Part 40 (1/2)

”The light of discipline and skill against brute force, old fellow.”

said Wyatt, nodding quietly; ”and I feel as if I should like to pitch my helmet in the air and cry 'Hooray!' But officers mustn't do that. Come along with me.”

He led the way and rode along the line, looking anxiously in the men's faces.

”Who is hurt?” he said. ”Any man want to fall out?”

There was a pause, during which no one answered. ”Well done!” cried Wyatt excitedly. ”Splendid work, my lads.”

There was a loud cheer at this, and directly after the order to advance was given, and the troop rode steadily back, mostly at a walk, to the city, reaching the gates quite unmolested, and entering just before dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

DIFFERENCES OF OPINION.

To the great satisfaction of all, everything was going well. The troop had found themselves received in silence at the gate by the Rajah's troops, and had ridden through the streets to the old palace, with the people in crowds watching their entrance; but no enthusiasm was displayed, and Wyatt said grimly:

”They look as if they were sorry that we have come back safely.”

”Or as if some of them wanted to give us a warmer welcome, only they feel afraid.”

”That's about what it is,” said Wyatt. ”They are afraid. I hope nothing has gone wrong in barracks.”

His hope was satisfied, for the gates were close shut, and the guard ready to challenge them before admittance was given, Sergeant Stubbs, left in command, having nothing more to report than the fact that a large body of armed men had been hanging about the place.

”Just as if they were waiting to hear how things were going, gentlemen.

And, between ourselves, I can't help thinking that if you had been worsted they would have attacked us. Not that they would have had much satisfaction out of that.”

”What do you mean, Stubbs!” asked Wyatt.

The man shook his head.

”They'd have been too much for us, of course, sir,” he said; ”and we should have been done. But I'd got a plan ready for them in the shape of the ammunition.”

”What were you going to do?” asked d.i.c.k.

”Only going to put a lighted linstock to the end of a train leading to a big powder-bag in the ammunition-wagon, sir. Pity, I thought, to let our friends have that. They don't understand our cartridges, and might have burned their fingers.”

Sergeant Stubbs said this with a grim look, but it was sober, earnest determination not to die un-revenged, for there was powder enough to destroy the place and all that were in it.

d.i.c.k was warm enough with his hot ride and all he had gone through, but as soon as he had flung his rein to his syce and patted Burnouse, he hurried to the room where the wounded men lay, finding Hulton looking deadly pale, but calm and free from fever; while the doctor, in spite of his weakness, was able to make inquiries about how the day had gone.

d.i.c.k told him in as few words as he could, and soon found that every one was listening.

All at once there was a deep groan, and d.i.c.k sprang to the bed of one of the men, to find that the sufferer was Hanson.

”Arm you in pain?” he said anxiously.

”Pretty well for that, sir. Why do you ask?”