CHAPTER XXVII
An Encounter with the Nana Sahib
Knowing that his present force would be lost in the mazes of Lucknow,Sir Colin awaited reinforcements. Jung Bahadur, the Gurkha primeminister and commander-in-chief, was marching down to his assistancewith a strong column of the Nepal army, and Lord Canning, thegovernor-general, had advised Sir Colin to wait for the Gurkhas, astheir general was keen on taking part in the siege, and Jung Bahadurwould be annoyed if he had to return to Nepal without having had a sharein any important fighting, and his friendship was worth something to theBritish. The troops were therefore employed in keeping opencommunications, and in small expeditions to Bithur, where Nana Sahiblived, and whithersoever the rebels were gathered in force.
Christmas came and went, and a new year opened, before Ted Russell tookpart in another fight. In the early days of January, 1858, the rebelswere attacked at the village of Khuda-ganj, north-west of Cawnpore.
No sooner were the troops within range than the native gunners openedfire, and showed how excellent had been their training. The shellswhizzed viciously overhead, and one burst with a crash between Ted andRamzan Khan, who were within ten paces of each other, the fragmentswhirring about their ears without touching man or beast. Boldre's Horsewere ordered to retire out of range, and the Horse Artillery began totalk back, and Peel's tars came running up, dragging their big gunsalong without apparent effort, and, wheeling them smartly into action,were soon pumping shot and shell into the rebel stronghold.
The rest of the troops were ordered to take cover and lie down until thecannon should have played havoc among the mutineers, and prepared theway for a bayonet charge. And now Ted and Claude, from behind thesand-hills, witnessed an unusual incident, no less than open defiance ofthe commander-in-chief himself, by an English regiment--flat mutiny infact.
The men of the 53rd firmly believed that Sir Colin favoured theHighlanders unduly, and gave them more than their due. Having learnedthat he had selected the 93rd for the honour of leading the stormers,they quietly determined to baulk their rivals. The rebel fire was stillunsilenced--indeed both Sir Colin and General Hope Grant had just beenhit by spent bullets--when one of the 53rd rose and ran forward yelling.A howl of triumph and a cheer, and the regiment dashed after him.
Sir Colin was furious--but the 53rd must be supported, even though theyhad upset his plans. He gave the 93rd the order to back them up, andHope Grant advanced his cavalry.
A thrill of delight passed through the nerves of our two lieutenants asthe "Charge" was sounded, and the line of British Lancers and Sikh andPathan Irregulars shot forward at a gallop, knee to knee as though onparade, the earth quivering beneath the hammering, the horses strainingas if they entered into the feelings of their riders. It was a suprememoment, and Ted could tell that his good Arab was as excited as himselfas the line thundered onwards. And then the regularity of the gallop wasspoiled and the better-horsed shot ahead, for the lads of the 53rd hadbroken Jack Pandy's heart, and he was already scudding away with hisguns. One party of rebels after another was overtaken and scattered, andon went the cavalry until all the guns were captured and hardly a rebelwas left in sight. Then they turned and charged back upon those who hadescaped the first shock.
"Hurt at all?" asked Ted as he came up with Claude Boldre.
Boldre pointed to his leg, from which the blood was welling. "Bit of abayonet prick from a pandy who was down. I don't think much of it."
"Better have it bathed, though.---- By Jove, look there! Roberts is adead man--no, he's cut the sepoy down!"
The troop of native cavalry with which the future hero of Kandahar andPretoria was riding had come across a body of mutineers, who, unable toescape, had turned and fired, mortally wounding Younghusband, thecommandant. Roberts was hurrying to his friend's aid, when he noticed apandy in the act of slaying one of his troopers. He instantly engagedthe rebel, and, cutting him down, saved the life of the Punjabi. Turninground Lieutenant Roberts perceived a couple of sepoys hurrying off witha standard, so he pursued and overtook them, and, seizing the standardwith his left hand, he killed the bearer. As he did so the other sepoylet fly, his musket barely a foot away. Luckily for England it missedfire, and the second opponent was speedily disposed of, and LieutenantRoberts bore away the standard and thereby gained the V.C.
"Well done, Roberts!" exclaimed Ted as they watched him ride away.
"Didn't you shiver when you saw the pandy pull the trigger?"
"I went cold all over. I thought he was done for. But come along andbathe your cut if you don't want to be laid up."
