Part 11 (1/2)
The strong liquor had loosened the tongue of the ordinarily silent old man and he continued:
”Oi catched his eye fair; an' 'tis the eye of a foightin' man--an eye, the loike o' which Oi ain't seen since Oi looked f'r the last time in the dead eyes o' Captain Fronte McKim, in the second outbreak o' the wild Boh, Hira Kal, in the brown hills o' the Punjab.”
The men listened expectantly, for when the liquor was right the old man could tell of strange wars in far climes.
”One night the little hillmen sneaked up on Captain Barkley's flyin'
battery. They left his head an' his men's stickin' atop a row o' stakes an' dragged the guns to a hilltop overlookin' the pa.s.s. An' in the mornin' they unlimbered, sweepin' our left wing.
”Fronte McKim was captain o' the Lights an' Oi was a corp'l. All that mornin' the Boh kep' pepperin' away, wi' 'Miss f.a.n.n.y,' the colonel he was, an' his parade-groun' staff o' book sogers, wi' tables o' figgers an' the book o' rules an' maps an' a pair o' dividers, tryin' to figger out how to chase a bad Boh offen a hilltop wi'out clim'in' the same.
”An' he lived a long time after, did Miss f.a.n.n.y, to die in his bed o'
some nice, fine disease, wi' his fambly an' his Scotch an' sody gathered about him.
”An' he was put in a foine, big coffin wi' a bran' new flag spread atop to keep off the dust, an' carried back to Englan' in a war-s.h.i.+p, wi'
the harbor guns firin' salutes--the whiles Fronte McKim lays back among the hills o' Punjab, wropped in his powder-burnt, shot-tore blanket.
”The hillmen an' their women an' the s.h.i.+ny hill kids give wide berth in pa.s.sin', an' make low salaams to the grave o' the terrible fightin'
_sahib_ that put the fear o' G.o.d in the heart o' the wild Boh. An' it's as Captain Fronte would wished--Oi know'd um well.
”But, as Oi was sayin', the whiles Miss f.a.n.n.y was tryin'--by nine times six is forty-seven an' traject'ry an' muzzle v'locity an' fours right an' holler squares--to wish the Boh offen the hilltop so he could march us through the pa.s.s accordin' to Hoyle, Fronte McKim was off ahead among the rocks, layin' on his belly behint a ant-hill studyin' the hillside through his spygla.s.s.
”Well, 'long 'bout noon he come gallopin' up, wi' his big black horse all a lather, to where we was layin' in the scrub cursin' the flies an'
the department an' the outbreaks o' Bohs.
”'Come on, boys!' he hollers, wi' the glitter in his eye; 'Oi found the way! All together now, an' we'll see the top o' yon hill or we'll see h.e.l.l this day!'
”Wi' that he tears loose a yell 'twould strike a chill to the heart o'
an iceberg, an' wheels his horse into the open--an' us in the saddle an' follerin', all yellin' like a h.e.l.lful o' devils turned loose for recess.”
The old man s.h.i.+fted his crutch and sipped at his liquor.
”Most o' us seen the top o' the hill,” he resumed, ”an' the brown hillmen, what of 'em wasn't layin' limp by the guns, a skitterin'
through the scrub after a Boh who'd took off on a stray cavalry horse.
”But they was a many o' us as didn't--layin' sprawled among the rocks o' the bare hillside, an' their horses runnin' wild to keep up wi' the charge. We found Captain Fronte wi' his whole front blow'd out by a sh.e.l.l an' his shoulders kind o' tumbled in where his lungs belonged--but thim eyes was lookin' straight at the hilltop.
”An' Oi looked in 'em long--for Oi loved him--an' was glad. 'Cause Oi know'd Captain Fronte McKim was seein' h.e.l.l--an' enjoyin' it.”
He set down the empty gla.s.s and favored Creed with a cold stare: ”An'
his eyes is like _that_--the stranger's--an' yours ain't, nor Moncrossen's.”
CHAPTER XII
THE TEST