taking his ticket, had slipped into an empty carriage. At Gloucester there was half an hour to wait before the up-train came in. This time he got into a carriage with several other people. He did not want to spend the night thinking, and as long as his fellow-passengers talked he resolutely kept his attention fixed on what they were saying. Then when one after the other composed themselves for a sleep, he sat with his eyes closed, thinking over his school-days. He had already, while he lay tossing on his bed, thought over the revelation he had heard from every point of view. He had exhausted the subject, and would not allow his thoughts to return to it. He now fought the football match of the Greenites over again in fancy. It seemed to him that it was an event that had taken place a long time back, quite in the dim distance, and he was wondering vaguely over this when he too fell asleep, and did not wake up until the train arrived at Paddington. It was with a feeling of satisfaction that he stepped out on to the platform. Now there was something to do. It was too early yet to see about lodgings. He went to a little coffee-house that was already open for the use of the workmen, had some breakfast there, and then walked about for two or three hours until London was astir, leaving his things at the coffee-house. Then he went to a pawnbroker's and pawned his watch and chain. Then, having fetched his things from the coffee-house, he went into the Edgware Road and took an omnibus down to Victoria and then walked on across Vauxhall Bridge, and set to work to look for loddnsfs. Edgar's resolution. 85 IIo wjis not long in finding a bed-room to let, and here ho installed himself. He was convinced Captain Clinton would have a \igilant search made for him, but he thought that he was now fairly safe, however sharp the detectives might be in their hunt for him. He felt deeply the sorrow there would be at home, for he knew that up to now he and Rupert had been loved equally, and that even the discovery that he had had no right to the care and kindness he had received would make no great difference in their feeling towards him. Had the change of children been really the result of accident, he would not have acted as he had done. He himself had had no hand in the fraud, but were he to accept anything now from Captain Clinton he felt that he would be an accessary to it. Had not his mother, his own mother, proposed that he should take part in the plot, that he should go on deceiving them, and even that he should rob Rupert alto- gether of his inheritance 1 It was too horrible to think of. There was nothing for it that he could see but for him to go out utterly from their lives, and to fight his way alone until he could, at any rate, show them that he needed nothing and would accept nothing. He was dimly conscious himself that he was acting unkindly and unfairly to them, and that after all they had done for him they had a right to have a say as to his future ; but at present his pride was too hurt, he was too sore and humiliated to listen to the whisper of conscience, and his sole thought was to hide himself and to make his own way in the world. Lest his resolution should be shaken he carefully abstained from a perusal of the papers, lest his eye might fall upon an advertisement begging him to return. His mind was made up that he would enlist. He knew that at present he could not do so as a private, but he thought that he might be accepted as a trumpeter. He thought it probable that they would guess that such was his intention, and would have given a description of him at the recruiting oflices. It was for this reason that he determined to live as long as he could upon his 86 "I HAVE NO FATHER THAT I KNOW OF." money before trying to enlist, as if some time elapsed he would be less likely to be recognized as answering the description that might be given by Captain Clinton than if he made the attempt at once. From Vauxhall he often crossed to West- minster, and soon struck up an accjuaintance with some of the recruiting sergeants. " Want to enlist, eh ? " one of them said. " I am thinking of entering as a trumpeter." "Well, you might do that. There are plenty of younger lads than you are trumpeters in the cavalry. I will look at the list and see what regiments have vacancies; but I doubt whether they will take you without a letter from your father saying that you are enlisting with his consent." " I have no father that I know of," Edgar said. " Well, then, it is likely they will want a certificate from a clergyman or your schoolmaster as to character; and I expect," the sergeant said shrewdly, "you would have a difficulty in getting such a paper." Edgar nodded. " Well, lad, if you have quite made up your mind about it, my advice would be, do not try here. In London they are a lot more particular than they are down in the country, and 1 should say you are a good deal more likely to rub through at Aldershot or Canterbury than you would be here. They are more particular here. You see, they have no great interest in fdling up the ranks of a regiment, while when you go to the regiment itself, the doctors and officers and all of them like seeing it up to its full strength, so their interest is to pass a recruit if they can. I have known scores and hundreds of men rejected here tramp down to Aldershot, or take the train if they had money enough in their pockets to pay the fare, and get passed without a shadow of difficulty." " I would rather not enlist for the next month or two," Ed- gar said; "there might be somebody asking after me." " If you will take my advice, lad, you will go back to your TAKING LESSONS. 87 frioiuls. Tlicre arc many young fellows run away from home, but most of them are precious sorry for it afterwards." " I am not likely to be sorry for it, sergeant, and if I am 1 shall not go back. Do you think I could hnd anyone who would give me lessons on the trumpet?" "I should say that there would not be any difficulty about that. There is nothing you cannot have in London if you have got money to pay for it. If you were to go up to the Albany Barracks and get hold of the trumpet-major, he would tell you who would teach you. He would not do it himself, I daresay, but some of the trumpeters would be glad to give you an hour a day if you can pay for it. Of course it would save you a lot of trouble afterwards if you could sound the trumpet before you joined." Edgar took the advice, and found a trumpeter in the Blues who agreed to go out with him for an hour every day on to Primrose Hill, and there teach him to sound the trumpet. He accordingly gave up his room at Vauxhall, and moved across to the north side of Eegent's Park. For six weeks he worked for an hour a day with his instructor, who, upon his depositing a pound with him as a guarantee for its return, borrowed a trumpet for him, and with this Edgar would start of a morning, and walking seven or eight miles into the country, spend hours in eliciting the most mournful and startling sounds from the instrument. At the end of the six weeks his money was nearly gone, although he had lived most economically, and accordingly, after returning the trumpet to his instructor, who, although he had been by no means chary of abuse while the lessons were going on, now admitted that he had got on first-rate, he went down to Aldershot, where his friend the recruiting sergeant had told him that they were short of a trumpeter or two in the 1st Hussars. It was as well that Edgar had allowed the two months to pass before endeavouring to enlist, for after a month had been 88 AT ALDERSHOT. vainly spent in the search for him, Rupert had suggested to his father that although too young to enlist in the ranks Edgar might have tried to go in as a trumpeter, and inquiries had been made at all the recruiting depots whether a lad answering to his description had so enlisted. The sergeant had given him a note to a sergeant of his acquaintance in the Hussars. " I put it pretty strong, young un," his friend had said when he gave him the note; "mind you stick to what I say." The sergeant had indeed — incited partly perhaps by a liking for the lad, partly by a desire to return an equivalent for the sovereign with which Edgar had presented him — drawn somewhat upon his imagination. " I have known the young chap for a very long time," he said; "his father and mother died years ago, and though I am no relation to him he looks upon me as his guardian as it were. He has learned the trumpet a bit, and will soon be able to sound all the calls. He will make a smart young soldier, and will, I expect, take his place in the ranks as soon as he is old enough. Do the best you can for him, and keep an eye on him." " I will take you round to the trumpet-major," the sergeant said; "he had better go with you to the adjutant. You know what Sergeant M'Bride says in this letter?" "No, I don't know exactly what he says. He told me he would introduce me to you, and that you would, he was sure, do your best to put me through." "Well, you had better hear what he does say. It is always awkward to have misunderstandings. He says you have lost your father and mother; you understand that?" " That's right," Edgar said quietly. And that he has known you for a very long timel" Edgar nodded. " It seems to me a very long time," he added. " And that though he is no actual relation of yours he con- siders he stands in the light of your guardian. That is im- portant, you know." "YOU STICK TO THAT." 89 " I \\ ill leiUL'iuber that," Edgar said, " There is certainly no one as far as I know who has a Letter right than Sergeant M'Bride to advise me, or give me permission to enlist." " AVell, 30U stick to that and you are all right. Now, come along." " I wonder who the young chap is," the sergeant said to himself as they crossed the barrack yard. "As to what M 'Bride said, we know all about thatj I have been on the recruiting statf myself. But I think the young un was speaking the truth. He has lost his father and mother, he has known M'Bride for some time, and he has got no one who has any right to interfere Avith him. Eum, too. The boy is a gentle- man allover, though he has rigged himself out in those clothes. Well, we are short of trumpeters, and I don't suppose the adjutant will inquire very closely." The trumpet-major was quite willing to do his share of the business. He was glad to fill up one of the vacancies, especially as it seemed that the new-comer would soon be able to take his place in the ranks; and after asking a few questions he went across with him to the adjutant. The latter looked at Edgar critically. " Smart young fellow," he said to himself. " Got into some scrape at home, I suppose, and run away. Of course he has some got-up lie ready. Well, sergeant, what is if?" " Lad wishes to enlist as a trumpeter, sir. Here is a letter from his next friend, Sergeant M'Bride of the 18th Hussars. Lad's father and mother dead. M'Bride stands in place of guardian." " A likely story," the adjutant muttered to himself. " What is your name, lad]" " I enlist as Edward Smith," Edgar said, "age sixteen." "Parents dead]" " I lost them when I was a child, sir." "Who were they?" "My father was a sergeant in the 30th Foot, sir." 90 " RATHER A TOUGH CASE THAT. The adjutant was watching him narrowly. " Either he is telling the truth," he said to himself, " or he is one of the calmest young liars I have ever come across." " And there is no one who has any legal right to control you or to object to your enlisting''^" " No one, sir." "You cannot play, I suppose?" "I have been learning the trumpet for some little time, sir, and can sound a few of the calls." " Well, I suppose that will do, sergeant. You had better take him across to the doctor. If he passes him put him up for the night, and bring him here to-morrow at twelve o'clock to be sworn in." "Kather a tough case that," he said to himself as the trumpet- major left with the young recruit. "There is not a doubt the boy is lying, and yet I could have declared he was speaking the truth. Of course he may be the son of a non-commissioned officer, and have been brought up and educated by someone. He looks a gentleman all over, and speaks like one. Well, it is no business of mine;" and the adjutant gave the matter no further thought. The next day Edgar was sworn in. The colonel, hearing from the adjutant that he had questioned the boy, and that there was no impediment to his enlisting, passed him without a remark, and Edgar was at once taken to the regimental tailor and measured for his uniform, and half an hour later was marched out with four or five of the other trumpeters beyond the confines of the camp, and was there set to work at the calls. His work was by no means hght. He was at once sent into the riding-school, and he found it a very different thing to satisfy the riding-master and his sergeants than it had been to learn to sit a horse at home. However, his previous pracfice in that way rendered the work much easier for him than it would otherwise have been, and he was not very long in passing out from the squad of recruits. Then he had two or three BARRACK LIFE. 91 hours a day of practice with the trumpet, an hour a day at gymnastics, and in the afternoon two hours of school. The last item was, however, but child's play, and as soon as the instructor saw that the lad could without dilliculty take a first-class, he employed him in aiding to teach others. The evening was the only time he had to himself; then, if he chose to take the trouble to dress, he could go out into the town or stroll through the camp or take a walk. If disiu: clined for this there was the cavalry canteen, with a large concert-room attached, where entertainments were given by music-hall singers brought down from London. The trumpeters and bandsmen had a barrack-room to themselves. Edgar, who had a healthy appetite, found the food of a very different description to that to which he had been accustomed. Al- though up at six o'clock in the morning, even in the winter, as it was, there was nothing to eat until eight. Then there was a mug of a weak fluid called tea, and an allowance of bread. The dinner, which was at one, consisted of an amount of meat scarcely sufficient for a growing boy; for although had the allow- ance consisted entirely of flesh, it would have been ample, it was so largely reduced by the amount of bone and fat that the meat was reduced to a minimum. However, when eked out with potatoes and bread it sufficed well enough. Tea at six consisted, like breakfast, of a mug of tea and bread. Edgar found, however, that the Spartan breakfasts and teas could be supplemented by additions purchased at the canteen. Here pennyworths of butter, cheese, bacon, an egg, a herring, and many similar luxuries were obtainable, and two- pence of his pay was invariably spent on breakfast, a penny sufficing for the addition to his tea. He found that he soon got on well with his comrades. It was like going to a fresh school. There was at first a good deal of rough chaff, but as soon as it was found that he could take this good-temperedly, and that if pushed beyond a fair limit he was not only ready to fight but was able to use his 92 "HE FOUND HIS PAY SUFFICIENT," fists with much more science than any of the other trumpeters, he was soon left alone, and indeed became a favourite with the bandsmen. Two months after he joined he was appointed to a troop. He found, however, that he did not have to accom- pany them generally on parade. The regiment, like all others at home, was very short of its complement of horses, and only one trumpeter to each squadron was mounted. Edgar, how- ever, cared little for this. He considered his first two years' work as merely a probation which had to be gone through before he could take his place in the ranks as a trooper. He found his pay sufficient for his needs. Although he had in the old days been in the habit of drinking beer, he had made a resolution to abstain from it altogether on joining the regi- ment. He determined to gain his stripes at the earliest pos- sible opportunity, and knew well enough, from what he had heard Captain Clinton say, that drink was the curse of the army, and that men, although naturally sober and steady, were sometimes led into it, and thereby lost all chance of ever rising. He had never smoked, and it was no privation to him to abstain from tobacco, and he had therefore the whole of his pay, after the usual deduction for stoppages, at his disposal for food, and had always a little in his pocket to lend to any comrade who had the bad luck to be put on heavy stoppages by the loss of some of his necessaries. In this respect he himself suff'ered somewhat heavily at first. Accustomed at school to leave his things carelessly about with- out the slightest doubt as to their safety, he was astonished and shocked to find that a very much laxer code of morality prevailed in the army, and that any necessaries left about instantly disappeared. The first week after joining he lost nearly half the articles that had been served out to him, and was for some months on heavy stoppages of pay to replace them. The lesson, however, had its effect, and he quickly learnt to keep a sharp look-out over his things. He was soon dis- missed from school, obtainina; his first-class at the examination. Edgar's pursuits. 93 which took jilaco two months after he joined, and this gave him time to attend the fencing-school, and to give more time to gymnastics. When once accustomed to his work he found his life an easy and pleasant one, and had far more time at his disposal than had been the case at school. He resolutely avoided dwelling on the past, and whenever he found himself thinking of what had so long been home, he took up a book, or Avent out for a walk, or engaged in some occupation that served to distract his thoughts. He missed the games. Football was occasionally played, but there was no observance of rules, and after trying it once or twice he gave it up in disgust. He often joined in a game at fives, and practised running and jump- ing, so as to be able to take part in the regimental sports in the spring. When Easter had passed and the weather became bright and pleasant he often took long walks alone, for it was seldom he could find anyone willing to accompany him. He had learnt drawing at Cheltenham, and as he found that it would be use- ful for him when he obtained the rank of a non-commissioned officer to make sketches and maps to send in with reports of any country reconnoitred, he accustomed himself to do this on his walks, jotting down the features of the country, notic- ing the spots where roads came in, the width of the bridges across the canals and the nature of their banks, and taking sketches of what appeared to him positions that would be occupied to check a pursuing force, or to be taken up by an advanced one. At this time, too, he joined a class for signalling, and found it highly interesting, and before the end of the summer could send a message or read one with flags or flash-lights. As soon as the summer really began he took to cricket, and here he speedily attracted the attention of the officers. He had been the best bowler in the second eleven, and would have been in the first the next season at Cheltenham. But it was some little 94 "HE PLAYS IN GOOD FORM." time before his proficiency as a bowler became known, although it was soon seen that his batting was far above the average. " That youngster handles his bat well, Moffat," one of the lieutenants said to the captain, who was the most energetic cricketer among the officers, and who with one or two of the sergeants generally made up the team when the regimental eleven })layed against that of another corps. " Yes, he plays in good form, doesn't hel Who is the young fellow at the wicket now, sergeant 1 " "He is trumpeter of D troop, sir. He only joined three months ago, but he could play a bit when he came, and got posted to a troop before two others who joined four or five months before him." "The man who is bowling now is not up to much, sergeant. Suppose you take the ball for an over or two; I should like to see how that young fellow would stand up to your bowling." The sergeant, who was one of the regimental bowlers, took the ball. Edgar, who had been driving the previous bowler in all directions, at once played carefully, and for an over or two contented himself with blocking the balls, then one came a little wide and he cut it to leg for four. Captain Moffat took off his coat and waistcoat and took the end facing the sergeant, and began to bowl some slow twisting balls, that were in strong contrast to the fast delivery of the sergeant. Edgar felt now that he was being tried, and played very cautiously. There were no runs to be made off such bowl- ing until the bowler became careless or tired. At last a ball came rather farther than usual. Edgar stepped out to meet it, and drove it nearly straight forward and scored four, and it was not until his score ran up to thirty that he was at last caught. "You will do, Smith," Captain Moffat said approvingly. " Where did you learn to play cricket 1 " " I learned at school, sir." "Ah! well, they taught you that well if they taught you A BOWI,KR SHORT. 95 nothing else. You go on practising, and I will give you a chance to play for the regiment the first time that there is a vacancy." Two or three matches were played before the chance came. Then Sergeant Stokes, the bowler, hurt his hand the day before they were going to play the Eifle Brigade, which was considered the strongest team in camp. " This is an unlucky business, sergeant," Captain Moffat said to him as they were talking over next day's play. " I thought if we had luck we might make a good fight with the EiHes. Bowling is never our strongest point, and now you are out of it we shall make a very poor show. Are there any of the men outside the eleven who show any bowling talent ? " The sergeant shook his head, " Not one of them, sir. I hoped Corporal Holland would have made a bowler, but he seems to have gone off rather than come on. No; we must trust to the bowlers we have got. There are four or five of them who are not bad, though except yourself, sir, there is nothing, so to speak, to depend on." "You cannot depend on me, sergeant; there is no certainty about my bowling. Sometimes I do pretty fairly, at other times I get hit all over the field. No; my proper place is wicket- keeping. I should never leave that if we had two or three bowlers we could depend upon. Well, we must go in for run making. "I do not think that we can do better than put on that young trumpeter till you can play again. I have watched him several times at practice, and he always keeps his wickets up well, and hits freely whenever he gets a chance." " Very well, sir. I will warn him that he will be wanted to-morrow. There can be no harm in trying him for once any- how." There was some little surprise among the men who played cricket at hearing that Trumpeter Smith was to play in the eleven against the Eifles, and some little s;rumblin2; amonc; 96 "DO YOU BOWL AT ALL]" those who had hoped to be the next choice. However, all agreed that he was a very likely youngster. The Hussars won the toss, and went in first. The bowling of the Rifles was deadly, and the ten wickets fell for fifty-two runs. Edgar was the last to go in, and did not receive a single ball, his partner succumbing to the very first ball bowled after Edgar had gone out to the wicket. Then the Eifles went in, and the loss of the Hussars' fast bowler soon made itself felt. Two of the best bats of the Eifles were at the wicket, and in spite of sev- eral changes of bowling, seventy-four runs were scored without a separation being made. Captain Mofl'at looked round the field desj^airingly. He had tried all the men on whom he had any dependence. His own bowling had been very severely pun- ished, and he had retired when thirty runs had been scored and was reluctant to take the ball again. As he was standing undecided after an over in which twelve runs had been scored, his eye fell on Edgar as he ran lightly across to take up his place on the opposite side. "Smith! " Edgar ran up to him. "Do you bowl at alH " " I have not bowled this season, sir, but I used to bowl pretty fairly." " Very well, then, take the ball at this end after the next over. I am going to try Smith at this end," he said to the young lieutenant who was long- stop. He shrugged his shoulders. " Well, there is one thing, he cannot make a worse mess of it than we are making already." When the over was concluded, Edgar took the ball. The year that had elapsed since he had last played, and the gym- nastics and hard exercise, had strengthened his muscles greatly, and as he tossed the ball from hand to hand while the field took their places he felt that he was more master of it than he had been before. He had then been a remarkably fast bowler for his age, and would have been in the eleven had it not hap- pened that it already possessed three unusually good bowlers. The first ball he sent up was a comparatively slow one ; he THE MATCH SAVED. 97 ^\•antcd to try his hand. It was dead on the wicket, and was Mocked; then he drew his breath, and sent the next ball in with all his force. A shont rose from the Hussars as two of the wickets went flying into the air. Another player came out, but at the fourth ball of the over his middle stump was levelled. ''^\'ilat do you think of that, Langley?" Captain Moffat asked tiie long-stop as they walked together to the other end. "We have found a treasure. He bowls about as fast as any one I have ever seen, and every ball is dead on the wicket." " He is first-class," the lieutenant, who was an old Etonian, said. "I wonder where he learnt to play cricket"?" The wickets fell fast, and the innings concluded for 98, Edgar taking seven wickets for twelve runs. Captain Moffat put him in third in the second innings, and he scored twenty-four before he was caught out, the total score of the innings amount- ing to 126. The Eifles had therefore eighty-one runs to get to win. They only succeeded in making seventy-six, eight of them being either bowled out by Edgar or caught off' his bowl- ing. After this he took his place regularly in the Hussar team, and it was generally acknowledged that it was owing to his bowling that the regiment that season stood at the head of the Aldershot teams. CHAPTER VI. EGYPT. NATURALLY his prowess at cricket made Trumpeter Smith a popular figure in the regiment, and even at the officers' mess his name was frequently mentioned, and many guesses were ventured as to who he was and what school he came from. That he was a gentleman by birth nobody doubted. There 98 GENTLEMEN IN THE RANKS. was nothing unusual in that, for all the cavalry regiments con- tain a considerable number of gentlemen in their ranks; men of this class generally enlisting in the cavalry in preference to the other arms of the service. It was, however, unusual for one to enlist at Edgar's age. Many young men, after having failed to gain a commission by competition, enlist in hopes of working up to one through the ranks. Another class are the men who having got into scrapes of one kind or another, run through their money, and tired out their friends, finally enlist as the only thing open to them. The first class are among the steadiest men in the regiment, and speedily work their way up among the non-commissioned ofiicers. The second class are, on the other hand, among the wildest and least reputable men in the ranks. They are good men in a campaign where pluck and endurance and high spirits are most valuable, but among the worst and most troublesome when there is little to do and time hangs heavily on hand. There were two of the sergeants who had failed in the ex- amination for commissions, and were hoping some day to obtain them. One had been five years in the regiment, the other three. Their attention had first been called to Edgar by his getting a first-class in the examination, which at once stamped him as having had an education greatly superior to that of the majority of recruits. His position in the regimental cricket team further attracted their attention, and they took an opportunity to speak to him when it happened they were walking together and met Edgar returning from an afternoon's ramble across the country. "Well, Smith, how do you like soldiering 1 " " I like it very well; I don't think that there is anything to complain of at all." " It is better than grinding away at Latin and Greek and mathematics, and that sort of thing," the younger of the two sergeants said with a smile. " There are advantages both ways, sergeant." GOOD ADVICE. 99 " So there are, lad. Of tlic two I like drill better than grind- ing at books, worse luck; if I had been fond of books I should not bo wearing these stripes. I asked the band-master if you were learning an instrument. He said you were not. So I suppose you mean to give up your trumpet and join the ranks as soon as you get to eighteen f " Yes. I should not care about being in the band." " Your cricket is not a bad thing for you," the elder of the two men said. "It brings you into notice, and will help you to get your stripes earlier than you otherwise would do; as a man who does his regiment credit either as a good shot or as a cricketer or in the sports is sure to attract notice, and to be pushed on if he is steady and a smart soldier. If you won't mind my giving you a bit of advice, I should say don't try to push yourself forward. Sometimes young fellows spoil their chances by doing so. Some of the old non-commissioned officers feel a bit jealous when they see a youngster likely to make his way up, and you know they can make it very hot for a fellow if they like. So be careful not to give them a chance. Even if you are blown up when you do not deserve it, it is better to hold your tongue than to kick against it. Cheeking a non-commissioned ofiicer never pays." "Thank you, sergeant," Edgar said quietly; "I am much obliged to you for your advice." "An uncommonly good style of young fello^T-," Sergeant Netherton, who was the son of a colonel in the army, and had been educated at Harrow, said to his companion. "Comes from a good school, I should say. Must have got into some baddish scrape, or he never would be here at his age." " It does not quite follow," the other replied. " His father may have died or burst up somehow, and seeing nothing before him but a place at a clerk's desk or enlisting he may have taken this alternative; and not a bad choice either. For, putting aside altogether the chance of getting a commission, which is a pretty slight one, there is no pleasanter life for a 100 NOT A BAD CAREER. steady, well-conducted young fellow who has had a fair education than the army. He is sure of getting his stripes in a couple of years after enlisting. A non-commissioned officer has enough pay to live comfortably; he has no care or anxiety of any sort; he has more time to himself than a man in any other sort of business. There are no end of staff appointments open to him if he writes a good hand, and does not mind clerk work. If he goes in for long service he has every chance of being regimental sergeant-major before he has done, and can leave the service with a pension sufficient to keep him in a quiet way." " Yes, that is all very well, Summers, but he cannot marry. That is to say, if he has, as we are supposing, been born and educated as a gentleman, he cannot marry the sort of woman he would like as a wife." " No, there is that drawback," the other laughed. " But then, you see, if he had been obliged to take a small clerkship lead- ing to nothing, he could hardly invite a young countess to share it with him." As Edgar walked back to barracks he thought over the advice that had been given him, and recognized its value. He knew that the chances of his ever obtaining a commission were exceedingly small, and that even young men whose fathers were officers of high standing and considerable influence seldom obtain a commission under six or seven years' service, and that the majority of commissions from the ranks are given to old non-commissioned officers who were made quarter- masters or pay-masters. He had not entered the service, as had the two non-commissioned officers with whom he had been speaking, for the express purpose of gaining a commission, but simply because he had always had a fancy for soldiering, and because it seemed at the time he left Cheltenham the only thing open to him. He had resolved from the first that he would regularly put by a portion of his pay, so that he could at any time purchase Edgar's tlans. 