"I don't want that, thanks--not until we've driven the beggars out ofLucknow.
"I like that nag of yours better every time I see him," observed Boldre,as his own horse stumbled towards camp, winded by the long gallop.
"Yes, he was a bargain. I should like to know who owned him originally.By the way, I wonder what Sir Colin will do to the 53rd. The chief canbe a peppery old gentleman when he likes, and I expect there'll be arow."
"Yes, I shouldn't care to be in their shoes."
They were not present to witness the scene, but for once in his life SirColin was vanquished. Whenever he attempted to "dress down" theregiment, the "bhoys" of the 53rd, highly elated by the success of theirtrick, would interrupt with shouts of "Three cheers for thecommander-in-chief, boys!" And so rapturously did they applaud and withsuch hearty good-temper that the old general was forced to laugh inspite of himself; and after that it was no use to pretend to be angry.He rode away amid a storm of cheers. The 53rd had won.
After a prolonged stay at Fatehghar, Boldre's Horse returned toCawnpore. Now for the first time Ted had leisure to look round thistown, so sorrowfully interesting to the English race. Alec knew theplace well, having stayed there before Ted came down from Lahore; so hetook his chum to the ghaut where the massacre had begun, and then tothat last sad scene of the murder.
There were gruesome sights still to be witnessed in Cawnpore, and,partially inured as the lads now were to the horrors of war, there wasthat in Cawnpore to make them shudder--bones bleaching on the manysand-banks of the broad river, and corpses floating down its sacredstream.
But the saddest sights of all were those which recalled the foultreachery of the previous summer. Nowhere did the British soldiers solong to close with the sepoys, hand to hand and steel against steel, asat Cawnpore. Ill fared it, then, with any natives of that town whom thesoldiers suspected of having helped, or even looked on, at that diretragedy. It is to be feared that the innocent sometimes suffered for thesins of the guilty, for the soldiers were not in a mood to discriminate,and they did not know then that sepoys, even of the rebel regiments, hadabsolutely refused to obey the Nana, when he gave the order for thewomen and children to be murdered.
The Sikh and Pathan allies had old scores to pay off against the Oudhsepoys, and they were with difficulty restrained. More than one harmlessHindu, who had taken no part in the outrage--who had perhaps risked hislife for his master--fell a victim to their vengeance.
Our two Aurungpore officers were gazing upon the waters of the Ganges,some distance east of the ghaut, silent and meditative. Ted waspicturing the scene of the massacre, and the terrible agonies of thewomen as they saw their husbands being killed off by the concealedmarksmen without a chance to retaliate; and the horror of all as thesurvivors were dragged to shore amid the gleeful shouts of the ruffians.Perhaps a pandy had been lying down there where he and Alec stood. Hishand went to his sword-hilt at the thought.
Paterson on the other hand was trying to realize that this muddy streamwas actually the great Ganges, the wonderful river of which he had heardand read so much in childhood--Mother Ganges, the deity of the Hindus.
A nearly-naked Hindu entered the sacred stream, a brass vessel in hishand. Wading until his knees were covered he dipped the loto in thefilthy water and drank therefrom, or rather filled his mouth and let ittrickle out again. Then he splashed his body from head to foot, andpresently crouched down in t
he water and prayed to Mother Gunga.
"Well," observed Ted with disgust, "if that chap ain't poisoned hedeserves to be purified. Ugh! drinking that filth!"
"He keeps looking at us," said Alec. "I wonder what he wants."
"No good, I'll be bound. He's praying now."
The devotee came to the bank and began to smear himself with holy mud,facing in turn north, east, south, and west. A number of Hindus were nowin the water, but none was so devout as he, whom the others watched inrespectful admiration. Quite suddenly he raised his arm on high, and,fixing the two with his rolling eyes, he cursed them aloud. Pretendingnot to notice, the boys turned away, but the _yogi_ ran after them, theholy water dripping from his hair and body as he ran.
Calling them to halt, he fired off another volley of curses in a highshrill voice, greatly to the delight of his co-religionists. He calledheaven to witness that he hated the unclean Feringhi, and vowed thatdestruction would come upon them suddenly unless they gave heed to himand returned to their own country.
By this time the yogi had approached within a pace or two of the lads,who were quickly walking away from the scene, and fifty yards to therear followed admiring groups. The yogi leaned his head forward,spitting forth his curses, and then ostentatiously drew a knife from thefolds of his loincloth, and changed his tone in a most unexpectedmanner.
