Part 32 (1/2)

”I wish he hadn't said anything about that powder being underneath,”

muttered d.i.c.k as he undressed, after examining his charpoy, with its delicate muslin mosquito-curtains.

But he threw himself down with a weary sigh, thoroughly enjoying the elasticity of the laced-string bottom of the bedstead; and, powder or no powder, in less than five minutes he was fast asleep.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

IN ACTION.

It was hard for a brief s.p.a.ce for Richard Darrell to grasp the fact that he was not in cantonments at Roumwallah when the trumpet rang out in the grey dawn and echoed round the courtyard--for the change was sudden from deep sleep to wakefulness.

But the appearance of the bed-hangings and the strangeness of the place brought all back with a rush, and he leaped out of bed to run to the window and look out.

There in the courtyard, backed by the dark shadows, stood the six guns, looking pearl-grey with dew, and by them the fine, stalwart figure of one of the gunners in fatigue uniform, his sabre hooked up and carbine resting in the hollow of his arm, marching slowly up and down.

Away to the left was the lofty, dark arch of the gateway, made high enough to allow for the pa.s.sage of a fully caparisoned elephant with the roofed howdah and ornament; and there, too, was a sentry pacing his beat at right angles to the man by the guns, who for some reason once more attracted d.i.c.k.

He stood gazing hard at the man, trying to make out his features; but it was too dark yet.

”It must be,” thought d.i.c.k; ”and--yes, that settles it--he limps slightly. It is Hanson.”

d.i.c.k began to wonder whether the man would keep to his promise; and somehow the recollection of all that had pa.s.sed kept the thinker's brain actively employed during the time he was dressing, with the full intention of taking advantage of the cool freshness of the morning to have a stroll about the place.

By the time he was dressed the men were giving the final touches to the guns, which glistened in the morning suns.h.i.+ne, free from every speck of dust; from the long double range of stables the whinnying and stamping of horses was heard, while the camp-servants and others were busily rearranging the baggage and ammunition-wagons along the front of the stabling, formerly, no doubt, the site of much more important buildings.

The first man he met on descending to the courtyard was Sergeant Stubbs, who looked full of business, but found time to salute.

”Was not that Hanson on guard by the guns, Sergeant?” asked d.i.c.k.

”Yes, sir,” said the old sergeant, shaking his head. ”It's him, and it ain't him, if you can understand that.”

”Find him changed?” said d.i.c.k eagerly.

”Changed ain't the word for it, sir. There's something wrong with him.

I ain't a sooperst.i.tious man as believes in fetches and warnings and that sort of thing, but if Bob Hanson gets something at our next set-to, I shouldn't be much surprised.”

”I should,” said d.i.c.k shortly--”very much.”

”Yes, sir,” said the sergeant respectfully, ”you would be, I dessay; but, begging your pardon, sir, one thinks very differently when you're one side o' twenty to what you do when you're the other side o' two twenties.”

”Morning, Darrell.--Morning, Sergeant; you're beginning to get a bit s.h.i.+p-shape,” said Wyatt, coming upon them suddenly.

”Yes, sir; soon be right now. Saves a lot of time having no tents to set up or strike. These'll make better quarters than our old ones as soon as we're shook down.”

”No doubt,” said Wyatt.--”Which way are you going, Darrell?”

”To the gate, and to have a stroll round. Come?”

For answer Wyatt walked with his young companion to the great gate, and then stopped short.