101 his discharge if lie wished to, should ho see .any opening in which he could embark by the time ho reached the age of throe or four and twenty. He would have gained experience, and might then, if ho liked, emigrate to one of the colonies. He resolved that when Avinter came he would go into one of the regimental workshops and learn a trade, either saddlery or farrier}', which would enable him to earn his living for a time abroad until he saw something bettor to do. At school Edgar had held his place rather by steady work than by natural talent. Rupert was the more clever of the two, but Edgar's dogged perseverance had placed him in a more ad- vanced position on the modern side than Paipert held on the classical, and in whatever position he might find himself his perseverance, power of work, and strong common sense were likely to carry him through, Edgar was conscious himself that he had acted hastily and wrongly in leaving Cheltenham as he had done, and yet he felt that if again placed in the same circumstances he should do the same. Captain Clinton had certainly a right to have a voice in his future, and yet he felt so keenly the dishonour of the fraud in which he had been an unconscious accomplice, that he could not have brought himself to accept any assistance at Captain Clinton's hands. Still he knew that those at home — for he still thought of it as home — would be feeling much anxiety about him, and once a month he Avrote a short letter to Captain Clinton saying that he was well and was keeping himself comfortably. These letters he gave in charge of com- rades going up for a day's leave to London to post there for him. One day Edgar had gone with a dozen others to bathe in the canaL After doing so they had returned to barracks, and he had gone for a walk by himself. On his return he was walking along a lane at a distance of about a mile from the town, when he heard a scream. He at once started off at the top of his speed, and at a turn of the lane he came upon a 102 A RESCUE. group of two tramps and two frightened ladies. One of these was in the act of handing over her purse to a tramp, while the second man was holding the other by the wrist, and was en- deavouring to tear off her watch and chain, which she was struggling to retain. Just as Edgar turned the corner he struck her on the face, and she fell backward on to the bank. Another moment and Edgar was up to them. The tramp turned with a savage oath. Edgar, who was carrying his riding-whip, struck him with it with all his strength across the eyes, and the man staggered back with a shriek of pain. The other stood on the defensive, but he was no match for Edgar, who was in hard exercise, and in regular practice with the gloves, and Avhose blood was thoroughly up. The fight lasted but a minute, at the end of which time the tramp was lying in the road roaring for mercy, and shouting to his comrade to come to his assistance. The latter, however, was stamping with pain, and was still unable to use his eyes. Edgar turned to the ladies. "If you will kindly walk on to the town," he said, " and send the first man you meet here to me, I will take care of these two fellows until he arrives, and then we will hand them over to the police. Do not be alarmed," he went on, seeing that they hesitated, "I think they have had enough of it." The ladies hurried off, and before going many hundred yards came upon three infantry men, who, when they heard what had happened, set off at a run to Edgar's assistance. They arrived just in time. The man on the ground had recovered his feet, and he and his companion had attacked Edgar with fury, and it needed all the latter's skill and activity to defend himself. As soon as the soldiers arrived upon the scene the combat ceased. As a measure of pre- caution the tramps were first knocked down; they were then dragged on to their feet and conducted by their captors into Aldershot, where they were lodged at the police station. They EDGAR STRUCK HIM WITH ALL HIS STRENGTH. MAKING A FRIEND. 103 were followed by the two ladies, who after sending on the soldiers had waited until their return with the tramps. They waited outside the police station until a constable came out and asked them to sign the charge sheet, which they did. Edgar now looked at them fairly for the first time, and recognized one of them as being the wife of the major of his corps. " You belong to my husband's regiment," she said as they came out from the police station. " What is your name'?" "Smith, madam. I am a trumpeter in D troop." " Oh, yes ! I remember your face now. I have often seen you in the cricket field. Miss Pearson and myself are greatly in- debted to you. I should not mind so much being robbed of my purse, but I prize my watch very highly as it was a present from my father. Major Horsley will see you and thank you when he hears what you have done." "I do not want any thanks," Edgar said] "it is a pleasure to punish such ruffians." Half an hour later Major Horsley came across to Edgar's quarters, and the sergeant called the lad down. "I am greatly indebted to you. Smith," he said, as Edgar saluted, "greatly indebted to you. You have behaved most gallantly, and have saved my wife from the loss of her watch and chain that she greatly valued, and perhaps from serious ill- treatment from those ruffians; as it was, one of them struck her a very severe blow on the face. I know enough of you, lad, to feel that I cannot offer you money for the service that you have rendered me; but be assured that I shall not forget it, and that when it is in my power to do you a good turn I will do so." "Thank you, sir," Edgar said. "I am very glad to have been of service." The major nodded kindly. Edgar saluted and turned away, well pleased at having made a friend who would have it in his power to be so useful to him, and still more pleased that the major had not offered him money as a reward for what he had done. An hour later he was sent for to the orderly-room, 104 CORPORAL NORTH. where the colonel in the presence of several of the officers thanked him for his gallant conduct. "You are a credit to the regiment, Smith; and you may be sure that I shall keep my eye on you," he concluded. The next day the tramps were brought up before the local magistrates and committed for trial for highway robbery with violence, and a month later they were brought up at the assizes at AVinchester and sentenced to five years' penal servitude. Edgar gained a great deal of credit in the regiment from the affair, and came to be known by the nickname of "The Ban- tam." There were, of course, some men who were jealous of the young trumpeter's popularity, and two or three of the non-commissioned officers especially felt aggrieved at the notice taken of him. One of these was the corporal in charge of the barrack-room occupied by Edgar, for he had, since he had been regularly appointed to a troop, left the quarters he first occupied with the band for those allotted to troop D. Corporals, however, have but little power in a barrack-room. They are in a sort of transitional state between a private and a sergeant, and are liable for even a comparatively small fault to be sent down again into the ranks. This being the case, they seldom venture to make themselves obnoxious to the men who were but lately their comrades, and may be their comrades again before a week is out. Corporal North, however, lost no opportunity of making himself disagreeable in a small way to Edgar. More than that he could not venture upon, for the men would at once have taken the lad's part. The regiment had been for some little time first on the list for foreign service, and there was no surprise when the news ran round the barrack-rooms that the order had come to pre- pare for embarkation. It was supposed that as a matter of course India would be their destination; but it was soon known that the regiment was for the present to be stationed in Egypt. Most of the men would rather have gone direct to India, where soldiers are better off and better cared for than elsewhere. A PROSPECT OF ACTIVE SERVICE. 105 Edgar, however, was pleased at the thought of seeing some- thing of Egj-pt, and it seemed to him, too, that there was a chance of active service there. " It seems to me," ho said, talking it over with several of his chums, " that sooner or later we must have some fighting in Egypt. I cannot understand how it is that some of the regi- ments there have not long ago been sent down to Suakim. We have smashed up the Egyptian army, and it seems to me that as we are really masters of the place Ave are bound to protect the natives from these savage tribes who are attacking them down on the Red Sea and up in the Soudan. The Egyptians always managed them well enough until we disbanded their army. If Hicks Pasha had had, as he asked for, an English regiment or two with him, he would never have been smashed up by the Mahdi's people; and it seems to me awful that the garrisons of Sinkat and Tokar should be deserted when we have a lot of troops lying idle at Cairo, while Baker is trying in vain to get up a native force to march to their relief. I wish, instead of going to Egypt, we were going straight down to Suakim to help him. There is one thing, if Baker fails and Sinkat and Tokar fall into the hands of the natives, there will be such indignation that government will have to do something. So I think there is a very good chance of our seeing some active service there, which will 1)e a thousand times better than sweltering in hot barracks in Cairo," "Eight you are, Smith," one of the others said. "I don't go in for reading the papers, and I don't know anything about the chaps in Egypt; but if there is going to be a row, I say let us have our share in it. We are pretty well up in the pur- suing drill; it would be a change to do it with somebody to pursue. Anyhow, wherever it is it will be a good job to get out of Aldershot, witu its parades and its drills and its Long Vallej^, and the whole blooming lot of it." Three clays later the order came, and the regiment proceeded by rail to Southampton; they embarked as soon as they arrived 106 BAD NEWS. there, and the transport started on the following morning. The weather was fine, and the voyage a pleasant one. They had but little to do, for they had left their horses behind them, as they were to take over the horses of the regiment they were going to relieve. The steamer was a fast one, and in twelve days after sailing they reached Alexandria. They were met when they arrived there by terrible neAvs. General Baker's force had marched to the relief of Tokar, but on the way had been attacked by the natives and utterly defeated, half the force being killed; and the whole would have been annihilated had they not reached the sea- shore, where the guns of the vessels which had brought them down from Suakim checked the pursuit of the enemy. Sinkat had fallen. The news had arrived only on the previous day, and the greatest excitement prevailed. The regiment at once proceeded to Cairo by train and took over the barracks and horses from the small detachment that had been left in charge of them, the main body of the regiment having crossed them on their journey from Alexandria, as they were to proceed to India in the same steamer that had brought out the Hussars. They were scarcely settled in their quarters before they heard that, now that it was too late, an expedition was to be sent down to Suakim. Two English regiments would have saved Baker's force from de- struction, and would have rescued the garrisons of Sinkat and Tokar; now a large force would have to be employed. Some time would, of course, be needed for the organization of the expedition, and in the meantime the Hussars had plenty of opportunity for investigating Cairo. To Edgar the town was delightful, with its bazaar and its varied population, and he and some of his comrades were never tired of wandering about examining the shops with their curious contents, their bright-coloured scarves, their wonderful pipes, their gaudy brasswork, and their oriental stuffs and carpets. But the population were even more amusing, with the mixture of Egyptians, Arabs, and Negroes clad in every variety of garb : A CHALLENGE. 107 from the Egyptian functionary in his neat blue uniform and fez, and the portly merchant in his oriental rohes, to the Arabs nuillled uj) in cotton cloths with turban and bcrnous, the lightly- chul Fellah, and the women shrouded in dark blue cottons with their faces almost entirely hidden by the yashmack. It needed sonre dexterity to avoid the strings of loaded camels that made their way through the narrow streets, the porters carrying heavy weights hanging from the centre of a thick bamboo pole resting on the shoulders of two or four men, and the diminutive donkeys with their high saddles, on the top of which were l)erched men who looked far more capable of carrying the don- keys than the donkeys of supporting their weight. The men soon discovered that spirits were cheap in Cairo, and the result was a considerable addition to the number brought up at the oi-derly-room for drunkenness. Among these, to Edgar's satisfaction, was Corporal North, who was at once sent back to the ranks and sentenced to a week in the cells. On the day he came out Edgar went up to him. " Now look here. North. You have made it pretty hot for me while you were corporal. If I had given you any cause for it I should bear no malice, but it has been simply persecution. As long as you were corporal I had to grin and bear it, but now that you are in the ranks we can settle matters; so I challenge you to meet me in the riding-school after we are dismissed from parade to-day." "That will suit me exactly," North said. " You want a lick- ing badly, young fellow, and now you will get it." " Well, if I Avere you I would say nothing about it until it is over," Edgar replied; "for, you see, it is quite possible that it may be the other way." As several of the men had heard the conversation there was a considerable gathering in the riding-school after they were dismissed from parade. The sympathies of the men were strongly with Edgar; but most of them thought that he was hardly a match for North, who had fought several times before 108 A FIGHT. he had got his stripes, and was a well-built young fellow of two-and-twenty. The fight lasted upwards of an hour. North had some know- ledge of boxing, but in this respect Edgar was his superior. He was far stronger and longer in the reach, while Edgar was the more active. _ In the early part of the fight the advantage lay all with the soldier, and Edgar was terrilily knocked about, so much so that the general opinion was that he had better give in and say that he had had enough; but Edgar laughed at the suggestion, " We have only begun yet," he said to the man who was acting as his second; "last tells in the long run. I have seen that before now, and I have double the last he has." This was the fact. Edgar had been constantly at hard work since he joined the regiment, while North had had a compara- tively easy time of it since he became a corporal. He had, too, spent no small portion of his pay in drink, and although he was seldom absolutely drunk, had had more than one narrow escape of his condition being observed on his return to barracks in the evening. As the fight went on, then, want of condition told upon him. Edgar, who had at one time seemed weak, gradually recovered his strength, while North became exhausted by the exertions he had made in the early part of the fight. Edgar now took the off"ensive, and at the end of an hour and a cjuarter's fighting North was no longer able to come up to time, and a loud shout from the lookers-on proclaimed that Edgar was the victor. He went across to North and held out his hand. "Let us shake hands. North," he said; "it has been a good tough fight. I owe you no malice now, and if you get your strijDes again, as I daresay you will, I hope it will be a lesson to you not to drop unfairly upon anyone you may take a dislike to." North took the hand held out to him. "You have licked me fairly, Smith," he said. "I did not "HE IS BEYOND YOUR SKILL." 109 tliink you had it in you; but I don't tliink you would have thrasliod ino if I had been in as good a condition as you are." "Very likely not," Edgar laughed. "Well, next time we fight I hope it will be against the Arabs, and not against each other." This fight greatly added to Edgar's reputation in the regi- ment. North was not a popular character and had always been considered a bully, and the pluck with which Edgar had continued the fight was thoroughly appreciated. Neither of the combatants were able to take their place in the ranks for some days after the fight, being obliged to obtain an order from the surgeon dispensing them from appearing on parade, thougli they still did stable duty and inner guards. Through the surgeon the matter came to the ears of the officers, who, by quiet inquiry from the sergeants, learnt the particulars of the fight. " Your friend Trumpeter Smith is reported as unfit for duty, my dear," Major Horsley said to his wife. " Is he ! I am sorry for that," the lady said, " Is there anything we can do for him in the way of sending him some soup, or anything of that sort^ He is not seriously ill, I hope'?" " I am afraid he is beyond your skill, Emma," Major Horsley said; and then, seeing that his wife looked seriously grieved, went on, "don't be alarmed, he has only been fighting again." "Oh! is that alii I was afraid it was fever, or something of that sort. Who has he been fighting with? He doesn't look quarrelsome at all." " He has been fighting with a man named North, who was a corporal in his troop, and who, as I hear, has been persecuting him a good deal. The fellow got drunk the other day and was reduced to the ranks, and young Smith lost no time in challenging him to fight. I hear most of the men thought he was a fool for doing so, for North is five years older than he is, and a stiflf-built young fellow too. I hear that it was a very 110 "FAVOURITES ARE NOT OFTEN POPULAR." hard fight, and lasted nearly an hour and a half. After the first half-hour it seemed to every one that Smith would have to give in, for the other man had all the best of it, knocking him down every round; but he stuck to it, and at last North was so beaten he could not come up to time. The sergeant says both of them are terribly knocked about, Smith worst. He can hardly see out of his eyes, and it will be fully a week before either of them can take their places in the ranks. I hear it was the longest fight that there has been in the regi- ment for years, and the sergeant-major tells me the men are quite enthusiastic over the pluck with which the young one fought. You see, he is not seventeen yet, and for a lad of that age to stand up against a man — and one too who, as I hear, is accustomed to use his fists — is a feather in his cap. It will do him good in the regiment. I have no doubt some of the men are rather jealous of the position he gained from his play at cricket, and from that affair of yours." " It was very mean of them, then," Mrs. Horsley said warmly. " Perhaps so, my dear; but favourites are not often popular. Anyhow, this will do him good, and will give him a better standing in the regiment than even his cricket could do; and, at anyrate, those who don't like him are likely after this to keep their opinion to themselves." " I wish we could do something for him, Eobert. You see, we have never done anything yet." " I shall have a chance of giving him a helping hand some day," the major replied, "and you may be sure that when the opportunity comes I shall do what I can. I have not forgotten what I owe him, I can tell you." The opportunity came sooner than the major had expected. In a short time it became known that four squadrons of the 10th Hussars and one squadron of the 1st were to accompany the expedition, and the greatest excitement prevailed in the corps as to which troops should be chosen. Two days later A GOOD TURN. Ill Edgar was dcliglitcd to hear that tho A and D troops had been named for the service. "Wh}' have they chosen tlic D troop, Ivohert?" Mrs. IJorslcy asked hor husband. "Partly, my dear, because Atkinson is the senior captain." "Oh, yes! I forgot that. And what is the other reason?" " Well, Emma, that reason is known only to myself, but I do not mind your knowing it; but you must not whi.spcr it to anyone." "^Yhat is it?" his wife asked curiously. " Because, my dear, Trumpeter Smith belongs to that troop, and I thought I would give him the chance of distinguishing himself. Some day, when it comes to a cjuestion of promotion, it will count in his favour that he has seen active service." " Oh, I am glad, Robert! It was very good of you to think of it. I Avish that he could know that you thought of him." " That he certainly cannot know," the major said decidedly, "It would be a nice thing for it to be known by anyone that the arrangements as to which troop should go on service had been influenced by my desire to do a good turn to a trumpeter. The other reason is a good and sufficient one. Atkinson, as senior captain, has almost a right to the first chance that ofl'ers. He is pretty sure to get brevet rank if there is any hard fight- ing." At this moment there was a knock at the door and an orderly entered, and saluting handed a note to Major Horsley. He glanced through it, and an expression of pleasure crossed his face. " My compliments to the colonel. I will come across and see him at once." "What is it, Robert?" his wife asked as the door closed be- hind the soldier. " Well, my dear, it is news that I own gives me great pleasure, but which I am afraid you won't like." "Not that you are to go with the detachment, Robert?" 112 ORDERED ON SERVICE. "Yes, Emma, that is it;" and he handed her the note. "My dear Horsley, I have just received orders from the general that a field-officer is to go in command of the squadron. As senior major, you have, of course, the right to the chance, I congratulate you." Mrs. Horsley turned a little pale as she read it, and her lip quivered as she said, " Well, Robert, no doubt you are glad of the opportunity, and as a soldier's wife I will not say anything to damp your pleasure. It is natural that you should wish to go. If I were a man I should wish so too. Anyhow, it will only last a very short time. You said you thought that they would be back again in a month, and surely there can be no very great danger in a fight with these savages." " The smallest amount in the world, Emma. It is not like Baker's force, which was composed of these cowardly Egyptians; and it is ridiculous to suppose that these wild tribesmen, brave as they may be, can stand against British troops armed with breech-loaders. I am afraid that all our share of the business will be to do a little scouting before the fight begins, and a little pursuing practice afterwards, so there will be really no occasion whatever for you to be at all uneasy, child; and I must own that I am extremely glad of the opportunity of taking part in this little expedition against these fanatics. Well, I must go across and see the colonel." Mrs. Horsley indulged in a quiet cry while he was away, for although she did not apprehend any real danger, the thought that her husband was going to run some risk of his life for the first time since she married him was a trial. However, she looked bright and cheerful when he returned, and at once set to work to pack up the kit required for the expedition. The next morning the detachment of the 1st Hussars, eighty strong, marched down to the station with one hun- dred men of the 10th Hussars. They took train for Suez. Here they found another two hundred and twenty-eight men of the 10th who had come on bv an earlier train, and the work DOWN THE RED SEA. 113 of omlmrlcing tlic horses on board the steamer that Mas to take tliem down to Suakim at once began. It was continued until nightfall and recommenced again at daybreak, for the oiteration of getting horses on board a ship and slinging tliem down into the hold is necessarily a slow one; but by mid-day all was concluded, the baggage on board, and the troops in readiness for a start. It was just sunset when the vessel steamed away from the wharf, the troops on board joining in a hearty cheer as she started. The ship was far more crowded than would have been the case had she been starting for a long voyage; but the run down to Suakim was so short that she was packed as full as she could hold, having in addition to the troops a num- l)er of mules for the transport. Every one was in high spirits. The change was a most welcome one after the monotony of barrack life in Egypt, and moreover all were burning to avenge the destruction of Baker's force and the massacre of the brave little garrison of Sinkat. The voyage was a pleasant one. After passing out of the Gulf of Suez, with the lofty and rugged mountain of Sinai with its red rocks and patches of verdure rising almost from the water's edge, they entirely lost sight of land on the left. On the right, however, ran a range of steep hills, which became bolder and loftier as they made their way south. When night again fell the engines were slowed down, for it was not deemed advisable to arrive off Suakim before daylight, as the coast of the neighbourhood abounded with reefs, and the entrance to the harbour was intricate and difficult. As soon as day broke the engines were again put at full speed, and in an hour the masts of the shipping lying in the port could be made out. As they neared the port a sma'l launch was seen coming out. An officer soon came on board. " You are to go down the coast to Trinkitat," he said to the captain. "The transports have gone down there ^ that is to be the base of operations." (650) H 114 "TOKAR HAS FALLEN." The officers clustered round the new-comer to learn the news. "You have been more lucky than the 19th," he said. "The Neva ran ashore on a shoal eighteen or nineteen miles away and has become a total wreck. Several steamers went out at once to help her, and got out the men and horses. A good deal of the baggage was lost, and fifty transport mules, which there was no time to take out before she went to pieces. It was a very close thing, and it was very lucky that aid came two or three hours after she struck. There has been trouble with the black regiments. The scoundrels mutinied as soon as they got on shore, and announced their intention of joining the rebels; so the marines have been kept here for the defence of the place, instead of going with the expedition. I am sorry to say that Tokar has fallen." A groan broke from his hearers. "It is a bad business," he went on; "but happily there has been no repetition of the Sinkat massacre. We heard the news yesterday morning. It was brought by five soldiers who made their way down the coast. They reported that the civil gover- nor of the town had entered into negotiations with the enemy, and had agreed to surrender on the promise that the lives of the garrison should be spared. In the afternoon two of our spies came back and confirmed the intelligence. It seems that they could have held out some time longer, and that the governor has behaved like a traitor. They were annoyed by a distant fire from six Krupp guns taken at the defeat of Baker's force, and worked by some black artillerymen captured at the same time. The fire did no material harm, but it seems to have frightened what little courage was left among the officials, and the gover- nor and a hundred and fifty of the townsmen went out and arranged the surrender, although they knew perfectly well that in a very few days help would arrive. There is one thing, the surrender will enable General Graham to choose his own time, and to wait until all the troops are up, instead of pushing TRINKTTAT. 115 forward, as he niiglit otliorwiso liavc done, directly he thought he had men enough, to save Tokar." In another five minutes the officer had taken liis pLace in tlie launch and was steaming back into Suakim, and the transport was making her way south. By noon she was anchored oft' the landing-place, a low beach with a fiat country extending behind it. The shore was alive with troops, and numbers of boats Avere plying backwards and forwards. The work of disembark- ing the horses began immediately, and the greater part of them were on shore before night. There they found the Black Watch, Gordon Highlanders, Irish Fusiliers, 19th Hussars, and the Mounted Infantrj', a corps of one hundred and twenty-six strong. Edgar greatly enjoyed the bustle and excitement, and the troops were all in the highest spirits. The first comers were eagerly cpiestioned. They said that during the day the 19th and Mounted Infantry had made a reconnaissance across a lagoon which lay between the beach and the country behind. The enemy had been seen there in force, but they retired at once upon seeing the cavalry advance. It was expected that by the following morning some of the infantry would cross the lagoon and occupy a battery which General Baker had thrown up there to cover his landing, for Trinkitat had been the spot from which he too had advanced to relieve Tokar, and the scene of the conflict in which his force had been destroyed would probably be crossed by the British in their advance. No tents had been taken or were needed, for even in February the heat upon the shores of the Eed Sea is very great; and as the evening went on the buzz of talk and laughter died out, and the troops lay down and slept under the starry sky 116 RECONNOITRING. CHAPTER VIL EI^TEB. THE next morning the Gordon Highlanders and Irish Fusi- liers, accompanied by a squadron of Hussars and the Mounted Infantry, with a couple of small guns, crossed the lagoon and occupied the intrenchment. The cavalry went a little distance out; but the enemy were seen in considerable numbers, and as there might be a large force concealed among the low sand-hills, no attempt was made to attack them, as it was undesirable to bring on serious fighting until the whole force were in readiness to advance. In the evening the cavalry recrossed the lagoon, as there was no water obtainable on the other side, and the animals had to depend upon the supply landed from the steamers. All day the work of disembarka- tion had been going on, and in spite of the heat of the blazing sun, the men had worked enthusiastically in getting the horses and stores on shore. The next day the Naval Brigade, one hundred and fifteen strong, all picked men from the crews of the gun-boats, with ten officers, landed. The troops on the beach were most anxious to advance, but as those beyond the lagoon had to depend entirely upon food and water carried across to them, it was unadvisable to push a larger body of men forward, especially as the natives had clearly no intentions of attacking them, contenting themselves by keeping up a distant fire. " I expect the beggars are gathering their forces just as we are gathering ours," one of the Hussars said, as they sat round a fire they had lighted with some drift-wood picked up on shore. The heat was in no way required, but the light was cheei'ful, and the smoke kept away troublesome insects. " They reckon," another said, " upon falling upon us on the WAI'I'INO FOR THE CnTII." 117 march as they did upon Daki'v's iiicii, Ijut thoy will liiid tlicy have got into the wrong box." "Cieneial IJaker came down himself in the steamboat which arrived this afternoon. I heard one of the officers say so," Edgar put in. " It will be a satisfaction to him to see these felloAvs well licked on nearly the same ground where they cut uj) his force." "Ah! I expect Baker would give his right hand to lead the cavalry in the charge. What a splendid officer he is ! There is not a man in the army can handle cavalry as he can; and wouldn't the 10th fight with their old colonel at their head!" There was a general chorus of assent. "How splendidly he fought in Turkey!" another trooper said. " I am told the Turks he led would have done anything for him, and had just the same confidence in him our chaps used to have. If he had been in command of the whole army, instead of those rotten old pashas, the Russians would have found it a very difterent job. I wonder when we are going on. Now we have got all the stores ashore it will be precious slow work being stuck on this beach." " We are waiting for the 65th," a sergeant said. " I hear the Serapis was expected this morning. It is great luck for them getting a fight without any trouble at all. How pleased they must have been when they heard at Aden that they were to be stopped on their way up, to have a share in the affair ! " " Yes, I call that a first-rate piece of luck," another agreed, "to have a good fight and then go straight home, while we have got nothing to look forward to afterwards but garrison thity in Cairo. I would rather be going on to India fifty times." " Like enough we may see some service there," the sergeant said. "If this Mahdi fellow comes down, which they say he means to do, to invade Egypt, you may be sure we shall all have to go up to stop him." "I don't call it 'fighting' against these savages," one of the 118 "AS BKAVE AS THE ZULUS." troopers said. " What chance have they got against regular troops ? " " I don't know, Johnson. The Zulus were savages, and they made a pretty tough fight against us. I suppose you don't want anything much harder than that? These fellows have been every bit as brave as the Zulus. They cut Hicks Pasha's army into mincemeat, and they have licked two Egyptian armies down in this neighbourhood. If you think this is going to be no harder work than a field-day at Aldershot, I think you are likely to find you are mistaken." " You don't suppose, sergeant, that these naked beggars are going to stand for a moment against a charge of eight hundred cavalry?" " It did not seem as if naked savages could stand infantry armed with breech-loaders, but you see the Zulus did. It does not seem possible these Arabs can stand for a moment against our charge; but, you see, we do not understand these fellows. One knows what regular infantry can do against cavalry, and it may be we shall find that these Arabs are not to be ridden over as easily as we think. When you have got to reckon with men who don't care the snap of a finger whether they are killed or not, you never can count upon an easy victory however badly they may be armed, and however undisciplined they may be. " There is nine o'clock." he broke off, as the bells on board the gun-boats rang out twice. A moment later a bugle sounded "lights out," and the call was repeated by the buglers and trumpeters of the various corps, and a few minutes later the men stretched themselves out on the sand, and silence reigned in the camp. The next morning Admiral Hewett sent on shore eight seven-pounder guns from the fleet, to take the place of the same number of little camel-guns, which had been found to be of no real utility. At noon the smoke of a steamer was made out in the distance, and a few hours later the Serapis, whose engines had uone wrons;- arrived with the 65th, who were Port of S U A K I M '^ Battle of El TEB. 20th, FEB. 1S34. .