"Take me prisoner! Quick, sahibs!" he hurriedly whispered. "I have newsfor you. Your pistols, quick!" and then he made pretence to strike atthe nearer boy.
Alec was the quicker to act. He whipped out his revolver, and,springing towards the yogi, who had recoiled, placed the muzzle againsthis head. The group of Hindus howled with rage.
"Come along, you rebel dog!" Alec shouted in Urdu. "Well see how youlike being shot out of a cannon."
"That's right," whispered the yogi encouragingly, and aloud he shriekedappeals to his gods to destroy the Englishmen. Ted had now hold of oneof the strange fellow's arms, and together they dragged him along, hemaking pretence to resist.
"What do you want?" Alec whispered.
"I am loyal, but I am suspected, and there are spies perhaps watchingeven now. If I had come to the English camp with the news, or evenspoken to you in a friendly manner, I might have lost my life. Threetimes have I performed _puja_ here in the hope of a chance of speakingto an English officer unsuspected. My news is that Dundu Pant of Bithuris at Pindijang. Now let me wrest myself free, and you must chase me."
"How can we know that your news is true?" asked Ted dubiously.
"Ask Lawson Sahib if he will believe Pancham Tewari. He will know."
An adroit twist and wrench and the yogi was free and running down theroad. Ted fired--and missed--and Alec followed suit, both taking carenot to hit the man. The onlookers howled with delight at the supposeddiscomfiture of the Feringhis, and the yogi turned and cursed themafresh, and the boys judged it best to retire when they saw the mob pickup stones and advance to protect the holy man.
"We'd better clear away," said Alec. "I know Major Lawson; he'll tellwhether the man is genuine."
"Hope his news is true. It'll be a feather in our caps if we help tocatch the Nana. Where is Pindijang?"
"No idea. It's rather a fishy business altogether, and I'm afraid it's atrap."
"I shouldn't be surprised," Ted replied. "I hope not, though, for it maybe a great score for us if we help to catch the ruffian."
They lost no time in reaching camp, and Alec led the way to MajorLawson's quarters, where they told the story of the encounter with themysterious yogi, and how they had been referred to him for a character.
"Pancham Tewari is to be trusted," said the major. "He's an old friendof mine, and he loves the Nana Sahib about as much as we do, for thescoundrel has dispossessed the Tewari family of their lands by fraudsome time ago, and Pancham would do anything to get even with him. I'llsee this matter through. Not a word to a soul, mind."
They kept their own counsel, and had heard no more about the matter whenthey turned in for the night. But Ted Russell felt sure that somethingwas in the air, and could hardly sleep for excitement. He dreamt that hewas engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with a yogi, who quite casuallychanged to the infamous Rajah of Bithur, and, emerging from the bed ofthe Ganges, chased him for many miles, finally tripping him up;whereupon Ted caught him by the throat, and the murderer began to groan.He awoke and listened. Surely someone was groaning close at hand! Alechad of late been sharing his tent, and he stretched out his hand andgroped for his chum.
"What's wrong?" came a growl.
"Listen!"
"It is only the silly camels warbling. Go to sleep."
"So it is. You can whiff 'em, too! We get too much camel here. I wishthe wind 'ud change."
The camel, that useful but detested animal, grunts and grumbles allnight long, and the soldier blesses him in picturesque language. Thefact that, moreover, "'e smells most awful vile" does not tend toincrease his popularity.
"I wish you wouldn't spoil my beauty-sleep whenever you have anightmare," Paterson sleepily grumbled, as he rolled over and becameblissfully unconscious.
But Ted was restless and could not sleep. The camels kept up theirserenade until he longed to sally forth with a whip. Presently afootstep was heard outside and the tent-flaps parted. Ted rose to asitting posture and laid hold of his pistol.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"'For Valour'!" came the cool reply. "Why, my V.C. winner, you're asfrightened as a babu! Get up! we're going on a daur."
It was Claude Boldre. Giving Alec a joyous kick, Ted hurriedly dressedand went out. The sun had not yet risen, but the camp was fitfullylighted by the wood-fires, around which half-clad native servantssquatted and shivered. Others were running to and fro, aimlessly to allappearance, and the horses had begun to neigh. Away to the right hecould make out against the walls of white canvas the dark forms ofGovind Singh and Hira Singh superintending the preparations of theirmen.