--' # ^ ^ '■?! ' rre Vard , 1> / .4^^ s^'' « "i-j-i ..no ■y.v^ A jY D L }/ / !"■ „„,,ii,e ifiih f/cHs ^Cavalry / V o „/,.-''^ a"' ■ Kr I ■•... ' J. H i,r| "'" ^^^»„;. ^" "'^ Vii: :^ r ■l ■ -,frrt. V. ^ J intlu-rs. l|-'-' 'r :':"-'^'-' Scale of Varck. iqo, 9 CM) .i(x) ("no fc ,0,. TlUi STRIONCITII (.)F THE KOIMJK 111) landed at once, and ininiediately crossed the lagoon to the iutrenchment, and it \\us known that the advance would at once begin. In addition to the guns sent on shore from the fleet the artillery had ten brass mountain-guns and four Krupi:)s; the Naval Brigade had with them two nine-pounders, three Gatlings, and three Gardners. The troops were divided into two bri- gades, the first consisting of 610 men of the Rifles, 751 Gordon Highlanders, and 33-1: of the Irish regiment; the second brigade of 7G1 Royal Highlanders, 500 of the 65th, 361 Royal Marine Artillery and Infantry, and 100 Royal Engineers. There were 600 camels for the transport, 350 mules and 100 camels for the ambulance corps, while the camel battery was composed of 80 camels and 100 men. In the course of the afternoon Major Harvey and Lieutenant- colonel Burnaby rode out two miles beyond the intrenchment and planted a white flag with a letter attached to the flagstaff", calling upon the enemy to retire and allow us to pass on to Tokar without opposition. They were fired at by the Arabs, and as the flag disappeared a short time after the officers had returned, there was no doubt that the letter would arrive at its destination. Before nightfall the whole of the force, with the exception of one hundred and fifty men left to defend the stores on the beach, had crossed the lagoon. Three hundred men were to remain in the intrenchment, when the rest marched, to defend the transport animals and stores left there against any attacks. Bivouac fires were lighted, and round these the troops sat smoking and chatting until the bugle-call ordered all to lie doAvn in their ranks. They were bivouacked in the order in which they were to advance. The formation was to be a sort of square, of which the Gordon Highlanders Avere to form the front face, the Roj^al Highlanders the rear line, the Irish Fusiliers the right face with the Rifles inside them; the 65th were on the outside of the left face, the Marines being inside them. The whole square was about 120 THE ADVANCE. 250 yards long by 150 deei^. Between the Marines and Rifles in the centre were stationed the transport animals with the reserve ammunition and hospital appliances. The camel bat- tery with the seven-pounders was to remain in reserve in the centre of the square, while the sailors with the six marine-guns were placed at the left front of the square, next to the Gordon Highlanders. The bivouac fires were kept up all night, as it was considered probable that the enemy, who occasionally fired from a dis- tance, might attempt an attack upon the sleeping force. The night, however, passed quietly, but towards morning rain fell heavily, soaking the troops as they lay, and there was a gen- eral feeling of gladness when the reveille called them to their feet. Fresh fuel was thrown on to the fires, and the men tried as best they could to dry themselves. The kettles were boiled and breakfast eaten, and the cavalry recrossed the lagoon to the beach to give their horses water at the tanks there. They then rejoined the infantry. Their place was to be in the rear of the square, but two squadrons were to move in extended order as scouts a mile in front of it and on both flanks. Their orders were that if attacked they were not to charge the enemy, but to open right and left and to retire at once and rejoin the main body in the rear of the square, so as to allow a clear space for the sweep of the infantry fire. The infantry were to fire only in volleys on word of command, and were not to open fire until within three hundred yards of the enemy. Moving out from the camp the force was halted on open ground and a brief inspection made to see that all was in order, and soon after eight o'clock the advance began in earnest. As soon as they moved forward the enemy could be seen retiring, evidently bent upon pursuing the same tactics that they had done upon the occasion of the advance of Baker Pasha's force from the same halting-place a month before. The officers with their glasses could make them out swarming along a slight ridge of ground in the neighbourhood of the TlIK AKAB POSITION. 121 wt'lls; their flags extended along a front a mile in length, and guns could be made ont in position. As the column advanced the enemy cleared off from the rising ground, but whether they had retired behind the ridge, and Avere there waiting in readiness to pour out to the attack, or whether they were moving round to fall upon the flank of the column, was uncertain. As the column neared the position it could be seen that a breast- work had been thrown up, and that the position of the guns had been well chosen, and the enemy could now be made out crowded among the bushes on the ridge. It was now ten o'clock, the column was advancing briskly to the martial music of the pipes of the Royal Highlanders, the cavalry scouts had moved away from the front, and the square was within five hundred yards of the ridge. They were not, however, advancing directly against it, but were moving in a line almost parallel to its face, as General Graham had deter- mined to pass it and then attack in flank, as it Avas evident that there Avould be serious loss in a front attack upon a position so strongly held and fortified. It was a trying moment, for all expected that the silence, so far preserved by the enemy, would be broken by the roar of cannon and the discharge of musketry, and that it Avould be followed by the tremendous rush that had proved fatal to Baker's force. But the square kept its way for some distance across the face before the enemy opened fire. They had doubtless expected that a direct attack would be made upon their position, and the passage of the troops without the slightest attention to themselves surprised and disconcerted them. But at last they perceived that they must take the offensive, and suddenly a hot fire of musketry broke out from bush and earthwork, while the Krupp guns, manned by the soldiers who had formed part of the Tokar garrison, opened fire. The distance was but four hundred yards, and several of the men fell out from their places in the ranks wounded, but the greater part of the shot and bullets flew overhead. 122 THE ATTACK. No reply to the fire was made by the square, but its direc- tion was changed a little more to the right so as to take it somewhat farther from the face of the enemy's position. The artillery now opened fire upon the guns of the enemy, but the square kept on its course steadily, while a storm of bullets and fragments of shrapnel-shell flew around them. The enemy's gunners proved that their training had been good. They worked their guns quickly and their aim was accurate. Gen- eral Baker, who was acting as head of the intelligence depart- ment, was struck in the face by a ball from one of the shrap- nel-shells. This imbedded itself so deeply in his jaw that it could not be got out by the surgeons until after the conclusion of the fight. But the gallant officer, having had his face bandaged up, remounted his horse, and continued his duties throughout the day. Upon getting to a position at the end of the ridge held by the enemy the men were ordered to lie down, while the artil- lery continued their fire against the enemy's batteries. At a quarter to twelve the Arab guns ceased to fire, and the men were ordered to their feet again, and with loud cheers continued the advance. The square moved on until well in rear of the enemy's position, and then marched straight towards it. Owing to this change in the direction of its march the left flank of the square now became its front, and it was the 65th with the Naval Brigade on one flank and the Eoyal Highlanders on the other, who were nearest to the enemy. Fast and thick the flashes of musketry broke out from the bushes; but as the square approached the fire ceased, and then groups of black forms sprang to their feet, and with loud yells rushed towards the square, waving their spears and swords. It seemed incredible that these little groups of ten or twelve men each should intend to assail the solid lines of the British, but as fresh parties every moment sprang up and charged down, the order was given to fire. A flash of flame ran along the face of the great square, and then a continuous A GOUllACiEOUS FUE. 123 loai- told tli;it the brcccli-loadiiig rillcs were at work, wliile the TiKicliine-guns of the sailors added their rattle to the din of the musketry. As if utterly heedless of death the Arabs rushed forward through the leaden storm, but were mowed down like grass bt'fore it. Not one of these intrepid warriors reached the face (if the square, not one turned to fly; but of those who left their shelter to attack the square, every man fell with his face to the foe. AVithout halting for a moment the square kept on its way until the front line reached the bushes. Then with a wild yell a swarm of Arabs sprang to their feet, with so sudden and desperate a rush that they reached the sailors, and for a minute a hand-to-hand struggle took place — bayonet against speai\ But the wild courage of the natives was of no avail against the steady discipline of the sailors. The assailants were swept away, and the square moved on. But the ground was now so broken with bush and rock that the even line could no longer be preserved. From every bush, and from ritie-pits dug among them, and from behind rough intrenchments, parties of Arabs leapt to their feet and hurled themselves in vain upon the British bayonets. As the front of the square reached the ridge that had formed the Arab position the fight was most desperate, the enemy throwing themselves furiously on its flanks; and the Royal Highlanders and the sailors had to fight hard to Avin their way through them. But at last the ridge was won. Two of the enemy's Krupp guns were captured, and as soon as the square had been formed up again in order these weie turned against the position the Arabs had now taken up in rear of their first line of defence. In the centre of the position they now occupied was a brick building, where an engine for pump- ing up water for irrigation purposes had formerly stood. The Arabs had loopholed the walls and surrounded the building with rifle-pits. Here they made a desperate resistance, until at last the doors were Inu'st in and the buildinir stormed. m 124 A CAVALRY CHARGE. Several mud huts were defended, with equal obstinacy, and many of our men were wounded by Arabs who lay feigning death in the rifle-pits, and then when the first line of troops had passed leaped out and rushed in among them, cutting and slashing until bayoneted or shot down. While the 65th were winning this position the Gordon Highlanders carried the village, while the Eoyal Highlanders captured the redoubt at the extreme right of the position the enemy had first held. The enemy now had been driven from their last line and fled in all directions, at a speed that ren- dered pursuit by the infantry impossible. During the early portion of the battle the cavalry had been kept in the rear, out of the range of the enemy's fire, and the men had nothing to do but to sit quiet on their horses and watch the attack of the infantry square upon the enemy's position, fretting and fuming not a little that they were unable to take their part in what was evidently a desperate struggle. But at last bodies of the Arabs were seen streaming out from the position, and General Stewart, who was in command of the cavalry division, gave the order, and, wheeling far round to the right of the infantry, led them against a large body of Arabs in the plain beyond the ridge. The enemy did not await their attack, but fled, hotly pursued by the first and second lines for some distance. The order to cease pursuing was sounded, when it was seen that the third line, composed of a hundred men, were attacked by a body of Arabs who had advanced from the left, and the main body M'^heeled round and advanced to assist them. But the ground between was already occupied by the Arabs; these as the cavalry advanced threw themselves down among the tufted hillocks and mounds which covered the whole plain. The horses in their course leaped the hillocks, swerving at the sight of the dark figures lying among them. The Arabs sprang instantly to their feet in the intervals between the horsemen and hurled their spears at them, or as A SERIOUS ENCOUNTER. 125 they lay tlirust thcni into the horses, and as tliose fell sprang upon the riders and cut them down. At the same moment a small body of mounted Arabs dashed into the fray. Most of them were cut down, but some made their way through the line, and turning the instant they did so fell upon the rear of the charging squadron. Colonel Barrow who commanded it fell, but it still pressed forward, the opposition becoming every moment more severe. General Stewart led the second line to the assistance of the first, but these too were desperately opposed, and had to fight hard before they could reach them. One of the general's orderlies was killed and two others wounded. Major Slade of the 10th Hussars, Lieutenant Free- man of the 19th, and Lieutenant Probyn fell, and twenty men were killed and as many wounded before the enemy retired. Colonel Webster's squadron, which made several brilliant charges at the enemy, now joined the rest of the cavalry. But the Arabs were momentarily reinforced, and after what had been seen of the desperation with which they fought it was deemed imprudent to pursue them further. With the exception of the losses sustained by the cavalry the total loss at the battle of El-Teb was small, amounting to only thirty killed and one hundred and forty-two wounded. One infantry officer was killed, one mortally wounded, and one severely so, while many received slight wounds. The loss of the Arabs exceeded two thousand. Edgar's squadron was among the first line when the charge was made to the assistance of Colonel Webster's squadron. He was in the rear rank and could not well see what was passing in front, and he was astounded upon seeing men spring up apparently from the earth and furiously attack the horsemen with spear and sword. He himself had a very narrow escape. His horse swerved as it leapt a low bush, and almost simul- taneously a native sprang to his feet and lounged at him with his spear. Instinctively he threw himself forward on the neck of his horse, and as he did so felt the spear graze his back 126 IN DEADLY PERIL. below the shoulders. The next moment his horse had taken him beyond the Arab's reach; but at that instant he heard a cry and saw Corporal North's horse fall with him, pierced by a spear thrust given by a native lying on the ground. Before the corporal could rise the Arab was upon him with his sword, and struck him down with a sweeping cut upon the shoulder. Edgar had wheeled his horse round instantly, and before the blow was repeated was within striking distance of the man and his sword fell upon the uplifted wrist. Drop- ping his sword the Arab sprang upon the horse and strove to tear Edgar from the saddle, while at the same instant the Arab who had first thrust at him ran up. Fortunately he came up at the side on which his comrade was clinging to Edgar, and was therefore unable to use his spear against him; but after a moment's hesitation he plunged it into the horse, which reared high in the air and then fell. Edgar had at the moment rid himself of the man who was grasping him, by shortening his sword and plunging it into his body, and as the horse reared he drew his feet from the stirrups and dropped off over his tail, coming down upon his feet just as the animal rolled over dead. The other Arab rushed at him with his spear. Edgar cut at it with his sword and severed the iron head from the staff, and then springing forward ran the Arab through before he could take to his sword. But several others were running up, and Edgar felt that his case was desperate. By this time the corporal, though badly wounded, had freed himself from his fallen horse, and drawing his carbine from the bucket shot the Arab nearest to him. The others, however, came on without a pause. Edgar and his wounded companion made a desperate defence ; but both received several sword-cuts, and Edgar felt the end was at hand, when with a roar like thunder the second line burst down upon them, and the Arabs were instantly cut down. "Take those two men up behind you!" an officer shouted. Two of the troopers reined in their horses and assisted Edgar and his companion to climb up behind them, and then riding CORPORAL north's REPORT. 127 at full speed soon regained the line. In another minute the trumpet sounded for a halt. Edgar and his companion now slii)ped from the horses and joined their own squadron. The cori)oral was scarce able to stand, and Edgar was not in a better plight. Major Horsley rode up to them. "Not badly wounded, I hope?" he asked. "It is a miracle your getting in when once dismounted." " I think I am pretty nearly done for, sir," the corporal said. "But I wish to report that Trumpeter Smith has saved my life by coming back to my assistance when my horse was stabbed and fell with me. He killed the two men who attacked me, and so gave me time to free myself and to aid him in making a fight of it until the second line came up." As Cor- poral North concluded he fell insensible from loss of blood. At that moment the surgeon came up. "Are we going to charge again, major? because if so, these men, with the others badly wounded, had better be sent across at once to the in- fantry. There are too many of these Arab scoundrels about for them to be left behind here. But if we are not going to charge I will give their wounds a first dressing at once." " I don't know," the major said. " I will ride to the general and ask him, and speak to him about the wounded. Sergeant Meekings, if the order comes to charge before I return, tell off a trooper to take up each man too badly wounded to ride> and let them carry them straight across to the infantry." After giving this order he rode rapidly away, but returned in two or three minutes. "We are not going to charge again, doctor," he said; "they are mustering too strongly for us to attempt it. The general says he will halt where we are until the worst cases of the wounded are attended to. Here, two of you men, dismount and assist the surgeon." "Get their jackets off, lads," the doctor said. "Take this corporal first; he is the worst case." The other wounded men were now brought up, and their wounds were all bandaged. Those who could sit a horse then 128 EDGAR*S WOUNDS. mounted behind other troopers, while a number of soldiers were ordered to dismount and to lay the others upon blankets and carry them in. Edgar was one of these. He had received one cut on the top of his head, and his helmet had alone saved his skull from being cleft. He had another gash on the right cheek. His side was laid open with a spear - thrust, the weapon having fortunately glanced from his ribs, and he had another sword- cut on the hip. He was unable to walk from loss of blood, but he felt that none of his wounds were very serious; and the surgeon said to him cheerfully, "You will do, lad. Your wounds are ugly to look at, but they are not serious. You will be on horseback again in another ten days." Major Horsley had not spoken to him, but he had given him a little nod of satisfaction when the corporal gave his report. The cavalry moved across at a walk towards the wells of El-Teb, the wounded being carried between the lines, as there was no saying how many Arabs might be lurking among the bushes. On reaching the wells they were taken to the field hospital, which had already been organized. There their wounds were more carefully examined and re-dressed; and after a drink of lime-juice and water, with a little brandy in it, Edgar soon dropped off to sleep. In the morning Major Horsley and Captain Atkinson came round to see how the men of their regiment were getting on. The surgeon's report was favourable except in the case of Corporal North. "I think he will pull round, major; but I am sure he will never be fit for service again. That wound on the shoulder, which he tells me is the first he got, has cut clean through the collar-bone and penetrated almost to the upper rib. I doubt whether he will ever have the use of his arm again; but that I cannot say. Anyhow, it will be long before it is fit for hard work. Trumpeter Smith ? There is nothing serious the matter with him, but he has had a marvellous escape. If his helmet had not saved his head, the blow would have cleft UKCOMMENDED FOR THE CROSS. 129 right through liis skull; if the wound in his cheek had hecn a couple of inches higher, it would have opened the temporal artery; and if the spear had penetrated instead of gliding off his rihs, that alone would have been sufficient to have done his business. As it is, he is not much the worse except for loss of blood, and with luck will be fit to take his place again in the ranks in a fortnight." "I am glad to hear so good an account of you, Smith," the major said as he went up to his bedside. "1 have reported your conduct to General Stewart, and your name will be sent in among those recommended for the Victoria Cross. Mind, I don't say that you will get it, lad, — I don't think you will; for S(i many men distinguished themselves yesterday in that hand- to-hand fight that the names sent in will be very much larger than the number of crosses given. Still, your having been recommended will count in your favour when the time comes." So saying, with a kindly nod he moved on to the next bed. At nine o'clock the force moved out towards Tokar, half the Gordon Highlanders being left at El-Teb for the protection of the hospital and stores, and with orders to find and bury the Europeans that had fallen. During the day many of the Egyp- tian garrison of Tokar came into the camp from the surround- ing villages. In the afternoon a mounted orderly brought in the news that the force had met with no resistance whatever on their way. Several parties of the enemy had been seen, but these fled as soon as they saw the troops advancing. In Tokar seventy of the Egyptian garrison were found in a half- starved condition. While their comrades had consented to join the Arabs they had steadily refused to do so, and had been very badly treated in consequence by them and by the inhabi- tants of the town. The arrival of the troops was hailed with great joj\ The inhabitants had had a terrible time during the occupation of the place by the Arabs, and the whole population were preparing to accompany the troops on their march back 130 THE GUNS ALL RECAPTURED. to the coast. The cavalry had ridden out to Debbah, where the camp of the force besieging Tokar had been established. In the afternoon Edgar was so far recovered that he was able to sit up. His wounds were sore and painful, and the strapping of plaster in which they were enveloped rendered him very stiff and uncomfortable. But, as he said to another soldier, he had been just as stiff and sore after a football match, and felt confident that in a few days he should be as well as ever. The next evening the force returned from Tokar, and Edgar and the other troopers who were well enough to go outside the hospital tent to see them come in were amused at their appear- ance, for they had before starting armed themselves with spears taken from the fallen Arabs; for the fight on the previous day had shown them that their swords were of little avail against the tactics of the Arabs in throwing themselves flat upon the ground, and that spears were much better suited for warfare against savages. They were accompanied by the greater por- tion of the population of Tokar, who were to be conveyed in the ships up to Suakim. The cavalry had found that the Arabs had left the camp at Debbah before they arrived. The expedition there was, however, by no means useless, for they found an immense quantity of rifles and ammunition, together with a Gatling and mountain gun, all of which had been captured by the Arabs at the rout of Baker Pasha's army, or at the destruction of the force under Colonel Moncrieff some months before. The guns captured in the intrenchments made up the complete number of those that had fallen into the hands of the natives on those two occasions, and so left them without artillery. The work of burying the dead had been carried on by the force left in camp, and by the aid of those who now returned was completed in a short time. No less than a thousand Arabs were found to have fallen in and around their intrenchments, and numbers must have got away only to die subsequently from their wounds. It was learned RKTT'KN TO STTAKTM. 131 fi'om j^i'isonovs that Osman T)i,unia liad not himself liocii picsfMit at the battle, but had sent a thousand men to reinforce those en^i,^agcd in the siege of Tokar. The force now moved down to Trinkitat with three hun- dred men of the garrison of Tokar who had rejoined them, and four or five hundred men, women, and children from that town. The re-embarkation was speedily effected, and a few liours later the ships entered Suakim harbour. It was found that the natives of that town had received the news of the victory of El-Teb with absolute incredulity, but the arrival of the Tokar fugitives convinced them that the Arabs had really been defeated. One of the prisoners taken at Sinkat came in a day or two later, having made his escape from Osman Digma's camp. He reported that the news of the battle of El-Teb had arrived there before he left, and that it had been given out that seven thousand of the English had been killed, and that it was only nightfall that saved them all from destruction. The first step of Admiral Hewett and General Graham on their arrival at Suakim was to issue a proclamation calling upon all the tribesmen to leave Osman Digma and to come in and make their submission, promising protection and pardon to all who surrendered. This proclamation was backed by a letter by the Sheik Morghani, who was held in the highest estimation for his holiness. He told them that God had sent the English to destroy them because they had forsaken the old religion for a new one, and entreated them to come in and make their peace. A fortnight had now passed since the fight at El-Teb. Edgar, who had remained on board the hospital-ship, had made rapid progress towards convalescence, and was now reported by the surgeons as fit to return to duty, which he was most anxious to do, as it was daily expected that the force would move out against Osman Digma, who was at Tamai, a place sixteen miles to the south-west of Suakim. The troops had 132 "YOU ARE GETTING ON." been disembarked, and he was delighted when he was again able to join his squadron. Spies came and went daily, and they were unanimous in saying that Osman would fight an- other battle. The news that El-Teb was a disastrous defeat was' by this time known, but his explanation that the misfor- tunes were solely due to his orders having been disobeyed, perfectly satisfied his followers, and their belief that he was invincible was wholly unshaken. The most fanatical of the coast tribes still held to him, and on the 9th of March twenty-one of their sheiks sent in a defiant reply to the proclamation, saying that the ten thousand men they commanded would meet us in the field. It was there- fore evident that the struggle to come would be much more serious and determined than that of El-Teb. Edgar received qftite an ovation upon rejoining his troop. The manner in which he had defended his wounded comrade had awakened their lively admiration, the more so since the man for whom he had so imperilled his life had but lately been his personal antagonist. " Well, young un, you are getting on," a sergeant said to him. " I won't say you are getting all the luck, for luck has nothing to do with it this time, anyhow. You are doing Avell, Smith, and it won't be many months before you are in our mess, and it needs no prophet to see that you have every chance of going higher if you keep on as you began. Here you are only about seventeen years old, and you have made a big mark in the regiment already. You have got the major and the rest of the officers on your side from that affair at Aldershot, then the fact that you are the best cricketer in the regiment counts for a lot, and now you have got wounded and have been recom- mended for the Victoria Cross. "If you don't mount up after all that it will be your own fault. You have every advantage. The fact that you have been a gentleman is in your favour, for naturally men are picked out for promotion who are best fitted for the position of ol^cers; rxooi) Ai)\i(!i<:. 133 ;iii(I your hiiving \>ccu able to take a first-class certificate in the school in itself brings you into notice. Be careful with your- self, lad. T know you don't drink, so T need not warn you about that. Don't get cocky. I don't think you Avill, for 3-ou haven't done so at present, and the notice you have had from your cricket and that Aldershot affair would have turned a good many lads' heads. But it is a thing to be careful about. You know there are a good many old soldiers who are inclined to feel a little jealous when they see a young fellow pushing forward, but if they see he is c|uiet, and gives himself no airs and is pleasant with every one, they get over it in time; and in your case every one will acknowledge that you deserve all the luck that may fall to you. So be careful on that head, Smith. "You will find very little jealousy among us sergeants when you once get into our mess, for there are very few of us who have any idea whatever of ever getting a commission, or would take one if it were offered. A sensible man knows when he is well oft', and except for a man who has had the education you have had one is much more comfortable as a sergeant, and better off" too, than one would be as an officer. When one is with other men one wants to do as they do, and an officer who has got to live on his pay finds it hard work and painful work. Of course most men promoted from the ranks — I mean my class of men — get quarter-masterships, but there is no great pull in that. Quarter-masters are neither one thing nor the other. The officers may try to put him at his ease, but his ways are not their ways; and I have known many a quarter-master who, if he had his choice, would gladly come back to the sergeant's mess again." " Thank you for your advice, sergeant," Edgar said quietly. " I will follow it to the best of my power. I don't think there is anything to be cocky about; for the thing at Aldershot was pure luck, and so it was the other day. I happened to be next to North when his horse fell, and of course I turned round to help him without thinking who he was or anything about him. 134 RESPECT FOR THE FOE. It was just instinct, and it hasn't done him any good after all, for I hear he is not likely to live many days." CHAPTER VIIL AEE you sure you feel fit for active work again, Smith 1" Major Horsley said as he met Edgar in camp. " Yes, sir," the lad said saluting. " I am a little stiff, and it hurts me if I move suddenly, but I am sure I should not feel it if we were engaged again." "Well, do not do anything rash, lad; these fellows are not to be trifled with." That, indeed, was the general opinion in camp. The men were ready and eager for another fight with the enemy, but there was little of the light-hearted gaiety with which the contest had been anticipated before they had met the Arabs at El-Teb. The idea that savages, however brave, could cope with British troops with breech-loaders had then seemed absurd; but the extraordinary bravery with which the Arabs had fought, the recklessness with which they threw away their lives, and the determination with which they had charged through a fire in which it seemed impossible that any human being could live, had created a feeling of respect. There was nothing contemptible about these foes, and it was expected that not only would the force be very much larger than that met at El-Teb, but as it would be composed of Osman Digma's best men, and would be fighting under his eye, the battle would be much more hardly contested than before. The cavalry Avere particularly impressed with the formidable nature of these strange foemeu. While they would have hurled themselves fearlessly against far superior forces of the best cavalry of Europe, they felt that here their discipline and TlIK 'I'KdOI'KK's UlMNION. 135 mastery of their lior.ses went for little. They could charge tlirough any number of the enemy, but the danger lay not in the charge but after it. The Arab tactics of throwing them- selves down only to stab the horses as they rode over them, and then rising up cutting and thrusting in their midst, were strange and bewildering to them. "I am game to charge a dozen squadrons of cavalry one after the other," a trooper said as they sat round the five on the night of the 9th of March, " and if we had orders to go at a square of infantry I should be ready to go, although I might not like the job; but as for these slippery black beggars, the less we have to do with them the better I shall be pleased. You go at them, and you think you have got it all your own way, and then before you can say knife there they are yelling and shouting and sticking those ugly spears into you and your horses, and dancing round until you don't fairly know what you are up to. There ain't nothing natural or decent about it." There was a general murmur of assent. " We shall know more about their ways next time," an- other said. "But lancers would be the best for this sort of work. There is no getting at these beggars on the ground with our swords, for the horses will always leap over a body, and so you cannot reach them with your swords; but a lance would do the business well. I don't care much for lances for regular work, but for this sort of fighting there is no doubt they are the real thing. Well, there is one thing, if we get among the niggers this time we know what we have got to deal with, and up or down there will be no mercy shown." On the 10th the Royal Highlanders marched out six miles towards Tamai and formed an encampment there, defending it with bushes interlaced with wire, this kind of defence being known among the natives as a zareba. The next afternoon the rest of the infantry marched out and joined them. Next morn- ing the cavalry moved out, and in the afternoon the whole force started, the cavalry thrown out ahead. A few shots were 136 A ZAREBA. exchanged with parties of the enemy, but there was no serious fighting. The march was slow, for the ground was thickly covered with bushes, through which the troops with the ambulance and commissariat camels moved but slowly. The sailors had very hard work dragging their guns through the deep sand, and it took four hours before they reached a spot suitable for encampment, within two miles of the enemy's position. The spot selected for the halt was a space free from bushes, and large enough to afford room for the encampment and to leave a clear margin of some fifty yards wide between it and the bushes. As soon as the column halted the cavalry and part of the infantry took up their position as outposts to prevent a surprise on the part of the enemy, and the rest set to work to cut down bushes and drag them across the sand to form a fresh zareba. When this was completed the cavalry trotted back to the post held on the previous night, as they would be useless in case of a night attack, and their horses might sufi"er from a distant fire of the enemy. Inside the zareba the greatest vigilance was observed. Fully ten thousand determined enemies lay but a short distance awa}^, and might creep up through the bushes and make a sudden onslaught at any time. The moon was full, and its light would show any object advancing across the open space. Had it not been for this the general would not have been justified in encamping at so short a distance from the enemy-. The march had been a short one, but the heat had been great and the dust terrible, and the troops threw themselves down on the ground exhausted when the work of constructing the zareba was completed; but after a short rest they took up their posts in readiness to repel an attack During the early part of the night all remained under arms. But Commander Eolfe of the Royal Navy crept out at the rear of the camp, gained the bushes, and crawled among them until he came within sight of the enemy He saw them in great A NIOIIT ATTACK. 137 numbers siLling round tlioir lirus or stretched upon the ground, and returned to cam}) with the news that wliatever might be the case hiter on, certainly no attack was meditated at present. The greater jiart of the troops were thereupon allowed to lie down and get what sleep they could. The cavalry felt much anxiety respecting those they had left behind them ; but the moon was sufficiently bright to permit signals to be Hashed to them from the camp, and they learnt to their satisfaction that all was quiet. Soon after one o'clock in the morning the stillness round the zareba was suddenly broken. A roar of musketry burst from the bushes all round, and it was evident that the enemy were assembled there in great force. The troops were ordered to lie down} and fortunately here, as at El-Teb, the Arab fire was far too high, and the storm of bullets swept for the most part overhead. Many of the camels, mules, and horses were, however, hit, but only one man was killed and an officer and two men wounded. Grasping their rifles the troops lay ready to sijring to their feet and repel the attack should it be made; but the hours passed on slowly without the expected movement taking place, and there was a general feeling of relief when morning at last broke. As the Arabs continued their fire, a nine-pounder and Gatling gun were brought into play upon the bushes, and the fire of the enemy soon died out and they fell back to their camp. The troops now had breakfast, and soon after they had finished the cavalry arrived from the other zareba. At eight o'clock the Mounted Infantry moved out, accompanied by a party of Abyssinian scouts. They had gone but a short distance when a very heavy fire was opened upon them, and the officer in command sent back to the general to say that there was a broad ravine stretching across the country a few hundred yards ahead, although hidden by the bushes from observation until closely approached, and that this ravine was held by the enemy in great force. The infantry now moved 138 CHARGED BY THE NATIVES. out from the zareba, formed in two squares. The second brigade, composed of the Eoyal Highlanders, the 65th, and the Marines, led the way. It was commanded by General Davis, and in its centre rode General Graham with his staff. As soon as this had marched out the first brigade followed, taking its place in echelon a hundred yards on its right rear, so that its fire commanded its right flank and protected it from an attack in the rear. It consisted of the 89th, 75th, and 60th Rifles, under General Buller. The camels and baggage animals remained under a guard at the zareba. The Mounted Infantry and Abyssinians fell back as the first brigade advanced, and as soon as they had moved clear of the face of the square the machine-guns at its angles opened fire. The enemy's fire soon ceased, and the brigade again advanced. But the Arabs had simply thrown themselves down and had not retreated, and their fire broke out again as soon as that of the machine-guns ceased. General Graham now gave the order for the Highlanders, who formed the front face of the square, to charge. With a cheer they went forward at the double, and sweeping the enemy before them soon reached the head of the ravine. The result of the order was, however, that the square was broken up. Its front face had moved on at a run, while the flanks and rear had continued their march at the same pace as before, and there was consequently a wide gap between the 65 th on the right flank and the Highlanders in front. Orders were given to the 65th to hurry up; but as they did so, masses of the enemy were seen coming on at a run and making for the gap in the square. The right companies of the 65th tried to form up to meet them, while Lieutenant Graham, R.N., with the men of the Naval Brigade working the three machine-guns under his com- mand, threw himself into the gap. But the yells of the enemy and the roar of musketry rendered it impossible for the men to hear the orders given, and before the 65th had formed up „ '^.;-v /••i» ^H >lM|n|> MHM •V.V '.:, - Mounted Inr.v ^i^^s- Royul Marines ' '' / ^^ ^ MAIN ATTACK ".•.''•'*%' K.-:^!^'"- Sussex Reg.' JJclaila of various Corps- .I?!''- Hussars ^ /^\ N,--"""^ N-;^". Jc^) j.^'J^'? Battle of Abu Klea -^M"^ /~^^ JAMUARY 17 V.' 1335 Battle of tawiai. 13iH. MARCH 1834 <;CIullcr} jfzABIBA -rM March ^pV >* ^^'' ., KHOrt C«C3 '"'. - /-Jo nnn s jr , A ];i;0KKN s(,)UAi:k. 139 the cneiny were close at hand. Their fii'C and that of tlic (Jathngs mowed down the Arabs m hundreds, but the wihl mob charged on. Some hurled themselves on to the Goth, others poured like a wave over the little group of sailors, while the rest, dashing through the gap, tiung themselves on the rear of the 42d. The sergeants, whose place is in rear of the men, were cut down almost to a man ; and the rear rank, facing round, were at once engaged in a desperate hancl-to-hand fight with the natives. All was now confusion. Fresh masses of the enemy })oured down with exulting shouts, and in a confused crowd the brigade retreated. Had not help been at hand they would probably have met with the same fate that befell Baker's force, and none would have reached Suakim to tell the news of the massacre. The sailors, in vain trying to drag off their guns, were almost all killed, and the guns fell into the hands of the enemy. But a check was given to the advance of the Arabs by the cavalry, who had moved forward to the left of the square. The officer in command saw that were he to charge across the broken ground his little force would be lost among the throng of Arabs. He therefore dismounted them, and they poured volley after volley with their carbines into the thick of the enemy. In the meantime General Buller's square was ad- vancing. It had been attacked as desperately as had that of General Davis; but it was well handled, and its formation had not been broken up by any order such as that which had destroyed the formation of the other brigade. So steady and terrible a fire was opened upon the advancing enemy that not one of the assailants reached the face of the square; and having repulsed the attacks, it advanced rapidly to the relief of the shattered brigade ahead, pouring incessant volleys into the ranks of the Arabs as they swept down to its assault. Thus, as they advanced, the first brigade cleared the right face of the second from its foes, and as soon as they came up with the retreating force these halted and reformed their ranks 140 DEFEAT OF THE ARABS. Both brigades were now formed in line, and advanced steadily towards the ravine. Upon their way they came upon the aban- doned guns, which the enemy had in vain tried to carry off. Sweeping the Arabs before them, the British force reached the edge of the ravine. It was filled by the flying Arabs, and into these a terrible fire was poured by the musketry and guns until the Arabs had gained the opposite side and were concealed among the bushes. The fighting was now over, although the enemy still maintained a distant fire. It was necessary, how- ever, to keep the troops together, for numbers of the Arabs still lay hidden among the bushes, leaping up and flinging themselves desperately upon any who approached them. The scene of the conflict was terrible. A hundred and twenty of the British lay dead, of whom more than half belonged to the 42d. Three naval officers and ten sailors were killed, while a large number of ofiicers and men of the 42d and 65th were seriously wounded. The slaughter among the natives had been very great — no less than four thousand of them strewing the ground in all directions. The British wounded were sent back to the zareba, and the force again advanced. Crossing the ravine they made towards three villages in its rear. Here was Osman Digma's camp, and the Arabs mustering in strength again opened a heavy fire. They were, however, unable to with- stand the British guns and the heavy volleys of the infantry, and the troops advanced into the camp. It was found filled with property of all kinds; for the Arabs had removed nothing, making perfectly sure that they should be able to repel the English advance. Bags of money, bundles of clothing, Korans, great quantities of grain, and plunder of all kinds were found in the huts. Osman Digma himself had taken no part whatever in the fight. lie had looked on from a distant eminence, and when he saw the repulse of the Arab attack and the flight of his men he at once made off. The next day the cavalry went on to a village two or three miles distant. Here they found a great Cjuantity of ammuni- A sii()HT-si(;iitp:d policy. 141 tioii for Knipp cannon and otlior loot, wliicli had licon cap- tured from the forces of IJaker and MoncrielF. I'lie vilhige was burnt and the ammunition hlown up. The next day the force stai'ted on its return march, after burning and destroying Osman's camp and the three adjoining viUages. Xo attempt was made to pursue Osman Digma or his Arabs. The country beyond was steep and mountainous, and there would have been no chance whatever of overtaking and capturing him, Avhile the troops might have been attacked in difficult positions and have suftered heavily. It was supposed that after the two crushing defeats that had been inflicted on the enemy, and the proof so afforded of the falsehood of Osman Digma's pretensions, the tribesmen would no longer believe in him, and that his authority would have been altogether destroyed. The expectation was not, however, justified by events, for two years later the Arabs again mus- tered under him in such formidable numbers, that another expedition was necessary to protect Suakim against the gather- ing of fanatics reassembled under Osman's banner. The cavalry had suffered no loss during the operations, and as they had had some share in the fighting, and had materially aided the shattered brigade by their fire upon the Arabs, they were not ill satisfied that they had not been called upon to take a more prominent part in the operations. But little time was lost at Suakim. The greater part of the troops were at once embarked on the transports and taken up to Suez, a small body only being left to protect the town should the Arabs again gather in force. The policy was a short-sighted one. Had a protectorate been established over the country to the foot of the hills, and a force sufficient to maintain it left there, the great bulk of the tribesmen would have willingly given in their allegiance, and no further hostile movement upon the part of Osman Digma would have been possible; but the fact that we hastened away after fighting, and afforded no protection Avhatever to the friendly natives, eflfectually 142 FEARS FOR GORDON. deterred others from throwing in their lot with lis, and enabled Osman Digma gradually to restore his power and influence among them. Short though the campaign had been it had the effect of causing some inflammation in Edgar's wounds, and as soon as the expedition returned to the coast the surgeon ordered him into hospital, and it was six weeks before he again took his place in the ranks. By this time the regiment was re-united at Cairo, and there was for some months nothing to break the even tenor of their way. Long ere this Edgar had learnt that his recommendation for the Victoria Cross had not been acceded to. This, however, was no surprise, for after what he had heard from Major Horsley he had entertained but little hope that he would be among the favoured recipients of the cross. "Never mind, Ned," a comrade said to him when the list was published and his name was found to be absent. " It is not always those that most deserve the cross who get it. We know that you ought to have had it, if any fellow ever did, and we shall think just as much of you as if you had got it on your breast." In spite of the heat cricket matches were got up at Cairo, and the Hussars distinguished themselves here as they had done at Aldershot. The chief topic of interest, however, was the question of the safety of Khartoum, and especially that of General Gordon. He had been sent out bj' the British govern- ment in hopes that the great influence he possessed among the natives might enable him to put a stop to the disorder that prevailed in the Soudan. At the time that he had been in the service of the Egyptian government he had ruled so wisely and well in the Soudan that his prestige among the natives was enormous. He had suppressed slave-trading and restored order throughout the wide province, and by mingling mercy with justice he was at once admired and feared even by those whose profits had been annihilated by the abolition of the slave-trade. A VACTLLATTNO OOVERNMKNT. 143 Hut altlionL^h Gordon liad boon raptnronsly received by the inliabitants of Kliartoum, the tribes of the Soudan had not rallied, as it was hoped they would do, in opposition to the Mahdi, whose armies had gradually advanced and had besieged the city. General Gordon with the troops there had made expeditions up the river in the steamers, and brought in pro- visions for the besieged town; he had fought several battles with the Mahdists, in which he had not always been successful, and it was known that unless help arrived the city must finally surrender. Many letters had been received from him asking urgently for aid, but Aveeks and months passed, and the govern- ment who had sent him out were unable to make up their minds to incur the cost necessary for the despatch of so distant an expedition. In Cairo public feeling ran very high, and among the troops there the indignation at this base desertion of one of England's noblest soldiers was intense and general. At last the news came that public feeling in England had become so strong that government could no longer resist it, and that orders had been issued to prepare an expedition with all haste. A number of flat-boats were to be built for conveying the troops up the Nile. Canadian boatmen had been sent for to aid in the navi- gation of the river- Camels were to be purchased in Egypt, a mounted infantry corps organized, and stores of all kinds hastily collected. People who knew the river shook their heads, and said that the decision had been delayed too long. The Nile would have fallen to a point so low that it would be difficult if not impos- sible to pass up the cataracts, and long before help could reach Khartoum the city and its noble governor would have fallen into the hands of the Mahdi. There was much disgust among the troops when it was known that many of them would remain in Lower Egypt, and that of the cavalry especially but a very small force would be taken, while three regiments mounted on camels, two of them 144 PASSED OVER consisting of cavalry men from England, would take part in the expedition. Some of the soldiers, however, looked at the matter more philosophically. "AYe have had our share," they argued, "and if the Mahdi's men fight as well as Osman Digma's we are quite willing that others should have their whack. There will be no end of hard work, and what fighting they get won't be all one way. Sand and heat, and preserved meat and dirty water out of wells, are not very pleasant when you have to stick to them for months together. Like enough, too, there will be another rumpus down at Suakim while the expedition is away, and then those who are left here now will get some more of it." But although these arguments were loudly uttered, there was no doubt that there was considerable soreness, and that the men felt the hardship of favoured troops from England being employed in their stead in a service that, if dangerous, was likely to offer abundant opportunities for the display of courage and for gaining credit and honour. CHAPTER IX. THE CAMEL CORPS. TRUMPETER Smith! Trumpeter Smith!" The shout ran through the arched corridor of the barracks, and a soldier putting his head through one of the windows repeated the cry at the top of his voice, for Trumpeter Smith was not in his barrack-room. Edgar, in fact, was walking on the shady side of the great court-yard chatting with two other troopers when his name was shouted. "Hullo! What is it f- " You are to go to Major Horsley's quarter.?." IS TIIF.RE ANYTHING YOU WANtV 115 Edgar buttoned up his jacket, ran to tlie washing-place, phinged his head and liands in water and hastily dried them, smoothed down his hair with his pocket- comb at a piece of looking-glass that had been stuck up against the wall above the basins, and adjusting his cap to the correct angle made his way to Major Horsley's quarters, wondering much what he could be wanted for, but supposing that he was to be sent on some message into the town. The soldier-servant showed him into the room where Major Horsley and his wife were sitting. After a word or two of kindly greeting from the lady, Major Horsley went on •. " I told you a long time back. Smith, that I should not forget the service you did my wife and her sister, and that I Avould do you a good turn if I ever got the chance. Is there anything you particularly want at present V' " No, sir, except that I have been thinking that I should be glad to give up my trumpet. I am just eighteen now, and it Avould be better for me, I think, to take my regular place in the ranks. I should be more likely to be promoted there than I am as a trumpeter." "Yes, you would be sergeant in a very short time. Smith; after your behaviour at El-Teb you would be sure of your stripes as soon as you were eligible for them. But I should not advise you to give up your trumpet just at the present moment." " Very well, sir," Edgar said, somewhat surprised. " But there is something else you are wishing for, is there not? I fancy every officer and man in the regiment is wishing for it." "To go up the Nile, sir?" Edgar said eagerly. "Yes; I do wish that, indeed. Is there any chance of the regiment going, sir?" " No, I am sorry to say there is not," the major said. "And a very good thing too, Richard," his wife put in. " I do not think so at all. It is the hardest thing ever heard of that the regiments here that have had all the heat and hard (650) K 146 "YOU ARE TO GO." work, and everything else of this beastly place, are to be left behind, while fellows from England go on. Well, Smith," he went on, turning to Edgar, "I am glad to say I have been able to do you a good turn. When I was in the orderly-room just now a letter came to the colonel from the general, saying that a trumpeter of the Heavy Camel Corps is down with sunstroke and will not be able to go, and requesting him to detail a trumpeter to take his place. I at once seized the opportunity and begged that you might be chosen, saying that I owed you a good turn for your plucky conduct at Aldershot. The ad- jutant, I am glad to say, backed me up, saying that you have done a lot of credit to the regiment with your cricket, and that the affair at El-Teb alone ought to single you out when there was a chance like this going. The colonel rather thought that you were too young, but we urged that as you had stood the climate at Suakim you could stand it anywhere on the face of the globe. So you are to go, and the whole regiment will envy you." "I am obliged to you indeed, sir," Edgar said in delight. "I do not know how to thank you, sir." " I do not want any thanks. Smith, for a service that has cost me nothing. Now you are to go straight to Sergeant Edmonds. I have sent him a note already, and he is to set the tailors at work at once to rig you out in the karkee uniform. We cannot get you the helmet they are fitted out with. But no doubt they have got a spare one or two; pro- bably they will let you have the helmet of the man whose place you are to take. You will be in orders to-morrow morn- ing, and I have asked Edmonds to get your things all finished by that time. Come in and say good-bye before you start in the morning." There was no slight feeling of envy when Edgar's good fortune became known, and the other trumpeters were unani mous in declaring that it was a shame his being chosen. "Well, you see, you could not all go," the trumpet-major "BR A Cr.KDIT TO TIIK RROTMENT." 147 said, "and if Smith liad not been chosen it would liave hccn long odds against each of you." "15ut he is the last joined of the lot," one of the men urged. " He can blow a trumpet as well as any of you," the sergeant said, " and that is what he is wanted for. I think that it is natural enough the colonel should give him the pull. The officers think a good deal of a fellow who helped the regiment to win a dozen matches at cricket, and who carried off the long-distance running prize at Aldershot; besides, he behaved uncommonly well in that fight, and has as good a right to the V.C. as any man there. I think that a fellow like that ought to have the pull if only one is to get it, and I am sure the whole regiment will be of opinion that he has deserved the chance he has got." By the next morning the suit of karkee was ready, and Edgar was sent for early to the orderly-room and officially informed by the colonel that he had been detailed for service in the Heavy Camel Corps. "I need not tell you. Smith, to behave yourself well — to be a credit to the regiment. I should not have chosen you for the service unless I felt perfectly confident that you would do that. I hope that you will come back again safe and sound with the regiment. Good-bye, lad!" Edgar saluted and left the room. Several of the officers followed him out and bade him a cheery farewell, for he was a general favourite. All knew that he was a gentleman, and hoped that he would some day win a commission. He then accompanied Major Horsley to his quarters, and there the officer and his Avife both shook hands with him warmly. "You will be a sergeant three months after you come back," Major Horsley said; "and your having been on this Nile expedition, and your conduct at El-Teb, will help you on when the time comes, and I hope you will be one of us before many years are over." Edgar then went up to his barrack-room to say good-bye 148 THE HEAVY CAMEL CORPS. to his friends, and took off his smart Hussar uniform and put on the karkee suit, amid much laughter and friendly chaff at the change in his appearance. The adjutant had ordered a trooper to accompany him to the camp of the Camel Corps, which was pitched close by the Pyramids, and to bring back his horse. He therefore mounted and rode out of the barracks, amid many a friendly farewell from his comrades. He rode with his companion into the town and down to the river, crossed in a ferry-boat, and then rode on to the camp. In- quiring for the adjutant's tent Edgar dismounted and walked up to that officer, and presented a note from the colonel. The officer glanced at it. "Oh, you have come to accom- pany us!" he said. "You look very young for the work, lad; but I suppose your colonel would not have chosen you unless he thought you could stand it. I see you have got our uniform, but you want a helmet. We can manage that for you. Ser- geant Jepherson, see if Trumpeter Johnson's helmet will fit this man; he is going with us in his place. Fit him out with water-bottle and accoutrements, and tell him off to a tent." The helmet fitted fairly, and only needed a little padding to suit Edgar, who, after putting it on, ran out to where his comrade was waiting for him and fastened his own head-gear to the pummel of his saddle. " Good-bye, young un!" the trooper said. " Hold your own with these heavies for the honour of the regiment. They mean well, you know, so don't be too hard upon them." Edgar laughed as he shook the man by the hand, and as he rode off" turned to look at the scene around liim. There were two camps at a short distance from each other, that of the Heavy Camel Corps to which he now belonged, com- posed of men of the 1st and 2d Life Guards, Blues, Bays, 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, Eoyals, Scots Greys, 5th and 16th Lancers. The other was the Guards Corps, composed of men of the three regiments of foot guards. Edgar's first feeling as he looked at the men who were standing about or lying in the "I WILL I>UT IIIM Ul' TO TJIK llUl'KS." II!) hIkkIo of tlio littlo triiuigular liidiau iiiouuLuiu-.scrvico tents, was that he had suddenly grown smaller. He was fully up to the average height of the men of his own regiment, Init ho felt small indeed by the side of the big men of the heavy cavalry regiments. "This Avay, lad," the sergeant into whose charge he had been given, said. "What is your name]" " 1 am down as Nod Smith." The sergeant smiled at the answer, for no inconsiderable number of men enlist under false names. He led the Avay tlu'ough the little tents until he stopped before one where a tall soldier was lying at full length on the sand. " Willcox, this man has come to take the place of Trumpeter Johnson. He i>i detached for duty with us from the Hussars. He will, of course, share your tent." " All right, sergeant ! I will put him up to the ropes. What's your name, mate?" "I go as Ned Smith," Edgar said. "So you are going in for being a heavy at present." " I don't care whether I am a heavy or a light, so that I can go up the river." " Have you been out here longi" "About a year; we were through the fighting at Suakim, you knoAv. It was pretty hot down there, I can tell you." "It is hot enough here for me — a good deal too hot, in fact; and as for the dust, it is awful ! "Yes, it is pretty dusty out here," Edgar agreed; "and of course, with these little tents, the wind and dust sweep right through them. Over there in Cairo Ave have comfortable barracks, and as we keep close during the day we don't feel the heat. Besides, it is getting cooler now. In August it Avas really hot for a bit even there." "Where are Ave going to get these camels, do you knoAV?" "Up the river at Assouan, I believe; but I don't knoAV very nmch about it. It Avas only yesterday afternoon I got orders 150 THE PYRAMIDS. that 1 was to go with you, to take the place of one of your men who had fallen sick, so I have not paid much attention as to what was going on. It has been rather a sore subject with us, you see. It did seem very hard that the regiments here that have stood the heat and dust of this climate all along should be left behind now that there is something exciting to do, and that fresh troops from England should go up." " Well, I should not like it myself, lad. Still I am precious glad I got the chance. I am one of the 5th Dragoon Guards, and you know we don't take a turn of foreign service — though why we shouldn't I am sure I don't know — and we are precious glad to get a change from Aldershot and Birmingham and Brighton, and all those home stations. You are a lot younger than any of us here. The orders were that no one under twenty-two was to come." " So I heard; but of course as we are out here, and we have got accustomed to it, age makes no difference." "What do they send us out here for?" " There are no barracks empty in the town, no open spaces where you could be comfortably encamped nearer. Besides, this gives you the chance of seeing the Pyramids." "It is a big lump of stone, isn't if?" Willcox said, staring at the Great Pyramid. "The chaps who built that must have been very hard up for a job. AVhen I first saw it I was downright disappointed. Of course I had heard a lot about it, and when we got here it wasn't half as big as I expected. After we had pitched our tents and got straight, two or three of us thought we would climb up to the top, as we had half an hour to spare. Just as we set off one of the officers came along and said, ' Where are you going, lads?' and I said, "The cooks won't have tea ready for half an hour, sir, so we thought we would just get up to the top and look round.' And he said, ' If you do you will be late for tea.' "Well, it didn't seem to us as if it would take more than five minutes to get to the top and as much to get down again. DRILL. 151 SO ofl" wu went. r>nt directly Ave began to clinil) we found the job w;is not as easy as we had expected. It looked to us as if there was but a hundred steps to go up; but each step turned out to be about five feet high, and we hadn't got up above twenty of them when the trumpet sounded, and we pretty near broke our necks in coming down again. After that I got more respect for that lump of stone. Most of the oflicers went up next day, and a few of us did manage it, but I wasn't one of them. I did try again; but I concluded that if I wanted to go up the Nile, and to be of any good when I got there, I had best give it up, for there would not be anything left of me to speak of by the time I got to the top. Then those Arab fellows got round, and shrieked and jabbered and wanted to pull us up; and the way they go up and down those stones is wonderful. But of course they have no weight to carry. No, I never should try that job again, not if we were to be camped here for the next ten years." "I have been up to the top," Edgar said; "but it is certainly a hard pull, and there is nothing much to see when you do get there — only so much more sand in all directions. The view from the great mosque at Cairo is much liner. Do you have much drill?" "Morning and evening we work away pretty stiff. It is infantry drill we have. They say we are not going to fight on the camels, but only to be carried along by them and to get off and fight if we see the enemy, and as we are all new to each other there is a good bit of work to be done to get us down to work as one battalion. We and the 4th make a troop together. We have drill in the afternoon, too, for a bit. Of a morning those that like can go across and have a look at the town. I went yesterday. Rum old place, isn't if? The rum- miest thing is the way those little donkeys get about with a fat chap perched on the top of a saddle two feet above them. Never saw such mokes in my life. They ain't bigger than good-sized dogs some of them, and yet they go along with 152 CAMELS. fifteen or sixteen stone on their backs as if they did not feel it. Those and the camels pleased me most. Rum beasts those camels. I can't think what it must feel like to be stuck up on top of them, and if one does fall off it must be like coming off a church. Have you tried one?" " No. I have never been on a camel. Of course we always have had our horses." "Why didn't they get us horses'?" " I don't know. They could have bought a couple of thou- sand, no doubt, if they had tried; besides, they could have got some from the Egyptian cavalry. But if they had they would never have sent out you and the Guards; though the horses would have done very well to carry light cavalry. I fancy the idea is that in the first place we have to go long distances without water. Camels can stand thirst for three or four days together, and each camel can carry water for its rider. Then, too, we may perhaps march sometimes, and the camels could carry water and food. So, you see, they will be useful both ways." " Well, I suppose it is all right," Willcox said; " and as you say, if they had gone in for horses they could not have carried us heavies. I am precious glad to come. So are we all; though why they wanted to bring us and the Guards — the biggest and heaviest men they could pick out in the army — on a job like this, is more than I can say." "It is more than anyone can say, I should think," Edgar said; and indeed no reason has ever been assigned for the singular choice of the heaviest men that could be collected in the service for duty on a campaign such as this was to be, and for which light, active, wiry men were especially suitable. "There is the dinner call." "What troop are we in?" Edgar asked, seizing his trumpet, and on learning at once gave the troop call. " We are in messes of eight," Willcox replied. " We and the three tents to the right have one mess. It is our turn to go over and get the grub." A COMTAUISON. 