"Come along, Ted, and have some breakfast," said Claude, appearing frombehind the tents. "Your horse is being looked after. We start in half anhour."
Linking his arm in Ted's he marched him into the colonel's tent, callingto Paterson to follow. As they entered, Colonel Boldre looked up fromhis map, nodded, and motioned towards the breakfast-table. Thecoffee-pot was steaming thereon, and the boys did not hesitate. The tentwas not more than a dozen feet square, and there was only one sparechair. Claude sat on the pallet-bed and Ted on a trunk.
"Are we going to Pindijang?" asked the latter, "and if so, where is it?"
"Why!" exclaimed the colonel in surprise, "how did you know?"
Ted and Alec laughed.
"This is our daur, colonel. Didn't you know?"
"Your daur! What on earth do you mean?"
"We brought the news last night that the Nana was there," Alec replied."We had it from a spy."
Colonel Boldre regarded them with interest.
"You never told me," said Claude.
"We were told to keep it quiet," said Ted.
"Quite right!" observed their commandant. "Pindijang is about nine milesaway, and this is to be a cavalry affair. Our fellows are going, with adetachment of Hodson's and Probyn's, and a squadron of the 9th Lancers,and a troop of Horse Artillery."
"The pater's in command," whispered Claude.
"I congratulate you, colonel," said Alec promptly.
In came Major Lawson, and the boys cleared out. The wild-looking men ofBoldre's Horse had broken their fast and were eager for the fray,chattering in groups, discussing the probable destination, and hazardingall kinds of wild conjectures. A few moments later without any sound ofbugles, the regiment was in the saddle and trotting away to thenorth-west.
Paterson sorrowfully watched them depart, for he had not obtainedpermission to accompany the force.
"Where are the others?" Ted enquired of Claude.
"Don't know.... Who are these?--oh! the Flamingoes, and there are theProbyn ruffians. We've done it very quietly."
"Those will be the Lancers and the guns," Ted hazarded his opinion."Yes, there's no mistaking that music. Good old Horse Artillery!"
With joined forces the little flying column pushed forward at a trot,the pleasant clatter of hoofs and jingle and rattle of the guns formingan accompaniment, inspiring with its martial noise.
A flash of yellow light gleamed far away on the eastern horizon, as themetal upon one of the tall minarets of Lucknow caught the first rays,and the sun had risen. There before them lay the fortified village ofPindijang in the dip hollowed out by the shallow tributary runningsouth-east to join the Granges. The place was walled, and they could seethe black muzzles of cannon peeping from the embrasures. Theneighbourhood was well wooded, affording good cover for sharp-shooters.
Colonel Boldre grumbled at his hard luck. Half an hour earlier and hecould have taken the village by surprise. The fault was not his, for themap showed Pindijang as nine miles from Cawnpore. It had proved not lessthan a dozen, and would have to be taken by hard fighting, not by a_coup_.
He sent the Lancers with two of the horse-guns away to the right to cutoff retreat in the direction of Lucknow, the Irregular Horse remainingconcealed by a wood until the flanking party should be ready toco-operate. Ted and Claude stood watching the Englishmen ride off,admiring the gallant bearing of the splendid Bengal Horse Artillery, acorps that has given so many famous men to India. The lances of thecavalry flashed and glittered as the steel points caught the sun,making, with the picturesque trappings of the Artillery and thefascination of their guns, one of the bright and beautiful scenes ofwar. The other side of the picture was presently to be seen.
"We're quite on a hill here," said Ted. "I should not have thought theground dipped so much. They're out of sight."
"There will be a stream to cross down there."
Presently a myriad flashing of tiny points of moving fire, like thefacets of waves dancing in the sun, and the Lancers were seen emergingfrom the hollow and trotting up the slight incline. But the guns werenot with them, for the wheels had sunk deep in the mud of the far bank.A score of the Lancers had remained to help, while the remainder trottedacross the plateau to cut off the retreat.
Suddenly a bank of smoke obscured the trunks of the trees, and the ranksof the Lancers seemed to break up, as the crash and rattle of musketryrang in the ears of the distant onlookers. Then were seen gaps and emptysaddles and maddened horses. The officer in command, himself wounded,could be seen steadying his men, and, resisting the temptation to chargein among the trees, he drew them off rapidly and in good order, andbrought them under cover, where they dismounted, and their carbinesbegan to seek out the hidden pandies.