153 Acct)i\liiiij,ly Willcox and Edgar went across to the iiuld- kitclicii and received the rations for their mess, consisting of beef and vegetables — the bread for the day had been served out early. Eeturning to the tents the rations were divided between the party of eight, and Edgar was introduced by Willcox to his now messmates. "Your regiment was at Aldcrshot with us eighteen months ago." " Yes; but I did not know any of your men. 1 was over one or two evenings at your canteen, which was by a long way the best in the camp." " Yes, we used to have some good singing there and no mis- take," one of the men said. " The Long Valley is not bad in the way of dust, but this place beats it hollow," another put in. " This is a cleaner dust," Edgar said. " The Long Valley dust blackened one; tliis does not seem to have any dirt in it. As far as the uniforms go there is not much difierence, but one doesn't feel so grimy after a charge over this Egyptian sand as one did in the Long Valley." " We played you fellows at cricket, I remember," the man said. " I was in our eleven. You beat us, for you had a youngster we could not stand up against, he was a beggar to bowl." Edgar laughed. " I rather think I am the fellow," he said, "Trumpeter Smith." " It was Trumpeter Smith, sure enough. Well, you can bowl and no mistake, young un. It is rum meeting out here like this. And how have you been getting on since? You fellows were in the thick of it at El-Teb, I saw; and got cut up a bit by those niggers, didn't you?" " That we did," Edgar replied. " I am not sorry that we are going to fight as infantry this time, for I can tell you it is not pleasant charging among fellows who throw themselves down and hamstring your horse or drive a spear into him as he passes 154 "WHEN ARE WE GOING TO START?" over them; and once down it is likely to go pretty hard with you." " The infantry had it pretty hot too at Tamanieb] " " Yes, they got into one of our squares, and I don't think many of our fellows would have ever got away if it had not been that Buller's square came up to their assistance. Still, I don't suppose that will ever happen again. If the infantry stand firm and shoot straight they ought never to be broken, while that cavalry business was a thing nothing could guard against. The best horseman in the world may go down if a fellow shams dead and then suddenly stabs your horse." "There is no doubt the beggars can fight," AVillcox said; " and I expect we shall get some tough work before we get to Khartoum. I only hope they won't catch us suddenly before we have time to get off those camels. Fancy being stuck up on one of those long-legged beasts with half a dozen niggers making a cock-shy of you with their spears." " I don't think that will happen," Edgar replied. " We shall have the 19th to act as scouts, and as there will be no woods or thick scrub, from what I have heard of the country, as there was on the plains round Suakim, we ought not to be surprised." " This meat is horribly tough," Willcox remarked. " It strikes me they ought to have examined every one's mouth before they sent them out, and to have chosen men with good sets of grinders, for I am sure they will want them for this stuff." "The meat is tough out here. You see, it won't keep and has to be cooked pretty nearly warm, but it is better by a long way than that tinned meat which is all we shall get, I expect, when we once start." "When are we going to start?" "In a few days, I should think. The boats are being taken uj) fast, and I believe a lot of the Canadians went up yesterday. There are two or three infantry regiments up there ready to go on as soon as the boats for them get up; and as most of the camels are up there too, I should think they will push us up as KXl'LAININO THK UOUTK. 155 soon as thoy can, as I sui)pose we arc intended to go ahead of the boats and clear the banks." Then they l:)egan to talk about the route, and Edgar, who had studied the maps and knew all that was known on the subject of the journey, drew on the sand the course of the Nile with its windings and turnings. " You see the river makes a tremendous bend here," he said, " round by Berber. The general idea is that when we get to this spot, Avhere there is a place called Ambukol, if there is news that Gordon is hard pressed and cannot hold out long, a column will march across this neck to Metemmeh, where there are some of Gordon's steamers. I expect that is the work that will fall to the Camel Corps, and that it is specially for this that we have been got up. You see, the rest of the journey is along the water side, and horses would have done just as well as camels, and would be much more useful, for, of course, the infantry will do the main fighting, and the cavalry are only wanted for scouting and pursuit. Camels are no good for either one work or the other, for nothing will persuade the beggars to move out of their regular pace, which is just about two and three-quarter miles an hour. If they did not intend to cut across this neck, I don't see what they wanted more than the boats with the infantry and a regiment or two of light cavalry on these country horses, which are wonderfully hardy and can stand work that would knock English horses to pieces in no time." "Well, then, all that I can say is," Willcox put in, " that it is very lucky for us that the river makes that big twist, other- wise we might be all kicking our heels at Aldershot or the Curragh, or in some garrison town. But I thought camels were fast beasts. I am sure I have seen pictures of Arabs riding about in the desert at a tremendous pace." " There are some sort of camels called riding camels that are faster than the others, and there are dromedaries, which can trot as fast as a horse and keep it up for a long time; but the riding 156 "ILL-TEMPERED BRUTES." camels and dromedaries are both scarce and expensive, and you may be sure we shall not have many of them with us." " They are beastly ill-tempered looking brutes," Willcox said. "When I was walking in the streets there the other day a string of them came along, and they grumbled and growled like wild beasts, and one showed his teeth and made as if he was going right at me. If I had not jumped into a shop I believe he would have had my ear off." " They can bite, and bite very hard too; but it is very seldom they do, though they do make a wonderful pretence of being fierce. They call them the patient camel, but from Avhat I have seen of them I should say that they are the most impatient, grumbling beasts in creation. It makes no difference what you do for them — whether you load them or unload them, or tell them to get up or lie down, or to go on or stop — they always seem equally disgusted, and grumble and growl as if what you wanted them to do was the hardest thing in the world. Still, they can do a tremendous lot of work, and keep on any number of hours, and I don't know what the people of this country would do without them." In the afternoon Edgar paraded with his troop and fell into the usual routine of dutj'-. As he had had a year's campaigning in Egypt he was regarded as an authority, and after three or four days was as much at home with the troop as he had been in his own regiment. He found these big men very pleasant and cheery companions. All had been picked for the service as being men of exemplary character; they were in high spirits at the prospect of the expedition before them, and were like a party of great school-boys out on a holiday. They took to Edgar kindly; belonging, as he did, to the light cavalry, they regarded him as a sort of guest among them, and from his being so much younger and smaller than themselves they looked upon him as a boy, and he quickly got the nickname of "The Kid." Many questions were asked him as to the fighting powers of the wild natives. SAVAOR COURACiE. 15? "How they could break rij^lit into a square licats me alto- gether," one of the big trooi^ers said. " Tlicy always tell us that cavalry have no chance nowadays of breaking into a scjuarc, for they would all be shot down by the breech-loaders before they could reach it, and yet these niggers, with nothing but spears, manage to do it. I cannot make head or tail of it; no more I can of you chaps getting cut up by them." •' You will understand it when you see it," Edgar said. " They run pretty nearly as fast as a horse can gallop, and they don't seem to fear death in the slightest, for they believe that if they are killed they go straight to heaven. It seems to me that savages must be braver than civilized soldiers. It was the same thing with the Zulus, you know, they came right down on our men at Isandula, and the fire of the breech-loaders did not stop them in the slightest." " No more it would stop us, young un, if we got orders to charge. It did not at Balaclava." "No, that is true enough," Edgar agreed; "but then we have got discipline. The order is given, and the whole regi- ment goes off together; one could not hold back if one would. But that is a different thing from rushing forward each man on his own account, as they did against us, and running up to what seemed certain death. I know the feeling among our fellows was that they would not have believed it had they not seen it." " Well, I hope we shall get a chance of seeing it," the man said, "only I hope that we shall not be atop of them camels when they try it. I have been looking at the beasts over there in the city, and there does not seem to me to be any go about them. Beastly-tempered brutes ! I don't believe you could get a charge out of them if you tried ever so much." "No, I don't think you could," Edgar laughed. "But, you see, we are intended to fight on foot. We shall be like the old dragoons, who used their horses only to carry them to the place where they were to fight." 158 GOOD NEWS. " No chance of any loot? " another put in. " No chance in the world. At the best of times they wear a sort of dirty cotton sheet round their shoulders, but when they go into battle they leave that behind them, and fight only in their loin-cloths." " I have heard," an old soldier said, " from some of our chaps who fought in the Indian mutiny, that they often found a lot of money and jewels and things in those loin-cloths of the sepoys." " Ah, that was because they had been plundering treasuries and capturing booty of all sorts. But I do not suppose many of these Arabs ever saw a gold coin in their lives. They don't see many silver ones. What wealth they have is in sheep and cattle and horses, and with these they barter for such things as they require. No; if you are fighting out here for a year you will get nothing except a few worthless charms, of no value whatever except as curios." "Well, I wish they would let us be off," another said. "I am sick already of these sands and that big lump of stone. I hear the boats are going up every day, and if they do not move us soon the infantry will be there before us." " I think we shall travel a good deal faster than they do when we are once off," Edgar said. " They will have rapids and all sorts of difficulties to contend with, while we shall go on steadily, five-and-twenty miles a day perhaps. You may be sure we shall be well in front when the time for work comes. They would never go to the expense of sending you all out, and mounting you on camels, and then keep you behind." "Have you heard the news, lads?" a sergeant asked, joining the group. "No! What is it?'' "We are to strike tents at four o'clock this afternoon, march down to the river, embark in a steamer, and start to-night. '' " Hooray ! " the men shouted. " That is the best news we have had since we landed." ON THR NILE. 159 In a sliort time most of the men were at work giving a final polish to their arms. By four o'clock the tents were levelled and rolled up, the baggage was packed and sent forward on camels, and the regiment was formed up awaiting the orders to march. The heat of the day had somewhat abated, but the march, short as it was, was a trying one, from the clouds of light sand that rose from beneath the feet of the column, and the men were heartily glad when they embarked, two troops on board the steamer and the rest on large fiats which she was to tow- up the stream. Kits and belts were taken off, and the men made themselves as comfortable as the crowded state of the flats would permit. The officers were on board the steamer. As they started a loud cheer broke from the men. They were fairly off at last. There was no thought of the dangers and difficulties before them. It was enough for them that they were fairly on their way up the Nile to relieve, as they hoped, Khartoum, and to rescue Gordon. " If this is campaigning I don't care how much we have of it," the soldier who was sitting next to Edgar said, looking up at the deep blue sky studded with stars. "This suits me down to the ground." "You had better make the most of it," Edgar laughed, "it won't last long; and you will have nothing like it again. I own that, at any rate until we reach the highest point to which the boats can go, I think the infantry have got the best of it. Of course they will have hard work in hauling the boats jDast the rapids, and they will have some rowing to do when the wind is too light for the sails to carry them up, but I would rather sit in a boat and row than sit on the back of a camel." "But the boats will go all the way, won't they?" " It is not known yet. It is possible that when we get to a place named Korti, where the river makes a tremendous bend, some of us may cross the desert to Metemmeh, where Gordon's steamers will meet us. If we do I expect that will be the work of the three Camel Corps, and all the boats will go right 160 THE NEW CHARGERS, round the river and join us there; that is, if they can get up the cataracts. I know the Egyptians say the water will be too low for the boats to go up. That may be true enough as to the native boats, but ours draw so little water that I believe there must always be depth enough for them, for there is always a good lot of water coming down here even at the driest season." The regiment was disembarked at Assouan, and the next day four companies went up in two steamers to Wady Haifa, a hundred and eighty miles higher up the river. Edgar's troop formed part of the detachment. They had expected to see a place of some size, but found that it consisted only of a few mud huts and some sheds of the unfinished railway. Here for some days the men practised infantry drill and received their equipments and saddles, and then they were marched to the camel depot a mile away. The soldiers were immensely amused at the sight of their chargers. These animals had been collected from all parts of Egypt, from Aden and Arabia. As soon as the proper number had been received and told off to the men, the work of fitting on the saddles commenced. This was by no means easy, as the camel humps differed greatly from each other, and a good deal of padding and altering was necessary before the saddles were comfortably fitted. When the men mounted they formed in line, and found that the animals were docile and obedient to the rein, and manoeuvred together without difficulty. Several days were spent in learning to sit the animals, and there were many spills, but as the sand was deep no harm came of them, and they caused great amusement to all except the victims themselves. The greatest difficulty was the mounting and dismounting, both of which performances had to be done when the camel was kneeling. In order to make him kneel it was necessary to tug at the head-rope, at the same time making a sound like clearing the throat. Then the rope was pulled at until his NOT A SOKT KICK. 1 (i I licad \vas lirmiglit round to his shoulder. This provontiMl him from getting up again. Tlu' ritlc, Avliich Avas shuig in a Imckct on one side hehind tlie rider, was found to render it inipossihlo to get the leg over, and it consequently became necessary for the man to mount with his ritie in his hand, and to drop it into the bucket afterwards. As the camel always rose and lay (h)\\ u with great suddenness, men were, until accustomed to it, constantly pitched over his head. '■ I never want to see a camel again," Edgar grumbled, after (inc or two days' exercise diversified by numerous falls; "they are the most discontented beasts I ever saw." "I don't mind their growling," a trooper said; "it is the twistiness of the brutes I hate. When you are looking after a horse you know what he can do and where he can reach you. Of course if you get behind him he can kick, but when you are standing beside him all that you have got to look after is his head, and he cannot bring that round to bite very far. These brutes can reach all over the place; they can kick at you any way. They can scratch their ears with their hind legs, and even rub the top of their humps with it if they are disposed, or scratch themselves under the chin. Their necks are the same, they can twist them anywhere. They can bite the root of their tails, and lay their heads back and give them a rub on the top of their humps. There is no safety with them at all; and when they come at you growling and roaring Avith their mouths open and showing their teeth it is enough to scare you." " It is fortunate that their hoofs are soft and spongy, so that they cannot hurt like the kick of a horse," Edgar said. "Spongy, be bloAved ! " the trooper replied. "Mine kicked me in the chest yesterday and 1 went flying about ten yards, and the breath was knocked out of my body for a quarter of an hour." "That Avas bad, no doubt," Edgar laughed; "but if it had been a horse you Avould be in the hospital-tent noAV Avith some (650) L 162 EXASPERATING! of your ribs broken, if you hadn't been smashed up alto- gether." "They are up to all sorts of tricks," the trooper went on, looking savagely at his growling camel. " There was Eogers, this morning, he was just passing a camel who was kneeling down. Well, who would think that a kneeling camel could do anything except with his head. Rogers swore that he did not go within four yards of him, and the brute suddenly shot out his hind leg and caught him on the knee and cut him clean over, and he thought for some time that his leg was broken. Blow all camels, I say ! " As the camels were not to be used for fighting from, in the presence of an enemy the troopers were to dismount and fight on foot. When down the camels were to be knee-haltered, one of the fore-legs being doubled up and strapped, which pre- vented the animal from rising. Each camel received about five pounds of grain night and morning, and the whole were taken down to the river every other day to drink. The conduct of many of them was exasperating in the extreme to their riders. When taken down into the stream they would stand and look about in an aimless way as if wondering what on earth they had been brought there for, and would be sometimes ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before the idea seemed to occur to them that they might as well have a drink. Once on the march they went steadily and well, obeying the slightest motion of the halter, and keeping up their regular pace without intermission from the time they started until they were ordered to halt. After a week's drill and practice the men became accustomed to the ways of their animals, and were glad when the order came for them to start. By this time the leading regiments of the infantry had begun to go up in their boats. These were broad, flat crafts, which had been specially built in England for the purpose. Each carried twelve men and three months' supply of provisions and stores for them. They were provided with HEAVY WORK. 163 sails and oars, and as the direction of the wind was up the river the sails were of great assistance. As the cavalry passed the Croat Cataract they had an oppor- tunity of seeing the process of getting the boats up. The rush of waters was tremendous, and it seemed well-nigh impossible to force the boats against them. It would indeed have been impossible to row them, and they were dragged up by tow- ropes by the united strength of the troops and a large number of natives. At times, in spite of all the efforts of the men at the ropes, the boats made no progress whatever, while if the steersman allowed the stream for a moment to take the boat's head it would be whirled round and carried down to the foot of the rapid, when the work had to be recommenced. The troopers thought, as they watched the exertions of the infantry, that, rough as was the action of the camels, they had decidedly the best of it, but such was not their opinion on the following day when, as they were jogging wearily along, several of the boats passed them running before a strong wind, with the soldiers on board reclining in comfortable positions in the bottom or on the thwarts. Again their opinions changed when, the wind having dropped, they saw the men labouring at the oars in the blazing sun. " There are pulls both ways," one of the troopers said philo- sophically, " and take it all round I don't know which has got the best of it. If there are many of these cataracts I should say w'c are best off, and they say there are lots of them between this and Khartoum." "I think we have got the best of it, certainly," Edgar said; "for if it comes to leaving the river and pushing on we are sure to be in it." The journey from Wady Haifa to Dongola was 235 miles. The day's march was generally about twenty miles, the halting- places being made at spots previously settled upon, where there were depots of provisions formed for them. The start was made about five o'clock in the morning. For the first two 164 THE MARCH. hours the men walked, leading their camels; then Avhen the sun became hot they mounted and rode the rest of the distance. At first they found the monotonous motion very trying, but became accustomed to it in time, and would even go olf to sleep in the saddles, with the result, however, that they were probably shot off if the camel came upon a sudden irregularity of the ground. In the cool of the evening the men bathed in the river, and the ofiicers often went out in search of game, which was found, however, to be very scarce. There were many regrets among the men that they had brought no fish-hooks or lines with them, for these would have furnished not only amusement during their halts, but might have afforded a welcome change to the monotony of their diet. The country bordering the Nile was composed of low rocky hills and hard gravel, with occasional tufts of dry grass and scrub. Sometimes the troops marched four abreast, at other times they had to go in single file across the rocky ground. The fun of the camel -riding very soon passed off, and the men found the marches extremely dull and monotonous, and were heartilj^ glad when they got to Dongola. Here the rest of the regiment joined them. Marching twenty miles up the river they crossed the Nile in boats, and another day's march took them to Shabadud; and after a stay there of some days, drilling with other corps, they moved on to Korti, four days' march. The site chosen for the camp de- lighted the men. Groves of palms grew along the steep banks of the river; beyond were fields of grass and broad patches of cultivated land. Here they were to wait until the rest of the mounted troops came up, and a portion, at any rate, of the infantry arrived in the boats. A I'lllKNULY tSEUUKANT. 165 CHAPTER X. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. IT is a nice place for a camp, isn't it, youngster?" " Very nice, sergeant; but it Avill soon be s[)oiled -with all these troops arriving. It is very pretty now with that grove of palm-trees, and the low green bushes that hide the sand, and the river with all the boats with white sails. I have just been counting them, there are thirty-two in sight. But when we get three or four regiments here they will soon cut down the scrub and spoil its appearance altogether." " That is so, lad; troops make a pretty clear sweep of every- thing where they settle down." Edgar had taken a good deal to Sergeant Boweu, who had shown him many little kindnesses on the way up. He was an older man than most of those engaged in the expedition, and Edgar judged him to be thirty-two or thirty-three years old. He was a fine, tall, soldierly-looking fellow, and had served in various parts of the world. "Let us sit down," the sergeant said; "this bush will give us a little shade. How long have you been in the army, ladl" " Better than two years. Directly the campaign is over I shall give up my trumpet, and hope I shall get my stripes soon." "How old are you — nineteen?" "Not for some months yet, sergeant." "Hope to get your commission some dayl" the sergeant said. " I suppose that is what you entered the army for." "Yes, partly, sergeant; partly because I saw no other way of keeping myself." "But what are your friends doing?" " I have not any friends; at least none that I care to apply to," Edgar answered shortly. " No friends, lad? That is bad. But I do not want to know 166 AN OLD SOLDIER. your story if you do not choose to tell it. It is easy to see that you have had a good education. Keep steady, lad, and you will get on. I might have been a quarter-master years ago if it hadn't been for that. Drink and other things have kept me down ; but when I was twenty I was a smart young fellow. Ah! that is a long time back." " Why, one would think that you were an old man, sergeant," Edgar said, and smiled, " Older than you would think by a good bit. How old do take me to be?" "Something past thirty." "A good deal past that. I am just forty, though they don't know it, or I should not be here." "Why, then, if you enlisted when you were my age, ser- geant, you must have done over twenty years' service." "It's twenty-two since I first enlisted. I served eight years in the infantry. I don't know why I am telling you this, but somehow I have taken a fancy to you. I was uncom- fortable in the regiment. It does not matter why. I got my stripes twice, and had to give them up or I should have been put back for drinking. Then I left the regiment without asking leave. I was three or four years knocking about at home; but I had no trade and found it hard to get work, so at last I enlisted again. I was thirty then, but looked years younger than I was. Of course I had shaved off my moustache and put on a smock-frock when I went to enlist, and I gave my age as twenty-two. No one questioned it. I chose the cavalry this time, because I knew that if I entered an infantry regiment again they would spot me as an old soldier at once; but as it was all new in the cavalry I managed to pass it off, and now I have had ten years' service, the last six of them as sergeant. And as I gave up drink years ago I have a good character in the regiment, and when a steady non-commissioned officer was wanted for this business I had the luck to be chosen. Officers coming, lad!" "TIIKKK WKRE TWO OF TI1EI\1." 1()7 Tlicy rose to their foet and saluted as three officers passed. They were talking eagerly together, and returned the salute mechanically without glancing at the two soldiers. " It is a rum chance, Clinton, onr meeting here. I ran against Skinner at Assouan quite accidentally. I had seen his name in the list of the ofHcers of the Marines going up ; but we met quite by chance, and only forgathered here yesterday, and now here you are turning up as one of Stewart's A.D.C.'s. Who would have thought that we three should meet here, when we have never seen each other since we left Cheltenham'?" The sergeant stood looking after them with an air of interest till their voices died away. Then he turned to his companion. "Hullo, lad, what is the matter? Are you ill?" " No, I am all right," Edgar said huskily. "Nonsense! Your colour has all gone, and you are shaking like a leaf. What! did you know any of those officers?" " I knew them all once," Edgar said. " We were at school together. I did not know that any of them were out here. I would not have them recognize me for anything." "Oh, that is it! I thought you must have run away from school; got into some scrape, I suppose. Well, my lad, as you have made your bed you must lie in it. But it is not likely that any of them would know you even if they ran up against you. Two years' service under this sun changes a lad of your age wonderfully. By the way, one of them called the other Clinton; do you happen to know whether he is the son of a Captain Clinton — Captain Percy Clinton?" "Yes, he is." "He was captain of my company when I was a young sergeant. Well, well, time flies fast, to be sure. Do you know whether this young fellow has a brother, and, if so, what he is doing?" " No, he has no brother," Edgar said shortly. "There were two of them," the sergeant said positively. " Perhaps one has died. I wonder which it was," he muttered to himself. 168 "I AM YOUR son!" "Do you know the story?" Edgar asked suddenly. " Do I know the story!" the sergeant repeated slowly. "What story do you mean?" " The story of Captain Clinton's baby being confused with another." "Oh, you know about that, do joni" Sergeant Bowen asked in turn. "So they made no secret of it. Ay, lad, I know it; every man in the regiment knew it. And good cause I had to know it, it was that that ruined me." "Are j^ou Sergeant Humphreys'?" Edgar asked, putting his hand on the man's shoulder. The sergeant started in surprise. "Why, lad, how come you to know all the ins and outs of that story'? Ay, I was Sergeant Humphreys, and for aught I know that young fellow who has just passed, whom they call Clinton, is my son." "No, he is not, sergeant; I am your son!" The sergeant looked at the young trumpeter in bewilder- ment, then his expression changed. " You have got a touch of fever, lad. Come along with me to the hospital; I will report you sick. The sooner you are out of the sun the better." "I am as sensible as I ever was in my life," Edgar said quietly. " I was brought up by Captain Clinton as his son. I was at Cheltenham with Rupert Clinton, who has just passed us. We believed that we were twins u.ntil the day came when a woman came down there and told me the story, and told me that I was her son and yours; then I ran away, and here I am." "My wife!" the sergeant exclaimed passionately. "I have not seen or heard of her for fifteen years. So she came down and told you that. She is a bad lot, if ever there was one. And so she told you you were my soul You may be, lad, for aught I know; and I should be well content to know that it was so. But what did she come and tell you that for'? What game is she up to now? I always knew she was up to some "A l!OI,n STKOKK THAT." 169 inischiof. W'liat was her motive in coming down to tell you that'/ Just let me know what she said." " She said she hatl deliberately changed mo as an infant for my good, and she proposed to me to continue the fraud, and ollered, if I liked, to swear to Rupert's being her child, so that I might get all the property." "And that she might share iu it!" the sergeant laughed bitterlj% "A bold stroke that of Jane Humphreys. And how did she pretend to recognize you as her child more than the other 1" " She told me that Captain Clinton's child had a tiny mole on his shoulder, and as Eupert has such a mark, that settled the question." "Jane Humphreys told you more than she knew herself. Whether she intended to make the change of babies or not I don't know, but I believe she did; but whether it was done by chance, or whether she purposely mixed them up together, one thing I am certain of, and that is, that she confused herself as well as every one else, and that she did not know which was which. When I came into the room first she was like a woman dazed, and, clever as she was, I am sure she was not putting it on. She had thought, I fancy, that she could easily distinguish one from the other, and had never fancied that she could have been confused as well as other people. She undressed them, and looked them over and over, and it was then she noticed the little mole on the shoulder, and she turned to me and said, 'If I had but noticed this before I should always have told them apart.' " We had a pretty bad time of it afterwards, for it made me the laugh of the whole regiment, and caused no end of talk and worry, and we had frightful rows together. She taunted me with being a fool for not seeing that there was money to be made out of it. She acknowledged to me over and over again that she had intended to change the children, and had dressed them both alike: and when I asked her what good had come 170 SHE DID NOT KNOW. out of her scheming, she said that in the first place we had got rid of the bother of bringing up the boy, and that if I were not a fool we might make a good thing out of it yet. But she was vexed and angry with herself for not having seen this little mark, and for having herself lost all clue as to which was her child. I told her that as she had intended to change them she could have cared nothing for her own boy, and that her only object could have been to make money. " She did not deny it, but simply jeered at me for being con- tent to remain all my life a non-commissioned officer when there might be a fortune made out of this. I do not say that if she had been able to tell one child from the other she would have told me, for if she had I should certainly have gone to Captain Clinton and told him ; but she did not know. A woman can act well, but she cannot make herself as white as a sheet and put such a wild look into her eyes as she had when I found her turning those children over and over, and trying to make out which was which. I could take the Bible in my hand and swear in court that Jane Humphreys knew no more than I did which was her child, that she had never noticed the mark until after the change was made, and that to this day she does not know. " One of the points we quarrelled on was that I made her start for the captain's quarters in such a hurry. She after- wards said that when it first came across her that she did not know which child was which, her blood seemed to go up into her head, and she lost her power of judgment altogether. She said over and over again that if I hadn't hurried her so, and had let matters be for a day or two, so that she could have slept on it and had looked at them quiet, she would have known which was her child. So that is how it is, lad. You may be Jane Humphreys' child and mine, or you may be Cap- tain Clinton's, but no living soul can decide which. As to Jane Humphreys, she is a liar and a thorough bad un, and if it is only on her word that you have run away you have made a "THAT IS MY I'RESKNT IDKA." 171 had niistako of it. Still it is not too late, tt) put that liylit. My word is as good as hers; and as slie swore before she did not know which was which, her swearing now that she does, after all these years, will go for nothing at all." Edgar was silent for some time, then he said, " I have thought a gootl many times since I ran away that I was wrong in not ■waiting to hear what Captain Clinton said. But I had no reason to doubt the story she told me, and when she proposed that I should go on with this fraud and cheat Rupert out of his position as heir, it was too horrible, and the thought that such a woman was my mother was altogether too much to bear. I will not make such a mistake again, or act in a hurry. My present thought is that as I have chosen my way I will go on in it. Before, Captain Clinton and his wife did not know which was their child and loved us both equally, now that they beUeve that Eupert is their son and that I was a fraud, they will have come to give him all their love, and I am not going to unsettle things again. That is my present idea, and I do not think that I am likely to change it. " I shall be glad to know that I need not consider myself that woman's child, though it would not grieve me, now that I know you, to be sure that you were my father. But Captain Clinton and his wife were a father and mother to me up to the day Avhen I ran away, and I could never think of anyone else in that light." " Quite natural, quite natural, lad ! You have never seen me or heard of me, and it would be a rum thing if you could all of a sudden come to care a lot about me. I know that you may be my son, but I don't know that at present 1 like you any the more for that than I did before. So we are quite of one mind over that. But we will be friends, lad, stout friends!" " That we will," Edgar said, clasping warmly the hand the other held out to him. " You have been very kind to me up to now, and now that at any rate we may be father and son we shall be drawn very close together. When this campaign is 172 "IF WE HAD BUT EDGAR HERE." over it will be time to talk again about the future. I do not think now that I am at all likely to change my mind, or to let the Clintons know what you have told me; but I need not trouble about it in any way until then. I was contented be- fore, and I am contented now. If I have made a fool of myself, as I think I have, I must pay the penalty, I have much to be thankful for. I had a very happy time of it until the day I left Cheltenham. I have had a good education, and I have a first-rate chance of making my way up. I have made friends of some of the officers of my regiment, and they have promised to push me on. I had the luck to attract the colonel's attention at El-Teb, and was among the names sent in for the Victoria Cross; and although I did not get it, the fact that I was re- commended will count in my favour." " You are the right stuff, lad," the sergeant said, putting his hand on his shoulder, " whether I or the captain was your father. I reckon that it was he — I don't see where you can have got what there is in you from our side. And now it is time to be going back to camp. Who would have thought, when we strolled out together, that so much was to come out of our walk?" While this conversation had been going on, Rupert Clinton and his two old school-fellows were sitting on the ground in the tent which Easton shared with another of General Stewart's aides-de-camp. "The scene has changed," Easton said as he handed them each a tumbler of weak rum and water, " otherwise one might imagine that we were in my study at Eiver-Smith's, and that Skinner was about to lay down the law about the next football match." "Ah! if we had but Edgar here!" Rupert sighed. " I did not like to ask whether you had found him, Clinton; but I guessed you had not by your keeping silence." "No, we have heard nothing of him beyond the fact that we have occasionally a letter saying that he is well and comfort- "THAT IS WHAT I HorK." 17^ able. Tlicy -wove all posted in London, but I still bclicvo that he is in the army. My father is as convinced as ever that the statement of that woman I told you of was a false one, and that Kdi^ar is just as likely to be his son as I am. I know I would gladly give up my share of the heirship to find him. However, unless 1 run against him by pure chance I am not likely to do that. We still put in advertisements occasionally, but my people at home are as convinced as 1 am that we shall not iioar from him until he has made his way in some line or other, and he is in an independent position." "He always Avas a sticker," Skinner said, "and if he took a thing in hand would carry it through. You remember his rush in our last match with C4reen's, how he carried the ball right down through them all. I should not worry about it, Clinton; it will all come right in time. He will turn up some day or other; and when he finds that matters are just as they were before, and that your people believe him to be just as likely to be their son as you are, he will fall into his old place again — at least that is my opinion of it." "Yes, that is what I hope and believe," Rupert said. "Well, Easton, how do you like the Guards, and how do you like campaigning? I see that you have given up white shirts, like the rest of us. I rather expected that if we did meet I should find that, in some miraculous way, you still contrived to get up immaculately.'' Easton laughed. " No, I left my last white shirt at Cairo, Clinton. I consulted my soldier-servant about it. He was ready to guarantee the washing, but he did not see his way to starching and ironing; so I had to give them up and take to flannels. They were aAvful at first, and irritated my skin until they brought on prickly heat, and I was almost out of my mind for a few days. However, I have got over it now. What made you go into the Marines, Skinner?" "Well, just before the exam, came off an uncle of mine, who is a great friend of the first lord, wrote to say that he could 174 THE LATEST NEWS. get me a commission. Well, in the first place I did not feel very sure of passing for the line; in the second place I had a liking for the sea; and in the third place, as my governor's living is not a very large one and I have a lot of sisters, and I thought I had had more than my share already m being sent to Cheltenham — and one can live a good deal cheaper in the Marines than in the line — I concluded the best thing I could do was to accept the offer; and I have not been sorry that 1 did it. It was awful luck my coming out in the Naval Brigade here; it was just a fluke. The man who was going was chucked off a horse and broke his arm the day before the brigade sailed from Suakim, and I was sent up in his place. Well, what is the last news, Clinton? You ought to know, as you are on the staff." "They don't intrust aides-de-camp with their secrets," Rupert replied; "but I think it likely there will be a move in a day or two, and that the Camel Corps will push across to Metemmeh and wait there till the boats get round.'' "Yes, that is what every one is talking about," Easton said. "The question that is agitating us is whether all the Camel Corps will go; and if not, which will be chosen 1" "Ah, that I know nothing about, Easton; but I should think if any go, the Guards would be sure to be in it. But whether the Heavies or the Lights will go, if only two are chosen, I cannot say. I should fancy one will go with the boats any- how, so as to keep along parallel with them and protect them against any sudden attack while they are afloat." " Will the chief go on, do you think?" "Not if only a small body cross the desert. At least I should think not. I should say he would stay here until Metemmeh is occupied and the boat column is well on its way, and that then he will go on to Metemmeh, and take the com- mand there when the whole force is assembled. In that case Stewart would of course command the desert column, and I should be all right." THAT IS AIAVAYR A NUISANCE. 175 "Tlie great question is, will the beggars fight?" Skinner remarked; "and if so, where?" " They are sure to fight," Easton said. " I don't think there is the least doubt about that, but I should not think there will be any fighting this side of Metemmeh; it will be some- where between that and Khartoum. The Mahdi cannot help fighting after smashing up Hicks and giving himself out as invincilile. He would lose his hold altogether of the people if he did not come down and fight. Uf course there is no doubt aliout the result; but, judging from the way those fellows fought down by the Red Sea, it is likely to be pretty tough work. I shall be sorry for the poor beggars with their spears against our breech-loaders, but it has got to be done." Skinner and Eupert both laughed, for Easton spoke exactly as he used to do with regard to football. " It will be a nuisance your having to exert yourself, won't it, Easton?" "i'es, that is always a nuisance, and in a climate like this!" Easton said seriously. " Why nature made a place so hot, I cannot make out. I am sure if I were to be weighed I should find I had lost nearly a stone since I came out." "You have quite enough flesh on you," Skinner said critically. " If you have lost a stone you must have been getting beastly fat. You fellows in the Guards do not take enough exercise. The time was when the Guards used to row and had a very good eight, but they never do that sort of thing now. It would do you all a lot of good if, instead of wandering between Lon- don and Windsor and Dublin, you were to take your turn for foreign service." "But then we should not be Guards, Skinner." "Well, you would be none the worse for that," Skinner retorted. "He is just as bad as he used to be, Clinton," Easton laughed; " just the same aggressive, pugnacious beggar that he was at River-Smith's." 176 "don't talk about it." "He means well, Easton. We never expected more than that from him. He must make himself fearfully obnoxious to the fellows who have the misfortune to be shut up on board ship with him." " I shall make myself obnoxious to you, Clinton, if you don't look out. It is only the heat that protects you. Have you met any others of our fellows out here^" "iSTot from our house, but I know there are seven or eight fellows of about our own standing out here altogether." "If we are up here in the cold weather," Skinner said, " that is, if there ever is any cold weather, we will get a foot- ball made and challenge a team from any other school." "Don't talk about it," Easton said plaintively. "It throws me into a perspiration even to think about it. The dust would be something awful. Possibly if we are up here through the winter, or through the period they are pleased to call winter, we might get up cricket; but as for football, it is out of the question. Of course if we were stationed at Dongola, or Berber, or Khartoum, we could get the bats and stumps and things sent up to us. It would be fun if it were only to see how these lazy, squatting beggars would stare when they saw us at it." "But you were never enthusiastic about cricket." " No. But then, you see, I do not propose to play on our side. My idea is that I should sit down on the sands in the shade of the scrub and smoke my pipe quietly. That is the oriental idea of taking exercise; pay somebody to dance for you, and sit and watch them, but do not think of attempting to take a hand yourself. It would be fatal to any respect these Egyp- tians may feel for us if they were to see us rushing about the sand like maniacs in pursuit of a ball. However, though I should not play myself, I should take a lively interest, Skinner, in seeing you and Clinton working hard. But I must be going, it is near time for us to parade. Come across to my tent at nine o'clock this evening. 1 cannot ask you to dinner — that must be deferred until we get home again — but we can smoke 'THE DIE IS (!AST." 177 ;i i)ipi> .111(1 talk over old dnj's; and I ran t:;ivo j'ou a t^^lass of good Idandy and water, which is a change from the coiuniis- sariat ruin. 1 managed to smuggle up half a dozen bottles." Mdgar Avas much disturbed by the story he had heard so uiie.\i)LH>tcdly from the sergeant. He regretted now that he had acted t^o hastily. Certainly the story put a completely new com})loxioii on the case, and his chance of being Captain Clin- ton's son was just the same as it had ever been. He wondered ^vhotllcr his father and mother— for so in his thoughts he always named them — had doubted the truth of this woman's statement to him, or whether they had believed it as he had (lone, and had put him out of their hearts as one with whom the}' had nothing to do, and who had been already too long imposed upon them. But he felt that this was an unjust view, and that however they might now be confident that Eupert was their son and heir they still cherished an affection towards him. " However," he said, " this will make no difierence to me. The die is cast, and I cannot go back now. Still I shall be happier than I was before. Then I considered that I had been an impostor who had received affection and care and kind- ness to which I had no shadow of right. Now I know that this is not so, and that it is just as likely that I am their son as it is that Rupert is; and I stay away for my own choice, and because, having made them believe that Rupert was their son, T am not going to disturb and make them unhappy again by showing them that this was a mistake, and that everything is as unsettled as before. " I told them that they would never hear of me until I had made my own way, and I shall stick to that. Who would have thought of meeting Rupert here? It has been a great piece of luck for him getting out here as General Stewart's aide-de-camp, but I know the general is a friend of my father, and that accounts for it. Perhaps this sei-geant is my father. I did not seem to mind the thought before. I did not even know whether he Avas alive, and never really faced it; and yet, (650) M 178 "IT DOES GO AGAINST THE GRAIN." if Sergeant Bowen is to be my father, he is as good as another. He seems a fine fellow, and has had no hand in this fraud. I ought, indeed, to think myself lucky; for he is steady and respectable, a good soldier, and I can see liked by the officers as well as the men. It was curious that he should have taken a fancy to me. " Still it does go against the grain, though I can see he has no intention of claiming me openly as his son. If he had, I think I should have kicked against it; but as it is, I am sure we shall be very good friends." After drill was over next morning, and the camels had been seen to and the men dismissed. Sergeant Bowen came up to him — "Let us take another turn together, lad. I have been thinking a lot," he went on when they were beyond the lines, " of our talk yesterday. Now, lad, you have been brought up as a gentleman, and to consider yourself as Captain Clinton's son; remember, I don't want you to think that I expect you to make any change about that. I have done nothing for you as a father; and whether I am your father or not you do not owe me anything, and I want to tell you again that I don't expect in the least that because it is possible you are my son you should regard me in the light of your father. "I can understand that after all your life looking at the captain as your father, and after he and his wiie being every- thing to you, you would find it mighty hard to regard me in that way. I don't expect it, and I don't want it. If he is not your father by blood, he is your father in right of bringing you up and caring for you and educating you, and it is quite right and quite proper that you should always regard him so. You can look upon me, lad, just as a foster-father — as the hus- band of the woman who was for a time your nurse, and who would gladly repair the wrongs he did to you. I just say this, lad, to make things straight between us. I want us to be friends. I am an old soldier, and you a young one. We are THE BARGAIN WAR SEALED. 179 comrades in this expedition. Wo have taken to each other, and would do each other a good turn if we had a chance. I don't want more tlian that, lad, and I don't expect you to give more. If I can lend you a helping hand on or off duty, you know I shall do so. So let us shake hands on it, and agree to let the matter drop altogether until this campaign is over. Then we will talk over together what had best be done. A few months longer of this life will do you no harm, and you will make all the better officer for having had two or three years in the raidvs. But I will say at once that I think that you are wrong, now you know how the matter stands, in not writing at once to the captain and letting him know the truth. Still there is no harm in its standing over for the present. You must go through the expedition as you are now, and they would be no easier for knoAving that you are exposed to danger out here than they are at present when they know nothing of your wherealiouts." Edgar shook the sergeant heartily by the hand, and the bargain was sealed. Every day troops kept on arriving, and by the 27th of December there were already at Korti a considerable portion of the Sussex, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, the Essex, Gordon Highlanders, Black Watch, and Staffordshire, all of whom had come up in the whale-boats; a large number of the commissariat, transport, hospital, and engineer train in native boats; the whole of the Guards' Camel Corps, and the greater portion of the Heavy and Light Camel Corps, a hundred men of the Marines, who were provided with camels, and ap- pointed to form part of the Guards' Camel Corps, two sc^uad- rons of the 19th Hussars, and the Mounted Infantry. In the few days that had passed since the troops to which Edgar was attached had arrived at Korti the change in the appearance of the place was great. The grove of palm-trees still stood near the bend of the river, but the green fields of grass and the broad patches of growing crops had been 180 "ONLY WHAT WE CAN CARRY." either levelled or trampled down, a«d the neighbourhood of the camp presented the appearance of the sandy wastes of Aldershot. On the evening of that day Skinner rushed into Easton's tent. " I have just seen Clinton," he said, " and the rumours are going to be fulfilled at last. They did not inspect our water- skins, arms, and accoutrements for nothing to-day, We are to start on the 30th across the desert. There is no secret about it, or of course Clinton wouldn't have told me. There are to be our regiment, a squadron of Hussars, the Mounted Infantry, and Engineers. We are to take with us baggage-camels and the camels of the heavy and light regiments. We are going to Gakdul, about a hundred miles off. There all the stores are to be left, and the camels and Mounted Infantry to come back here. We are to remain to guard the stores. As soon as the camels return here, the Heavies are to take their own beasts, and, with the Mounted Infantry, escort every baggage animal that can be got up here, when we shall all go on together. Sir Herbert Stewart commands." "What about baggage?" Easton asked, after expressing his deep satisfaction that the advance was about to begin. " Only what we can carry ourselves on our camels, and the weight is limited to forty pounds, which is abundant even for sybarites like you guardsmen. A quarter of that would be amply sufficient for me. A couple of blankets, a waterproof sheet, half a dozen flannel shirts, ditto socks, pair of slippers, and a spare karkee suit; sponge, tooth-brush, and a comb. What can anyone want more? " "I should like to take my waterproof bath," Easton said. " Pooh ! nonsense, man ! Where are you going to get your water from ? " " There is water at Gakdul, and there will be plenty when we get to Metemmeh," Easton said. "Well, I will grant that," Skinner said; "but anyhow you IHK DESKRT COLUMN. 181 can iiuuuii^c very ■well as we do. Make a hole in tlic sand and put your waterproof sheet into it, and there you have got as good a bath as anyone can want. What is the use of lumber- ing yourself up witli things you do not want? Much better take those three bottles of braiady you have got left and a couple of pounds of tobacco. That is the utmost allowance I should give. The camels will have to go a long time without water, and the less you put on their backs the better. You know what a difl'erence a few pounds makes to a horse; and I suppose it must be the same thing with them." At three o'clock on the afternoon of the 30th the force intended for the desert march paraded, and after marching past Lord Wolseley moved off in solid formation, thirty camels abreast. The total force consisted of 73 officers, 1212 men and* natives, and 2091 camels. The whole camp had turned out to see the departure of the column, and Edgar, with his helmet pressed down low over his eyes, watched Eupert as he rode after Sir Herbert Stewart, and Easton and Skinner with the Guards Camel Corps. The Heavies had been much disappointed at not forming part of the first advance, and especially at their camels being taken for baggage animals, but they consoled themselves by the fact that the native spies all reported that there were no bodies of the enemy between Korti and Gakdul, and it was not likely therefore that there would be any fighting until the whole force moved forward together from Gakdul to ]\Ietemmeh. In front of the column were half a dozen natives on camels. These acted as the guides of the party. They had been ex- tremely unwihing to go, and it was only when the general offered them the alternative of going willingly and receiving good pay for their work, or being lashed to their camels and forced to go without any pay whatever, that they elected the first. The Hussars scouted in front of the column, riding far ahead and scouring the country in search of lurking foes. Two hours after starting there was a halt, fires were lighted from 182 A NIGHT MARCH. the dry grass and mimosa bushes, and tea was made and served out. By this time it was five o'clock, and the sun had set. In an hour or two the moon, which was nearly full, rose, and afforded ample light for the journey. For a time the silence of the desert was broken by the laughter and talk of the men, but as the time went on the sounds were hushed as sleepiness fell upon them. Short halts were of frequent occurrence, as the baggage animals in the rear lagged behind, or their loads slipped, and had to be re- adjusted. Then a trumpet was sounded by the rear-guard, and it was repeated by the trumpeters along the column, and all came to a halt until the trumpet in the rear told that the camels there were ready to advance again. So the march continued throughout the whole night. The ground was of hard sand or gravel, with round smooth hills of dark stone rising from it. Near the hills the ground was covered with low mimosa bushes and long yellow grass, and in some places the mimosa trees rose to a length of ten or twelve feet. At five o'clock day broke, and at half-past eight the column halted at a spot where there were a good many trees. Here they dismounted, breakfasted, and slept for some hours. At three in the afternoon they started again, and at half -past eight arrived at the first wells, those of Hambok; but as they were found to contain very little water, the march was continued to the El Howeiyat Wells, thirteen miles further. Before they got there the watches told that midnight had ar- rived, and the commencement of the new year was hailed with a burst of cheering, and singing broke out all along the line, and was continued for an hour, until they reached the wells. There was but little water here, but the men carried theirs in skins. The horses of the 19th Hussars received a bucketful apiece, which exhausted the supply of the wells. At six o'clock in the morning they again advanced, and after a rest of three hours at mid -day continued their way until midnight, when a light being seen at a distance the column was halted, AT CAKDUL. 183 uiul the Hussars went out and captured a caravan loaded with dates for tlie use of the Mahdi troops. It was not until eight o'clock in the morning that the weary troops and animals reached the wells of Gakdul. CHAPTER XL ALU KLEA WHERE on earth are the wells?" Sldnner said to the officer who was riding next to him; and a similar question was asked by scores of others. They had advanced through a narrow pass, and were now in a small Hat surrounded apparently on all sides by hills. However, as Major Kitchener, the head of the intelligence department, and the native guides were there, every one supposed it was all right, and set to work to unload the camels. It was not such easy work as usual, for the ground was strewn with large stones, upon which the camels objected strongly to kneel. For a time there was a prodigious din — the camels grumbling and com- plaining, the natives screaming, the soldiers laughing, shouting, and using strong language. At last the loads were all oft', the stores piled, and the din quieted down. "Where on earth is this water. Skinner?" Easton asked as the two young officers met after the work was done. " I cannot make out, Easton. I hope it is not fai^, for my water-skin has leaked itself empty and my throat is like a furnace." "I have some water in mine," Easton said, "but it tastes of leather so strongly that it is next to undrinkable. Oh, here is Clinton. Where is the water, Clinton?" "By that rock at the end of the valley. I am just going to have a look at it. Can you come?" 184 THE WELLS. " Yes; there is nothing to do here at present." They hurried towards the rock that Clinton pointed out, and when they reached it they still saw no signs of water, but on going round it burst into a shout of delight. Before them lay a pool some sixty feet wide by a hundred long. The rocks rose precipitously on each side; it was evident that the water was deep. " There are two more pools further up," an officer who had got there before them said. "Let us climb up and have a look," Clinton said; and with some difficulty they climbed up to the top of the rock. Going along for some little distance they looked down. Eighty feet below them lay two beautiful pools. They were evidently very deep, for at the edge the water was green, but nearly black in the centre of the pools. "This is something like," Skinner said. "There is no fear of running short of water. Come on, let us clamber down and get a drink. Look there, at the rows of camels coming along to the lower pool. I suppose that will be kept for them, and that we shall get our water from these." With a good deal of difficulty they got down, but were un- able to reach the edge. However they tied a string round one of their water-bottles, and soon brought it up full. The water was deliciously clear and cool, the high rock completely shelter- ing the pools from the heat of the sun. They indulged in several long draughts before their thirst was satisfied. "I shall never say anything against water again," Skinner remarked. " I have always allowed its utility for washing pur- poses, but have considered it a distinct failure as a drink. I recant. While considei'ing that at home beer is good enough for me, I am prepared to maintain that, in the middle of the Bayuda Desert, clear cold water and plenty of it is good enough for anyone. But how in the world are we going to get at this water? Oh, here come the Engineers; they are going to do it somehow." FORTIFYINl). 185 A party of Engineers urrivod with some pumps and a huiulred yards of hose. " How are you going to take it down ?" "We are going to lead the hose right through the lower pool, letting it lie at the bottom. That is the only way we can do it. There is no way of fixing it against that wall of rocks." The })umi)S were fixed in a very short time and the hose laid, and in less than an hour the stream of pure water was being })oured into a large trough placed near the lower pool, and from this the cooks of the various companies filled their kettles and boilers. Some of the men, in spite of their long and fatiguing jour- ney, had followed the example of the young officers and filled their water-bottles as they had done, but the majority had thrown themselves on the ground and were fast asleep a few minutes after the work of unloading the camels had been completed. For hours the work of watering the camels went on, slowl}^ at first, as only a few could drink at a time, but more rapidly when large troughs were erected, at which thirty could be watered at once. As soon as dinner was over the Guards set to work to erect two forts that the Engineers had already marked out. One of these was at the mouth of the pass leading into the little valley, the other was placed just above the pools. The baggage was piled close to the wells. By evening the work was well advanced, and at eight o'clock the Mounted Infantry and the whole of the camels started on their return journey, leaving the Guards, with fifteen Engineers and six Hussars, to hold the wells and guard the great pile of stores that had been brought up. As soon as work was over there was a general movement to the wells, and there were few who did not indulge in the luxury of a bathe in the lower pool. liupert Clinton returned with the column to Korti, as General Stewart went back with them to bring out the main body of 186 HEAVY WORK. troops. It was calculated that ten days must elapse before these would arrive at Gakdul, and the Guards and Marines set to work in earnest the next morning to get things into order. The work was very heavy, but as the men had plenty to eat and no lack of excellent water they did not mind it, congratulat- ing themselves heartily upon the fact that they had not to make the long and wearisome journey to Korti and back. In the course of the ten days the walls of the forts rose to a height of over five feet — a very laborious piece of work, for one fort measured twenty yards by twenty-three : the other thirty yards by fifteen, and the stones had all to be picked up and carried considerable distances, or loosened out of the solid rock by aid of the six pickaxes and four crowbars that were alone available. In addition to this the site of a camp was marked out, roads were formed by clearing away the stones, and paths made up to the forts and picket stations. The outpost duty was very severe, two officers and sixty-five men being always on duty, as it was possible that at any time, night or day, an attack might be made. " This is awful ! " Easton said to Skinner, as, sitting down on the ground, he mournfully contemplated his boots; "these boots that I relied upon to last me through the campaign are hope- lessly done for." "They do look bad," Skinner agreed, "but no worse than mine, or in fact than any one else's. These rocks are awful. If Nature had scattered ten million knives broadcast about this valley they could not have been more destructive to boots than these rocks. I used to think that, although the camels were well enough for taking up the baggage or as a means of conveyance for men, they were a mistake, and that it would be much pleasanter to march than to sit upon these wearisome beasts; but my opinion has been changed by our experience here. If we had to march many miles over such a country as this the whole force would be barefooted. I had a frightful job of it EASTON's COMl'LAINT. 