Colonel Boldre was visibly agitated. The sepoys had seen their approachand laid a trap, and, should they be strong enough to overwhelm thecavalry, the stuck guns would be lost.
He was about to give the order to support the Lancers, when there washeard a clang and a clatter and a rattle, and a whirl of dust was seenrushing up the slope, as though wind-impelled.
"B. H. A. for ever!" Ted exclaimed. "By George! they are going!"
The sound of firing so close at hand had put double strength into thebacks of the gunners, and they tugged and pushed, and the plucky horsesalso heard the sound, and out of the mud came the guns. Mountingrapidly, the drivers cracked their whips and urged forward their teamsof six good horses. The dust rose and enveloped them as they boundedalong; then they wheeled, stopped sharply, and unlimbered.
Colonel Boldre's face relaxed, and he gave no command. The watchers sawthe gunners busy as ants; then came a flash and a roar as a shellhurtled among the trees, and a second was in the air before the firsthad burst.
With hardly a pause a third and fourth shell exploded among the pandies,apparently with deadly effect. Their fire slackened, died down; theywavered, and another shell fell amongst them. Panic-stricken theystreamed away towards the sheltering walls. The Lancers mounted theirhorses; the guns scattered another shell or two amid the fugitives, and,limbering up, rattled after them.
But the surprise had failed, and there was now little chance ofcapturing the arch-traitor. With poignant disappointment Colonel Boldresaw the troops pouring out of the village through the north-westerngate, the exit farthest from them. He gave the word, and the Irregularsgalloped away to their left front to cut them off.
Ted's Arab was both fleet and great-hearted, and he and Govind Singhwere soon to the front, half a length in advance of the ragged line. Itwas a race, not a charge, and Ted remembered with a smile how he hadonce guided "The Padre" to victory. The pace of the runaways was checkedby the river which, bending from the north-east, looped round thewestern and southern sides of the village, leaving only the eastern sideopen, and _there_ were the British Lancers, now quite near to thewalls. Close behind him Ted could hear the jingle of a gun and the madgalloping of its team, tearing the big weapon along with jolt andclatter. Few sights are there to surpass horse artillery galloping intoaction, and few sounds more musical; and the noble horses seem inspiredthereby, and enter into the spirit of the movement with a zest as greatas that of the men.
They were now level with the ghaut, or ford, and a few hundred yards tothe west thereof. The guns unlimbered, and, after sending a couple ofshells after the leading fugitives who had made good their escape, theyopened on the ghaut and got range with the second shot. More than halfthe pandies were checked; on the one side were English cavalry and acouple of those deadly guns, on the other the only way of escape was adeath-trap. Colonel Boldre despatched a body of Probyn's Horse and ofhis own men under Claude to ride down to the ghaut and take charge ofthe prisoners. The rest continued in the track of the Nana.
Ted, Govind Singh, and a handful of the better-mounted men had kept ontheir way without a pause, and they quickly perceived that they wereoverhauling the sepoys, the hindmost of whom presently began to scatteracross the fields and swampy ground, making for the woods and jungle.And after them went most of the pursuers.
But Ted and Govind Singh with some of their Jalandar men kept straightahead. They had noticed that amongst the runagates who had stuck to theroad were two or three men of consequence, to judge by their costumesand the caparisons of their steeds. And some instinct told our ensignthat he in the middle of the group, decked out in a conspicuous saffronshawl, with a glittering turban, was none other than the Nana himself.Heedless of all other considerations he urged his handful onward,speeding farther and farther away from the main body, intent only onslaying or capturing the Mahratta ruffian.
They were now within a hundred yards of their quarry, and almost up withthe laggards, some of whom broke away into the paddy-fields, while thosewho were not quick enough received short shrift from Govind Singh'scompatriots. With hardly a pause the Punjabis again swept forward, theirnumber reduced by one. As they lessened the distance separating themfrom the rear-guard a couple of pandies swiftly swerved aside, off thetrack, and fired as the Sikhs, unprepared for the manoeuvre, flew pastin a bunch. The sowar on the right of Govind Singh reeled in his saddleand then his horse shot to the front, relieved of its burden, and Tednoticed that a second of his men winced, let his carbine fall, andclapped a hand to his side.
"Forward!" shouted the young officer as the men began to pull on thereins. "Forward! Never mind those two; there's a big reward for him whocatches that saffron fellow in front!"