187 last ni-lit. I went tlie rounds with tlic ficld-otlicci', and how it was 1 di(hi't l)reak my neck I cannot imagine. I had a dozen tremendous croppers down the rocks. The lantern Avcnt out the first time, and gut smashed tlie second. The major seemed to think that it was my duty to have kept it alight whatever happened to myself, and was as savage as a hear. We lost our way a dozen times, and once came up to a picket on the wrong side, and deuced near got potted." " I know all about it," Easton said. " I did it three nights ago, and have no skin at present on my knees or my elbows or my hips, and mighty little on my back. I went down one l)lace fifty or sixty feet deep head-foi'emost, bumping from rock to rock, and it flashed through my mind as I did so what an ass I was to be going through all this when I might be com- fortably in bed at home. They don't tell one of these things," he said plaintively, " when they talk of the advantages of the army." "Bosh!" Skinner said wrathfully. "I don't suppose you were a bit more hurt than you would be in a good close rally at football. It is a thousand times better after all than moon- ing about Windsor, or being mewed on board a ship at Suakim. However, I shall be precious glad when the others arrive, and Ave have done with this fatigue work. The men's hands are pretty well cut to pieces getting up and carrying those sharp rocks, and I am heartily tired of acting as a sort of amateur mason, " On the 11th of January a convoy of a thousand camels with stores and ammunition arrived, and the next day the troops were delighted at seeing the main body approaching. In addi- tion to the Mounted Infantry and Heavy Camel Corps, 400 men of the Sussex Regiment came up on the camels. They were intended to garrison the forts and protect the wells when the rest of the force moved forward, but a hundred of them were to go forward with the troops. With the new-comers were 30 sailors M'ith a Gardner gun, 30 men of the Royal Artillery 188 OVERWORKED AND UNDERFED. with three 7-pounder guns, 45 of the Medical and Commissariat Staff, and 120 native drivers for the baggage camels. As the Heavy Camel Eegiment numbered 380 and the Guards 367, the Mounted Infantry 360, and there were 90 men of the 19th Hussars and 100 of the Sussex, the total force which was to advance was about 1500 men, 90 horses, and 2200 camels. All the men with the exception of the natives, who were on foot, were mounted on camels, the Hussars of course excepted, as they rode sturdy little Egyptian horses, which, although little larger than ponies, were capable of enduring an amount of fatigue, hardship, and privation, that would in the course of a few days have rendered English horses useless. Those who had left Gakdul but ten days before were aston- ished at the change which the labours of the Guards' Camel Corps had effected in it, and great commendation was given them by the general for the zeal with which they had worked. Large as was the number of animals to be watered, the work was conducted with far greater speed and ease than had been the case on their former arrival. The arrangements were all excellent, and in a comparatively short time the whole were watered and fed. The troops, however, were dismayed at the change which had come over the camels. These animals are capable of enduring great fatigue and scarcity of water and food, but the authorities had acted as if there were no limits what- ever to those powers, and for a fortnight the camels had been kept at work with only three or four hours' rest out of each twenty-four, with a very scanty supply of food, and a sufficient allowance of water but twice, namely, at Gakdul and Korti. The natural result had followed ; the animals were weak and exhausted, the majority were suffering from sore backs, some had already succumbed, others were absolutely incapable of further work until they had had a rest. In this respect none of the three corps had any advantage over the other, as the camels had all performed the three journeys. " If we are only going to Metemmeh, and are to halt there NKJIIT MAltCIIKS A IMISTAKK. 189 until the bouts come rouiul, t-Iic poor Ix'.ists will have time to locovcr before wo want them .\^ain," Easton said to Skinner as they were looking ruefully at the condition of the camels who had carried them so well ten days before; "but they certainly won't be fit to advance for some time. I am afraid, Skinner, tliat they must have very bad news from Khartoum, and that every day is of extreme importance. If the matter hadn't been most urgent they Avould never have ruined the whole of our transport as they have done in this way. If the camels had had a couple of days' rest here before starting to go back again, and four or five days' good feeding at Korti before they started up again, it would have made all the diflerence in the world to them. A camel is not a steam-engine, that can take in fuel and water and be off again an hour after it comes in from a journey." " I don't like these night marches," Skinner said. " I consider them to be a mistake altogether." " So do I, Skinner. It was bad enough when we had the moon, but it will be ten times worse now. As to the heat, that is all rot. We travelled in the daytime coming up by the banks of the Nile, and it is cooler now than it was then. It is all veiy well for men to march at night if they have no animals or baggage-train with them, but it is a different thing altogether on such an expedition as this. To begin with, the delays from falling behind and readjusting baggage are far greater at night than at day; there is much greater difficulty in keeping the column together; the men are in a state of drowsiness the whole time, if they were marching they would keep awake, but sitting on the camels there is nothing to rouse them. Then when they get in camp the heat of the day has just begun, and what with that and the flies it is next to impossible to sleep. What sleep they get does not refresh them. I cjuite dread this march on to Metemmeh. However, it has got to be done; but certainly I should not mind it half so much if we were going to travel by dayhght." 190 FORWARD. It was soon known that there was to be no delay at Gakdul, and orders were issued that the start was to be made on the 13th; the intervening day being devoted to seeing to the arms and ammunition, issuing stores, and replenishing the water supply. The water-skins were extremely defective, leaking freely, the only exception being the india-rubber bags with which the sailors had been supplied. Every effort was made during the halt to sew up holes and stop leaks, but with poor success. Each man carried on his camel one of these skins in addition to his water-bottle. Strict orders were given that upon the march he was to rely upon the latter alone; the supply in the skins being for general purposes, such as cooking and making tea. During the halt Edgar applied himself steadily to the work of repairing the water-skins. The camp of the Heavies joined that of the Guards, and he felt that his danger of being recog- nized by Easton or Skinner was great; but sitting Avith a gi'oup of others sewing, with his face shaded by his helmet, the risk was very much less than if standing up or moving about the camp. At two o'clock in the afternoon the force paraded and moved off in columns of companies. The Heavy Camel Corps led, the Guards followed, the baggage and stores were in the centre, and the Mounted Infantry in the rear. Many of the camels had to be left behind, and those that remained were only sufficient to carry the absolutely necessary stores, the rations for the men, and a quantity of corn that would suffice but to give two feeds of eight pounds each to the animals, who were, therefore, obliged to depend almost entirely on such sustenance as they could pluck from the mimosa shrubs and the dry yellow grass. The men carried a hundred and seventy rounds each. There were a hundred rounds per gun for the artillery, but only a thousand rounds were brought for the Gardner gun, a quantity sufficient but for five minutes' work when in action. The journey was over a gravelly plain, and the halt was TROUBLE WITH THE RAOOAOE. 191 made at six o'clock in the evening. Fires wore lit of the slirulxs and dry grass; the camels were unloaded and fed, and were ranged in such order tliat in case of attack the troops could form siiuare at the angles of the mass, and thus suijport each other and protect the convoy. At three in the morning the trumpets and bugles sounded. The fires were soon blazing again, and at half-past four break- fast had been eaten, the camels loaded, and the column on its march again. At ten o'clock there was a halt for two hours for dinner and a short rest; and it was not until just as they were going to start that the rear-guard arrived, having been de- layed by the breaking down of numbers of the camels, many of which had fallen dead as they walked, while others inca- pable of movement had to be left behind to take their chance of recovering sufficiently to browse upon the bushes and make their way back to the wells. As the loads of those that fell had to be distributed among their already exhausted companions the prospect was far from cheerful. Starting at twelve, the column passed a conical hill known as Gebel El Nur an hour later, and entered a broad valley covered with grass and trees twenty feet high, and where, doubtless, water could be obtained had the force been provided with little Abyssinian pumps. At five o'clock the column halted, and as the ground was sandy passed a more comfortable night than the one before. Every one was in good spirits. The men found the journeys by day far less fatiguing than those at night, and were able to obtain refreshing sleep in the cool night air. Before daybreak they again started over a gravelly plain, hop- ing to reach the wells of Abu Klea that evening. They halted at eleven in a valley flanked by hills. The track, according to the maps, lay over a steep hill in front and then along a pass between two hills, the wells lying some three miles beyond the pass. Dinner was cooked, and as soon as they had finished their meal the Hussars started for the wells, as their horses had had no water since leavins; Gakdul. The rest of the force were 192 THE FOE IN SIGHT. stretched vipon the ground taking it quietly when two of the Husscars returned at full gallop with a message to the general, and the order was immediately issued for the men to fall in and for the officers to examine their arms and ammunition. Then the news spread through the force that the enemy had been discovered in large numbers upon the hill, and were evidently prepared to bar the way to the wells. The change effected by the news was wonderful. It had been generally supposed that Metemmeh would be reached with- out fighting, all the spies agreeing in saying that there was no force of the enemy near the line of march. In a moment fatigue and thirst were forgotten, and the quiet was exchanged for bustle and animation. Men laughed and joked with each other in the highest spirits, and all prepared for the fray with the most absolute confidence as to the result. As the troops fell in the general with his staff galloped ahead to some rising ground, and with their field-glasses reconnoitred the hills surrounding the pass, upon which numbers of white-robed Arabs could be made out. The Hussars speedily reported that there was a considerable force in the pass below. With the fighting men in front and the baggage behind, the troops moved slowly forward up the hill in front, and finally took up their position on a piece of flat ground whence they could see down the pass by which the Arabs expected the advance would be made. On the side of the hills commanding it they had thrown up small stone walls from which to fire. On the hilltops out of range large numbers of Arabs could be seen in constant motion, gesticulating and waving their arms. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and the general decided that as the real force of the enemy was unknown it would be imprudent to attempt to force the passage with only an hour and a half of daylight before him, conse- quently a halt for the night was ordered. A strong detachment of Mounted Infantry and sailors with their Gardner ascended a hill on the other side of the pass and A TRYING NIGHT. 193 set to worlc to build a small fort and mount tho gun there. A conii)any from each of the camel regiments extended to cover the front. The camels were all made to kneel, their legs being lashed at the knee so that they could not rise. This done, the Avhole of the troops were set to work to build a wall. There were, however, but few loose stones lying about, and though otHccrs and men alike worked hard the wall in front was but two feet high when the sun went down. A hedge of thorny bushes and wire was raised to protect the flanks as much as possible. As twilight fell a numlier of the enemy took possession of the top of a hill some twelve hundred yards away on the right and opened fire, to which the three guns of the artillery replied with shrapnel -shell. The guns ceased firing when darkness came on, but the enemy kept up an occasional fire all night. A drink of lime-juice and water was served out to all the men, who then lay down, with their arms in readiness to repel an attack, by the little wall. All night the enemy kept on beating tom-toms and occasionally yelling, approaching at times comparatively close to the position. Knowing, how- ever, that the sentries were out in front, the men for the most part slept quietly in spite of the noise and firing. As the Arabs could fire only at random but two men were hit during the night. In the morning it was found that the number of the enemy on the hilltops had largely increased during the night, and the bullets now flew incessantly round and over the inclosure. Lying under such shelter as the wall afforded, the men eat their breakfast of the tinned meat and biscuits they carried in their haversacks. "I must admit. Skinner," Easton said to his comrade, who had come across from his own company to have a chat with him, "that this is more unpleasant than I had expected. This lying here listening to the angry hiss of the bullets is certainly trying; at least I own that I feel it so." " It is nasty," Skinner agreed. " I shan't mind it as soon as ( ti5U ) N 194 HOT WORK. we go at the beggars, but this doing nothing is, as you say, trying. I wish they would make up their minds and come out to us, or if they cannot get up their pluck enough to do it, that we should sally out and attack them." " You may be sure we shall before long. Skinner. They know well enough that we cannot stop here, but must move on to the water sooner or later; and knowing that, they would be fools if they were to give up their strong position to attack us here. At any rate I would rather be lying behind this wall than moving about as the general and his staff' are doing. Major Dickson has just been shot through the knee, I hear. There! Look ! there is another officer down. I wonder who he is. I do hope they won't pot Clinton." A few minutes later an officer passing by told them that Major Gough of the Mounted Infantry had been knocked sense- less by a bullet which had grazed his forehead, and that an officer of the artillery had been hit in the back. "What do you think of it, sergeant]" Edgar asked, as he and Sergeant Bowen were eating their breakfast together under shelter of the wall. "I think that it is going to be a hot job, lad. If they had attacked us out in the plain we should have made short work of them, but it is a different thing altogether among these hills. The beggars can run three feet to our one, and if we were to climb one of these hills to attack them, they would be on the top of the next before we got there. I see nothing for it but to move straight for the Avells, and let them do their worst as we go. It would be all right if we hadn't this tre- mendous train of camels; but if they come pouring down while we are on the march we shall have difficulty in protecting them all." " I wish Rupert were lying here with us," Edgar said, look- ing anxiously at his brother, whose figure he could perceive among those near the general. " It is horrid lying here in safety while he is exposed to their bullets." THE SQUARE ADVANCES. 195 "We numt all take our chances," the sergeant said. "Maybe presently you will be in more danger than he is." Half an hour later orders were issued that the men were to prepare for action, and it became known among the officers that the general had determined to leave a small garrison to i)rotect the baggage and camels in the zareba, and to push forward with the rest of the force and capture the wells, and then send back and fetch in the camels and baggage. But the movement was delayed until ten o'clock in hopes that the enemy would attack. As they did not do so, orders were given, and the square formed up. The Guards' Camel Corps formed half the front of the square, and the right flank. The Mounted Infantry filled up the other half of the front, and half the left Hank. The rest of the left flank and the rear were formed by the Heavy Camel Corps and the Naval Brigade; the hundred men of the Sussex taking the right rear corner between them and the Guards, while the Naval Brigade with their Gardner gun were in the centre of the rear line, between the troop of the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards and that of the 1st and 2d Life Guards and Blues. In the centre behind the fighting line were two guns of the Royal Artillery, the other having been left in the zareba, while the centre of the square was filled with camels carrying water, ammunition, and cacolets or swinging beds for the carriage of the wounded. The instant the square was formed and moved out the fire of the enemy redoubled. Swarms of natives appeared on the top of the hills, moving parallel with the advance of the square. The march was taken in slow time to allow the guns and camels to keep up. The ground was extremely difficult and broken, deep water-ruts and rocky hillocks having to be crossed, and the whole very undulating and broken. Men fell fast, and frequent halts had to be made to enable the doctors to attend to the wounded, and place them in the cacolets. The front face and sides of the square advanced in 196 THE ARAB ATTACK, fair order, but there was much confusion in the rear face, caused by the lagging camels. Skirmishers were thrown out on either side, and these did their best to keep down the fire of the enemy. For an hour the square proceeded, and had nearly emerged from the pass on to the plain beyond, when a number of green and white flags were seen at some distance on the left front. As the firing had principally come from the right, and as it was from that side that an attack was expected, there was considerable curiosity as to the meaning of these seemingly deserted flags; and a small party were about to go out to investigate them, when a great number of other flags suddenly appeared at the same spot, and a moment later a vast mass of Arabs who had been concealed in a gulley sprang to their feet. (See plan on page 138.) They were about five hundred yards distant from the square, which was at the moment halted at the foot of a stony knoll. It was moved at once on to the rising ground, and the skir- mishers were called in. The Arabs with wild yells moved across the left front, disappeared for a minute behind some rocks and high grass, and then reappeared close to the left rear, when they wheeled into line, and with wild yells charged down upon the square. So quick were their movements that the skirmishers had hardly time to reach the square, and one man was overtaken and speared before he reached it. Several of the exhausted camels with their loads of wounded had been left outside, lying down at the foot of the slope when the square moved up it. Their native drivers rushed into shelter, and the wounded would have fallen into the hands of the enemy had not an officer of the Guards' Camel Corps and several privates of the Heavies rushed out, seized the camels, and by main force dragged them into the square. In the square itself there was a din of voices, the officers shouting to the men to stand steady and reserve their fire until the skirmishers, who were between them and the enemy, had run in. The instant they had done this a roar of mus- A r-nOKEN SQUARE. 197 kctiy broke out from the left and rear faces of the square, at first in volleys, then in independent fire as fast as the men could load ; but though scores of the enemy fell, their rush was not checked for a moment, and with wild yells they fell upon the left corner of the square. The men were but two deep, and were unable to stand the pressure of the mass of the enemy, and in a moment the rear face of the square was driven in, and a hand-to-hand fight was going on between the soldiers, mixed up with the struggling camels and the Arabs. All order was for a time lost; the voices of the officers were drowned by the din of musketry, the yells of the Arabs, and the shouts of the men. Each man fought for himself; but their bayonets were no match for the long spears of the Arabs, and they were pressed back until the throng of camels pushed hard against the Guards in front of the square. The rear ranks of the Mounted Infantry on the left and the Marines on the right were faced round, and opened a terrible fire into the crowded mass of natives, while the Heavies with bayonets and clubbed muskets fought singly, man to man, with their foes. The combat did not last long. Mowed down by the fire on both flanks the assailants withered away, and it was not long before silence succeeded the terrible din of battle. In the interior of the square the last Arab of those who had pierced the square had fallen, and the fire of the out- side faces of the square had prevented them from receiving any reinforcement from their friends, and these now fell back sullenly before the leaden hail. As soon as they had done so there was time to investigate what had taken place in the centre of the square. A terrible sight presented itself. The ground was strewn with bodies of the natives, mingled with those of men of the corps that had formed the rear face of the square, the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, Naval Brigade, 1st and 2d Life Guards, and the Sussex. Among them lay camels which had been 198 A TERRIBLE SCENE. hamstrung or speared by the natives, broken cacolets, and water tanks and skins, medical stores, and a confusion of articles of all kinds. Although forced back by the sheer weight of the native attack, the Heavies had never been completely broken up. They maintained their resistance to the end, jammed up as they were against and among the camels, and thus enabled the men on the two sides of the square to concentrate their fire on the Arabs. A loud cheer had broken from the square as the enemy retreated, and they were prepared to resist another onslaught; for only a portion of their foes had yet been engaged with them. However, the enemy contented themselves with keeping up a distant fire from the hills, and then, doubtless as the news spread how terrible had been the loss of those who had charged the square, they gradually drew ofi" and all became quiet. The square now moved oft' from the rocky knoll upon which they were crowded, and the work of seeing who had fallen and of assisting the wounded began. No less than nine officers had been killed and nine wounded, the greater portion of them belonging to the Heavy Camel Eegiment. Two officers of the Naval Brigade were also among the killed. Eighty of the rank and file were killed, and upwards of a hundred wounded. Among the whites lay hundreds of dead Arabs, while arms of all sorts — spears, javelins, muskets, clubs, hatchets, swords and knives, banners and barmer-staifs — were everywhere scat- tered thickly. Among the killed were Colonel Burnaby, Majors Gough, Carmichael, and Atherton, Captain Darley, and Lieutenants Law and Wolfe — all belonging to the Heavies. To the survivors of those corps who had formed the rear face of the square, the scene they had gone through seemed a wild and confused dream. Sergeant Bowen and Edgar had been among those who rushed out and hauled in the camels with the wounded just before the Arabs came up. As they got them "STKADY, LAI), STEADY." ID'J inside the ninks the roar of lire broke out and they fell into their i)laces. "Independent firing!" the officer shouted as the first volley had been discharged, but scarcely had the roll of musketry begun than through the smoke a dense mass of black figures appeared. A storm of spears and javelins were poured in upon them, and in an instant there was a crash as club, spear, and sword struck the muskets, and then the Heavies were hurled back. Edgar scarce knew what had happened, but the instant the square was broken Sergeant Eowen threw himself beside him. "Steady, lad, steadj^," he said, "don't throw away a shot; load and stand ready to shoot the first man who falls on you. That is good!" he said as Edgar shot a tall Arab who was rushing at him with uplifted spear; "load again. Now it is my turn," and he brought down a man; and so firing alter- nately, sometimes defending themselves with their bayonets, but always keeping together, they fell back. Once Edgar stumbled and fell over the body of one of his comrades, but the sergeant seized him by the shoulder and jerked him on to his feet again, and the next moment ran an Arab through who was rushing at them with uplifted hatchet. When they were back among the crowd of camels the fighting became more even. Stubbornly the men made a stand here, for the natives could no longer attack them except in front, while the roar of fire from the troops on the flanks told with terrible effect upon the Arabs. "Thank God that is over!" the sergeant said as the fight ended. "Are you badly hurt, lad]" "I am not hurt at all," Edgar said. The sergeant pointed to Edgar's left arm. The latter uttered an exclamation of surprise. He had bayoneted an Arab in the act of striking at him, and in the wild excitement had for the moment been unconscious that the blow of the native had taken effect. It had missed his shoulder, but had cut a deep gash in the arm, almost severing a strip of flesh down to the elbow. 200 "YOU CAN HAVE A DRINK OF WATER." " I had not the least idea I had been touched," he said, " I don't think there is any great harm done; the principal arteries are on the other side of the arm." " We must stop the bleeding, anyhow," the sergeant said. " I will soon find a bandage. There are sure to be plenty about, for the surgeons were at work when they broke in." He was not long in finding one, and then assisting Edgar ofi" with his coat he bandaged up his arm. "You have got a wound on the side, sergeant!" Edgar exclaimed suddenly. "It is of no consequence, lad. A fellow threw a spear at me. I tried to dodge it, but was not quite quick enough, and it has grazed my side." " It is more than a graze — it looks like a deep cut. Just undo your belt." "Well, give me your handkerchief. I will roll that and mine into a pad and shove it in, and put a bandage tightly round my waist to keep it there. That will do for the present. " That will do nicely," he said as Edgar fastened the ban- dage round him. " Now we shall both do very well until the surgeons have time to tie us up properly. I am afraid they will have serious cases enough to last them all night. Now, what is the next move, I wonder? I am horribly thirsty." " So am I," Edgar agreed. "Are you both wounded?" an officer asked, coming up with two men carrying a water-skin.. " Yes, sir, but not seriously; but we are awfully thirsty." "Then you can have a drink of water," the officer said. "There is httle enough of it, and it is kept strictly for the wounded." Many of the men standing near looked on with envious eyes, for all were suffering horribly from thirst. Several fainted, and the men's lips were black and swollen, and in some cases the tongue swelled so that the mouth could not be closed. The 19th were out searching for the wells, but for AT THE WELLS. 201 a loii^ while their searcli was in \'ain. Tho general was aljout to give the wurd to retire to the zareha where there was a little water still left, when the Hussars fortunately hit upon the wells. The wounded who were unable to walk were at once carried there, and the troops followed and halted near them, and in a short time the thirst of all was satisfied. Although the water was not to be compared with that at Gakdul, being found in shallow pools one or two feet deep, and stirred up by the ^Vrabs till it was almost of the consistency of thin cream, nevertheless it was water, and was enjoyable indeed. CHAPTER XII. METEMMEH. AS soon as the thirst of the men was satisfied the troops formed up for the night on some rising ground near the wells, where it was probable that the natives might renew their attack. Volunteers were called for, and three hundred men from the various corps started to march back to the zareba to bring in the baggage before daylight. It was a heavy duty after such a day's work, but those who remained behind had reason almost to envy those engaged in active work, for the night Avas terribly cold. The men had left everything behind as they advanced prepared for action, and had no blankets, and nothing but their shirts and their suits of thin serge to protect them from the cold. The surgeons were at work all night attending to the wounded. No alarm was given by the outposts during the night, and as when morning broke there were no signs of the enemy, the men were allowed to fall out. A herd of lean cattle left by the Arabs was discovered not far oft' and the Hussars went out in 202 A NIGHT MARCH. pursuit of them; the th'ed horses were, however, no match in point of speed for the cattle, but a few of them were shot, cut up, and a supply of fresh meat for the day secured. At seven o'clock the baggage train came up. The camels were quickly unloaded, and the men set to work to prepare breakfast, having had nothing to eat since the meal they had taken the previous morning under fire in the zareba. During the day the dead were buried, the arms left by the natives collected and destroyed, and a stone inclosure com- menced near the wells, for here the wounded were to remain under the protection of a small force of the Sussex. Both Edgar and the sergeant protested that they were perfectly capable of continuing the march, and were permitted to take their place in the ranks again. At four o'clock the force formed up, and half an hour later set out. It was given out that the march would be a short one and they would presently halt for the night, but as the hours went on it became evident that the general had determined to keep straight on for the river, a distance of twenty-six miles from the wells. It was known that there was a considerable force of the enemy at Metemmeh, and as this would be augmented by the addition of the thousands of Arabs who had been engaged on the previous day, it was probable that, were the enemy aware of the advance of the force, a battle even more serious and desperate than the first would have to be fought before reaching the Nile. The object of the night march, then, was to reach the river before they were aware that the column had started from the wells. The Nile once gained, and a supply of water ensured, the force would be able to withstand any attack made on it. Nevertheless it would have been far better to have risked another battle in the open than to have made a night march across an unknown country. The guides differed among themselves as to the route to be pursued, and more than once the column marched in a com- plete circle, the advance guard coming up to the rear. Thick STltAVKD I'KOM TllK COLUMN. 