With much reluctance the Punjabis allowed the two pandies to continuetheir flight unmolested. The chieftain and his body-guard were withinpistol-shot, and Ted fired twice, and unhorsed the sepoy who rode nextto the leader, at whom he had aimed. And suddenly the rebels turned andwith savage yells charged back upon their pursuers. Ted again aimed atthe leader and again missed, and the Nana's men were upon them, three toone.
With a yell as savage as theirs Govind Singh rose in his stirrups andfelled his nearest opponent with one mighty blow, and, leaning forward,buried his tulwar in the shoulder of another
. Before he could recoverhis blade a lance was thrust into his breast, and he dropped like a log.Ted saw the fall of his right-hand man, and was near enough to cut downthe striker just as another of the mutineers rode full tilt at him.
The lance-point grazed his tunic, and he caught the shaft under hisarm-pit, gave the pandy his point, and went forward, straight for theman with the saffron shawl, who was keeping well in the background. Hecut at the villain's head, but a tulwar interposed, caught his blade,and snapped it off at the hilt. And at this moment, when the superiorstrength and size and courage of the Punjabis were barely enabling themto hold their own, the two pandies who had escaped had now wheeled roundand charged to the aid of their comrades, taking Ted's two or threeunexpectedly in the rear and deciding the issue.
A tremor of cold fear ran through our hero's frame as he found himselfarmed only with a useless sword-hilt wherewith to defend himself. Thevile Mahratta raised his pistol, and, at a distance of three paces,fired point blank at the lad's breast. Ted Russell's career would haveended then and there had not his Arab, at the very moment that thetrigger was pulled, trodden on the edge of a naked blade. The horsereared, received the bullet in its head, and rolled over dead, almostcrushing its rider.
One Sikh and one only of the reckless few who had galloped in the wakeof Ted and Govind Singh remained alive, and he was unhorsed and fightingvaliantly on foot. He hacked his way to the rescue of his officer, andwounded the pandy who, having disarmed Ted, was about to deal afinishing blow. Then he in his turn was laid low. Ted still had hisrevolver; raising himself on his elbow he took aim at the Nana, whoinstantly set spurs to his horse, and his two surviving retainersfollowed his example. But Ted had the Mahratta rajah covered. Filledwith exultation at the thought that the murderer was at last at hismercy he pulled the trigger.
There was no report, and he realized with a heavy heart that theweapon's chambers were all empty, that the arch-traitor had escaped, andthat he was helpless!
He rose and looked about him, and a reaction of thankfulness followedthe bitter disappointment as the thought stole upon him that he hadescaped with no injury more serious than a scratch or two. He perceivedthat it was lucky that his enemies, as well as he himself, had beenunder the impression that the revolver was still loaded. What would havebeen his fate had they known the truth?
He began to search for Govind Singh's body. The veteran risaldar hadceased to breathe; he had died as he would have wished, fighting againstodds. The boy had come to regard his grim old comrade with an affectionthat had been returned by the risaldar. The other Sikhs were also alldead, so fierce had been the hand-to-hand combat; and of the Nana'sfollowing at least a dozen were slain or were dying. One of the latter,a youngster barely sixteen, was regarding the Feringhi with eyes inwhich hatred and a desire to propitiate struggled mutely for mastery.Ted divined the meaning of that look and hastened to hand hiswater-bottle to the sufferer, who greedily gulped the water down andregarded his benefactor with gratitude.
"Tell me," said Ted, "who was he with the saffron shawl?"
"That was the Rajah of Bithur," replied the wounded lad.
With a glance of regret towards the good Arab that had served him sowell, Ted mounted Govind Singh's horse, which was standing beside itsdead master, and sped away to rejoin his comrades, some of whom could beseen in the distance returning from the chase. Colonel Boldre had manyprisoners and several guns to show as the result of the daur, but themain object of the expedition had escaped.
"I was afraid you had been killed, Russell," said he.
"I've lost Govind Singh, the risaldar, and a good many men, sir, and wejust missed the Nana. He unhorsed me, and I should have shot him if I'dhad the sense to reserve a bullet for him."
"Unhorsed you? Dundu Pant himself?" exclaimed the commandant.
Ted reported the affair, and Colonel Boldre, uncertain whether to praiseor blame, remained deep in thought.
"You had a narrow squeak," said he at last.
The Disputed V.C.: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny Page 28