203 gn)\os of iniiiiosa wore passed Llirt>u^li, causing tlie greatest confusion among the baggage animals. Groat numbers of these lay down to die, unable to proceed a step further, and the transport of all kinds got mixed up together in the most utter confusion. The men, who had had but little sleep for two nights, were unable to keep awake on their camels, and in their passage through the bushes many of the animals straggled away from the main body. Sergeant Bowen had managed to place Edgar next to him- self upon the plea that being wounded he wanted to keep his eye upon him. Being both weakened by loss of blood, they were less able to resist the pressure of sleep than the others, and when their animals got separated in the passage through the mimosa grove from the main body, and stopped to crop the leaves, they were unconscious of what had happened until Edgar woke with a start as one of the boughs his camel had pushed aside struck him smartly in the face. His exclamation roused the sergeant. " Hullo! what has happened 1 " " I don't know what has happened," Edgar said. " But it seems to me that we are alone here. We must both have been asleep, and these brutes must have separated from the column." "This is a pretty mess, this is!" the sergeant said. "I cannot hear anything of them, and there was row enough in the rear with the baggage to be heard miles away. What on on earth are we to do, lad? " " Well, we were marching nearly south. The Southern Cross was almost dead ahead of us. We had better steer by that, and go on ahead until morning." The camels were at once set in motion, and for hours they plodded on. All desire for sleep had been completely dissi- pated by the excitement of the situation, and they talked in low tones as to what they were to do if they could make out no signs of the column when day broke. They agreed that their only plan was to keep on until they got to the river, and 204 WATER. that when they arrived there they would water the camels and give them a feed, and after a rest start on foot along the bank one way or the other until they found the column." " There is safe to be a lot of firing," the sergeant said; "for even if the Arabs don't discover the force in the morning be- fore they get to the river, they are certain to turn out to attack them as soon as they get there. Judging by the pace we were going, and the constant halts for the baggage to come up, there is very little chance of the column getting to the river before daylight; and as we have nothing to delay us, I expect we shall be there before they are." "In one respect that will be all the better," Edgar said; " for as soon as the natives make out the column they will be swarming all over the country to look for stragglers, whereas if we are ahead of them we may get through to the river with- out being noticed. I don't think that it will be very long before morning breaks, and, do you know, sergeant, I think our camels are going faster than they were." " I think so too, lad. That looks as if we were getting near the water, and they smell it." Just as the first signs of daybreak were apparent in the east the character of the country changed, and they could make out clumps of trees, and, as the light grew brighter, cultivated ground. Ten minutes later they both gave a shout of joy as on mounting a slight ascent the river lay before them. A few minutes later they were on its bank. The camels rushing down put their noses into the water; their riders slipped from their backs regardless of the fact that the water was knee- deep, and wading back to the shore threw themselves down by the edge, and took long draughts of the clear water. Then throwing off their clothes they rushed in and indulged in a bathe. The camels, after filling themselves nearly to bursting, lay down in the stream until the sergeant and Edgar went out and compelled them to return to shore, when they set to work A DISTANT GUN. 205 croppiiiL;- tlio long grass tliat grow abundantly tlicro, wliilo their riders sat down and made a meal from the contents of their haversacks. " Well, at any rate," the sergeant said, " we can do nothing just at present. The troops ma}' be within a mile, and they may be ten miles off; there is no saying. There is nothing for us to do but to wait until we hear something of them. If we do not hear anything of them we shall know that they either have not struck the river, or have struck it so far off that we cannot hear the guns. In that case my opinion is that we may as well rest here for to-day. Before we move I think it will be decidedly better to take the saddles off the camels and hide them in the bushes, and then move away some distance and hide up ourselves. This is evidently a cultivated country, and if there are any natives about they will be sure to see the camels, so we had better not be near them. There is no fear of the animals straying; they will be eating and drinking all day." The saddles were accordingly removed from the camels' backs and hidden; the two men went back a few hundred yards from the river and lay down amongst some bushes. Edgar was just dropping off to sleep, when the sergeant exclaimed, "Listen! they are at it." Edgar at once roused himself, and distinctly heard the boom of a distant gun. "That is one of the seven-pounders," the sergeant said; " and I think I can hear the sound of musketry, but I am not sure about that." Presently, however, the wind brought down distinctly the sound of dropping shots. " Skirmishing, lad ! I suppose the enemy are hovering about them, Ijut haven't come to close cjuarters yet." "It is horrible being here instead of with them!" Edgar exclaimed as he rose to his feet. "It is no use thinking of moving, lad; they are four or five 206 "IT IS A BAD JOB, LAD." miles away certainly, and as the Arabs are probably all round them, there wouldn't be the slightest chance of our joining them. There is nothing to do but to wait here. The sound comes from inland, so it is certain they have not got to the river yet. As far as I can judge it is pretty nearly behind us, so when they lick those fellows they are likely to come down on the river somewhere near this point. They will be down before evening. You may be sure they had not got water enough to last them through the day, so they must move for- ward however many of the natives may be in their way. It is not like the last business; then they were on us almost before we knew they were coming, but in this flat country we shall have plenty of warning; and I will bet a year's pay they don't get up to our square again. I think, lad, I will get you to set my bandages right again." Edgar uttered an exclamation of alarm. There was a large dark patch on the sergeant's trousers. In dressing after their bathe the bandages had shifted a little, and the bleeding had recommenced. It was evident at once to Edgar that a great deal of blood had been lost, for Sergeant Bowen lay faint and exhausted upon the ground. Unknown to himself the action of the camel had set the wound off bleeding during the night, and although he had said nothing to Edgar about it, he had with difficulty walked up from the river to their hiding-place. Edgar ran down to the river with the two water-bottles; when he returned he found his companion insensible. He unbuttoned his tunic and got at the wound, from which blood was still flowing. He washed it, made a plug of wet linen, and with some difficulty bandaged it tightly. After some time the sergeant opened his eyes. " Don't try to move," Edgar said. " I have staunched and bandaged the wound, and you will be better soon.'* "It is a bad job, lad; just at present when we want to be up and doing." "There is nothing to do at present, sergeant. We have RECONNOTTniNa 207 only to wait quietly until ouv fellows come down to the river, and then 1 will soon get you assistance." "Do you hear the firing still?" "It is just as it was," Edgar replied, after listening atten- tively for a minute. " Then I expect thoy have formed another zareba, as they did at Abu Klea, and that they will leave the camels there and march straight down to the river." " I will steal up to the edge of the desert, if you don't mind being left alone a bit. I shall be able to judge then how far they are off." "Do so, lad; I am all right here. But do not be too long away or I shall be anxious." Edgar made his way a quarter of a mile back. Some culti- vated fields stretched before him, and beyond them the rolling hillocks of the desert. He could see men on horseback and foot moving about, and looking to the right saw about half a mile distant a place of some extent, which was, he felt sure, Metemmeh. Numbers of men were pouring out from the town. The firing was not straight ahead, but somewhat to the left. "If they attack Metemmeh at once we shall be all right," he said to himself. " If they march straight down to the river we shall be all right still. We shall only have to move along to them. It is lucky we did not strike the river above the town, for it would have been next to impossible to get round to them without being observed." He went back to his companion, and told him what he had seen. " There is evidently going to be another tough fight before they get down to the water," the sergeant said. "It is very hard our being cut off here. Not that I should be good for any fighting if I were with them." " I have no great desire to be in another fight like the last," Edgar said. " One go at that sort of thing is quite enough for me." 208 LISTENING TO THE BATTLE. The hours jDassed slowly. The sergeant slept a good deal, and anxious as Edgar was he too several tmies dozed off. Presently he exclaimed, "The fire is become much heavier, sergeant; and it is nearer too. Listen ! " "It is the Arabs, lad," the sergeant said, raising himself on his elbow. " It is heavy, but it is nothing like the roll of musketry you hear when our fellows begin. But, as you say, it is much nearer; the column, or part of it, is on its march towards the river." Five minutes later a dull continuous rattle came to their ears. "They are at it now. They have stopped!" he said a minute later when the roar suddenly ceased. " What has happened now, I wonder? Ah! there they are again. That is more like it — steady and even." The musketry came in sudden crashes. "Volleys!" the ser- geant said. "They are near them." For three or four minutes the sounds continued, and then there was silence. "They have beaten them oft'," the sergeant said. "They didn't let them get near them this time, I expect. If they had there would have been independent firing. As long as you hear volleys you may be sure our felloAvs are not pressed." ' Beyond an occasional shot the firing had ceased. "How far do you think they are away now, sergeant?" " If they were four miles before I don't think they are more than two now, and a good bit more away to the left. They are making to the river, so as to estabhsh themselves there before they tackle Metemmeh." "Then in half an hour they will be down on the river," Edgar said. "I will wait that time, and then start and get a party to bring you in." " You had better wait until to-morrow morning, lad. We can do very well until then. I may be able to crawl by that time. Anyhow, they will have their hands full this afternoon. "YOU MUST T.EAVE MK." 209 Thoy Avill havo to mnlco a zarcba l)y tlio river, attend to tin; wounded, and perhaps send back a force to bring in the camels and baggage, Avlio wore no doubt left behind at the spot where they were tiring this morning. There is grub enough in the haversacks to last us until to-morrow, and plenty of water for the fetching." "Just as you tliink best, sergeant. My shoulder is smarting a good deal, and I shall be all the better for a few more hours' rest myself. It will soon be getting dusk, so I will go down and get another supply of water at once, and then we can do a good twelve hours' sleep without fear of being called up for out- post duty. We have got three or four nights' sleep to make up." It was broad da3dight before they awoke. The sergeant got on to his feet, but it was evident to Edgar that he was alto- gether unfit for walking. "Shall I saddle your camel for you, sergeant 1" "No, lad; I will stay where I am. Like enough the Arabs will be swarming about just within gun-shot of our camp. They are obstinate beggars, and do not know when they are fairly beaten. If I were as active as you are we might manage to get through on foot, but a man on a camel would be sure to be seen. Be very careful, lad, how you go. Remember, if you are seen you are lost; for these fellows could run you down to a certainty, and your only chance is to get through without being noticed." "I don't like leaving you, sergeant." " But you must leave me, lad. We have no food to speak of left, and it will be just as dangerous to-morrow or next day as it is to-day. Besides, your duty is with the corps. Every musket may be needed, and the sooner you go the sooner I shall be fetched in." " Very well, then, I will start at once," Edgar said. He first went down to the river, filled the two water-bottles and placed them both by the sergeant's side, and emptied what little food remained in his haversack. (050) 210 "GOOD-BYE, lad!" " Now you will do for a couple of days if anything should occur to prevent them frona sending out." " I shall do very well, lad. It is not of myself I shall be thinking, but of you. The gladdest sound that ever fell on my ears will be the tramp of infantry, for then I shall know that you have got safely through. Good-bye, lad, and God bless you!" Edgar wrung the sergeant's hand, and, unable to trust him- self to speak, turned and started through the wood. He had not gone very far when he found that the grove was by no means a large one, for the trees opened before him. He bore to his left, hoping that they would extend along the river bank; but it was not so. The grove was isolated, and a large patch of cultivated land stretched down to the river. Half a mile further there was another grove; but whether this was more extensive than that in which he now was he had no means of telling. Standing at the edge of the trees he could see several figures on horseback moving about, and saw at once that they were natives. " The Hussars will want two or three days' rest, I expect," he said, " before their horses are fit to go out and drive these fellows into the town. Well, here goes!" and he descended the bank of the river, which was now low, and kept along under its shelter until he reached the next grove. It seemed so much safer where he was than it would be above that he determined to keep under shelter of the bank until he reached the camp. He had gone a hundred yards farther when there was a sudden exclamation on the bank above him, and almost at the same instant a spear struck his helmet from his head. He turned round and brought his rifle to his shoulder, but in a moment the Arab on the bank was joined by a score of others, who with loud yells rushed down upon him. He saw that to fire was to ensure his death, and that resis- tance was worse than useless. He therefore threw down his . r GOOD-KVE, LAI), AND GOD BLESS YOU! capturkd! 211 gun and held up his arms. The Arabs rushed ujion him in a, body with ui)liftcd spears and swords, but on an order sharply given by one Avho seemed to be their leader they lowered these. Edgar was, however, knocked down, kicked, and beaten, then some cords were placed round his body and arms, and he felt himself lifted up and carried away. ITe was thrown down again in the wood, and an animated and, as it seemed to him, angry discussion was carried on some time. He had picked up a good many Arabic words, but not enough to enable him to understand the discussion; but he had no doubt that the subject of dispute was whether he should be killed at once or carried away prisoner. As after a time he was lifted up, the cords round his legs taken off, and he was hurried along with many curses and an occasional sharp prick with a spear, he judged that those in favour of sparing his life for the present had won the day. His own jirospects seemed desperate, but for the time he was more concerned at the thought that the man who was perhaps his father was lying helpless in the wood vainly expecting his return. But he did not consider his case altogether hopeless. As soon as the troops were all assembled on the river bank they would be sure to move forward against Metemmeh; and even if they did not pass through the wood the sergeant might gain sufficient strength to reach its edge, get sight of them, and join them. Unless one or other of these alternatives took place, he was lost. As to himself, he could not blame himself for the misfortune that had befallen him. He had taken what seemed by far the safest course, and had it not been for the accident that one of the Arabs had been standing at the moment at the edge of the river, he would have got through safely. His captors had evidently no fear of being attacked. Pro- bably the column that had gone out to fetch in the baggage had not yet returned, and the small force left at the zareba on the river bank w^ould certainly not undertake any offensive operation until it came back. He was sorry now that he had 212 IN METEMMEH. not persisted in his own opinion and remained with the ser- geant, as in another day or two some scouting party might have passed near the grove in which they were concealed. However, it might have made no difference. The Arabs were evidently swarming about the country, and parties would be likely to occupy that wood just as they occupied the one nearer to the English camp. As they approached the village the Arabs raised shouts of triumph, and a crowd gathered as they entered the street, gesticulating and screaming so furiously that Edgar thought he would be torn to pieces. However, his captors forced their way through the crowd, turned off from the street, and entered a court-yard, in the centre of which stood a house of larger size than the majority of those that composed the town. Edgar's legs were again tied, and he was thrown into an outhouse, where he lay for hours. He could hear almost continuous talk- ing in the house, and the voices occasionally rose into angry altercation. He was surprised that he had not been killed as he entered the place, for the Arabs, if they fought with the same courage as those engaged at Abu Klea, must have suffered very heavily before they fell back, and the friends and relatives of those who had fallen would be thirsting for vengeance upon any European who fell into their power. Then he considered that it was probable that the people of Metemmeh itself, who lived by the passage of caravans and the river traffic, would at heart be as much opposed to the Mahdi as were those of Khartoum and other cities. The force with which the British had fought at Abu Klea was composed partly of the Mahdi's regular followers, partly of wild tribesmen, animated alike by Mahommedan fanaticism and the hope of plunder; and although these might unite in an attack against Christians, they had little love for each other. The band into whose hands he had fallen might be towns- people, but more probably were members of some tribe that CALOHLATINd HIS ('IIANCKS 213 luul Ijt'oii 8uiuiuoiiod to arrest the progress of the troops going up to tlio relief of Khartoum. Now that he was detained a prisoner instead of being at once killed, Edgar felt that there was a strong chance for him. In a coujjle of da\-s the force might attack Metemmeh, and in that case he might be rescued. It was, however, a place of considerable size, and containing at present a very large num- ber of fighting men; and after the losses the column had suf- fered in the hrst fight and during its subsequent encounters, Cieneral Stewart might well hesitate to risk still greater loss than he had already suffered by an attack upon the place. It was probable that the Mahdi would send down a large body of troops from those besieging Khartoum, as soon as he heard of the arrival of the small British force on the river, and e\ery gun might be needed to maintain the position and repel attacks until the arrival of reinforcements across the desert. Thus Edgar felt it to be very doubtful whether any attack would be made for the present. Of course as soon as reinforce- ments arrived, or the boat column came up the river, Metemmeh would be captured; but by that time he might be hundreds of miles away. The boat column might not get round for six. weeks, Avhile all reinforcements coming across the desert from Korti would have to march, for Edgar felt sure that it would be a long time before the camels were in a condition for work again. It was well that when he filled the two water-bottles for the use of the sergeant Edgar had taken a long drink, for no one came near him until after dark, and he suft'ered a good deal from thirst, and from the pain caused by the tightness with which he was bound. He began to think that he had been altogether forgotten, when the door of the outhouse opened and two Arabs came in, and seizing him as if he had been a package dragged him out into the court-yard. Then he received two or three kicks as an intimation that he could sit up; but this, roped as he was, he was unable to accomplish, and seeing 214 SHEIK BAKHAT, this the men pulled him against a wall and raised him into a sitting position against it. A fire was burning in the centre of the court-yard. On some cushions in front of it sat a man, whom he recognized as the leader of the party who seized him. Other Arabs were squatted on the ground or standing round. The chief was past the prime of life, but still a powerful and sinewy man. His features were not prepossessing; but Edgar, looking round, thought that the expression of his face was less savage than that of the majority of his followers. "Does the Christian dog speak the language of the Prophet?" he asked, "I speak a little Arabic," Edgar replied, inwardly congratu- lating himself upon the trouble he had taken to pick up a little of the language during the time he had been in Egypt. The answer was evidently satisfactory. The chief bowed his head. "It is good!" he said. "The Kaffir is henceforth a slave in the tents of the Sheik Bakhat of the Jahrin tribe." As he pointed to himself, Edgar understood that his captor intended to keep him as his own property, at any rate for the present, and bowed his head to signify that he understood. "Why are the English foolish enough to come here?" the sheik asked. " They must know that they cannot stand against the power of the Mahdi," "They did not come to interfere with the Mahdi, but to bring back their countryman Gordon and his friends from Khartoum." "They will never reach Khartoum," the sheik said. "Their bones will whiten in the desert." Edgar did not reply, partly because his knowledge of Arabic was insufficient for a discussion, partly because it was not worth while to run the risk of exciting the anger of the chief by pointing out that as they had failed to prevent a thousand men crosbiug the desert to Metemmeh, they might similarly fail in FOOD AND DUINK. 215 picvciitiiii;- a t'orco of seven or oiylit times that amount marcli- ing up the banks of the river to Khartoum, lie therefore remained silent. '•The Mahdi is invincible," the sheik went on after a pause. " He will coiujuer Egypt, and after that will destroy the Kaffirs and take their city of liome, and will capture Constantinople if tlie Turks deny his authority." "The ]\lahdi is a great man!" Edgar said gravely, although with difficulty repressing a smile. "Who can say what may happen?" Then seeing that this answer was also considered satisfactory he went on: "Your slave is hungry and thirsty. He has been wounded, and his bonds hurt him greatly. If he is to be of use to you, will you order that food and drink be given him]" The chief nodded, and at a motion of his hand two of his followers freed Edgar from his bonds, and a dish containing some boiled meal and a jug of water were placed beside him. Edgar drank deeply, but was only able to take a few mouthfuls of food as he was feverish and in considerable pain ; for the wound in his arm, which would have been comparatively slight had proper attention been paid to it, was inflamed and angry, and the arm greatly swollen. As no further attention was paid to him he returned to the outhouse, took ofi' his karkee tunic, and tearing some strips from it, wetted them and laid them on his shoulder. Presently the door was closed, and he heard a heap of brushwood thrown against it, an effectual way of preventing an attempt to escape, for as the door opened outwards the slightest movement would cause a rustling of the bushes and arouse the Arabs who were sleeping in the court-yard. There was no window. Edgar, seeing that escape was out of the question, laid himself down and tried to sleep, but the pain of his arm was so great that it Avas some hours before he succeeded in doing so. The next morning he was allowed to go out into the yard, and for some time no attention was paid to him. Then a considerable 216 "ONLY A RECONNAISSANCE." hubbub was heard in the town, with much shouting and yelling. An Arab ran in at the gate with some news. Edgar could not understand his hurried words, but the effect was evident. The men seized their arms, and then at the sheik's order Edgar was again securely bound and fastened in the outhouse. In the course of an hour he heard firing, first dropping shots and then two or three sharp volleys, and knew that the British were advancing against the town, and that the Arabs had gone out to skirmish with them. Then there was a long pause, and he heard the sound of the English field-pieces. He listened for musketry, but in vain. "It is only a reconnaissance," he said to himself. "Those little guns would not batter down the mud walls round the town without an expense of ammunition that could not be afforded. No doubt the troops could take it by storm, but surely the general would not risk the heavy loss they would suffer before they got in, especially as the place would be oi no use to them when they took it, and must fall as a matter of course when the rest of the force arrives." Such being his opinion, he was but little disappointed when the firing ceased, and he knew by the triumphant yells ot the Arabs that the British force were retiring. In a short time he heard a clamour of voices in the court-yard, and he was pre- sently unbound and released. " The Kaffirs did not dare to attack the place," the Arab said exultantly. " They have gone back to their camp. In a day or two there will be forces here from Khartoum and Berber, and then we will destroy or make slaves of them all." Four days later there was a great firing of muskets and tri- umphant yelling in the streets. Edgar felt very anxious, fear- ing that the expected reinforcements had arrived, and that a tremendous attack was about to be made upon the camp. He did not believe that it had already taken place, for he felt confident that every pains had been taken to strengthen the position, and that in whatever numbers the assault might be A TERRir-LE I'.LOW. 217 made it would bo repulsed. Presently, however, the sheik himself deigned to tell him the cause of the rejoicing. "There is news from Khartoum," he said. "The city has been taken, and the Englishman Gordon and all his followers have been killed. The news is certain. It has been brought down to us by tribesmen on both sides of the river. I told you that the Mahdi was irresistible." The blow was a terrible one to Edgar. In the first place it was grievous to think that the expedition had been made in vain, and that, owing to those in authority at home delaying for months before making up their minds to rescue Gordon, it had failed in its object, and that the noblest of Englishmen had been left to die, unaided by those who had sent him out. He thought of the intense disappointment that would be felt by the troops, of the grief that there would be in England when the news was known, and then he Avondered what would be done next. It was evident to him at once that his own position was altogether changed. He had before felt confident that unless his captors moved away from the town before the arri- val of the main body of the expedition he should he rescued, but now it seemed altogether uncertain whether the expedition would come at all. So long as Gordon was alive England was bound to make every effort to rescue him; but now that he and his comi?anions were dead, and Khartoum had fallen, she might not feel herself called upon to attempt the reconquest of the Soudan. It was probable, however, that this would be the best, and in the end the cheapest way out of the difticulty. Here was a force that had at an enormous expense been brought up almost to within striking distance of Khartoum, and which could be relied upon to make its way thither to defeat the armies of the Mahdi, and to recapture Khartoum without any very great difficulty. The provisions and stores had all been purchased and brought up, and scarce any outlay additional to that already incurred would be entailed by the operation. 218 STILL HOPEFUL. Upon the other hand, to retire now would be to leave the whole Soudan in the hands of the Mahdi and his fanatics. It would mean the destruction of the settled government estab- lished by the Egyptians, and it would expose Egypt to inces- sant invasions, which we should be bound to repel. Common sense, humanity, and even economy seemed to favour the advance of the force to Khartoum. The British people, roused to anger by the fate of Gordon, would probably call loudly for the vindication of the national honour, and for an act of retri- bution on the murderers of Gordon. But Edgar felt that another way out of the difficulty might present itself to the authorities at home. It was not unlikely that the counsels of those who, from the first, had been against the expedition would prevail, and that it would retire to Egypt without striking another blow. In that case it seemed that there was nothing before him but lifelong slavery. Edgar, however was at an age when hope is not easily relinquished. " r may be a slave a long time," he said, " but sooner or later I will escape. I will get to speak the language like a native. I am already almost burnt to their colour, and shall ere long be able to pass as one of themselves. It is hard indeed if after a time I cannot manage to escape, and to make my way either back to Egypt or clown to the Eed Sea, or into Abyssinia. If I did not feel sure that I could do either one or the other, I would do something that would make them kill me at once." CHAPTER XIII. ABU KRU, SEEGEANT Bowen and Edgar were by no means the only men who straggled away from the main body during that terrible night's march from the wells of Abu Klea. Many SURROUNDED. 219 straggled; some niuiiagcd to rejoin the column in the morning, others wandered away and were never heard of again. Morning found tlu! exhausted and Avoru-out men and animals still at a distance from the Nile. Some miles away a long line of ver- dure showed where the river lay, but the general felt that at present the men could do no more, and that a halt for some hours was absolutely necessary. Parties of the enemy's horse and foot men could be seen among the sand-hills, and distant shots had already been fired. The object of the terrible march had failed; it was no longer possible to reach the river without fighting again, and to fight as they were, encumbered with the baggage train and over- powered Avith fatigue, was but to court disaster. Therefore a halt was ordered. To the soldiers the order Avas unAvelcome; tired as they Avere, they would rather, now that the river Avas but some four miles aAvay, have pushed straight on and have done Avith it. But the condition of the animals positively for- bade this. A camping ground Avas chosen on a bare gravelly })lace on the scrub Avhere the ground rose slightly. The Avork of unloading and arranging the camels at once began, but be- fore it Avas concluded a dropping fire Avas opened by the natives from the long grass and bush in the distance. The troops Avere set to work to erect a zareba with the saddles, biscuit-boxes, and other stores, Avhile parties of skir- mishers endeavoured to keep doAvn the fire of the enemy. This, hoAvcver, Avas a difficult task, as the natives were entirely con- cealed, and the men could only fire at the puffs of smoke aris- ing from the grass and bushes. To the Arabs, hoAvever, the camp presented a clear mark, and the sharp rap of the musket- balls as they struck the wall, or the thud Avith Avhich they buried themselves among the croAvd of kneeling camels, was very frequent. Several men were hit, and soon after nine o'clock the report spread through the camp that Sir Herbert Stewart had received a very dangerous if not mortal Avound. The neAvs caused deep sorrow throughout the troops. The 220 VOLUNTEERS WANTED. general was most popular both with officers and men, and there was not one but felt that his loss would be a personal one. It was, moreover, most unfortunate for the expedition itself at such a moment to be deprived of its leader. Before stax'ting. Colonel Burnaby had been designated to assume the command in case of any accident happening to the general; but Burnaby had fallen at Abu Klea, and it therefore devolved upon Sir Charles Wilson, who was accompanying the force solely in a diplomatic capacity, and who was to push up the river in one of the steamers and communicate with General Gordon as soon as the force reached the Nile. Soon afterwards orders were given that a ridge of ground sixty yards distant on the right front should be occupied, as from that point the ground beyond was commanded to a con- siderable distance, and the enemy thus prevented from gathei'- ing for a sudden rush from that direction. Skinner and Easton were lying down together under cover of the wall when the order was given. Skinner was energetically denouncing the night march and the present halt. Easton was smiling quietly, and occasionally pointing out the difficulties which would have ensued had his companion's view of the matter been adopted. "It is beastly lying here doing nothing," Skinner finally grumbled. " Well, there is no occasion for you to do so," Easton said as an officer passed along saying that volunteers were required to carry boxes to build a small work on the ridge. Skinner at once jumped to his feet, ran to the pile of biscuit-boxes, seized two of them, swung them on to his shoulders and started for the ridge. Easton followed in more leisurely fashion, and a number of other officers and men at once set about the work. It was not pleasant. As soon as the concealed enemy saw what was being done they directed their fire upon the party, and the bullets flew fast across the ground that had to be passed over. Several men dropped, but the work was continued vigorously, and in the course of an hour a A TKYTNO rOSITION. 221 sinall work was raised upon tlio ri