Charge! Part 53

"What is the matter?" said my companion.

"Not much; only a bit dizzy," I replied; "and my legs feel so awfully stiff and strained that I can hardly stand."

"My head swims too," said Denham. "I am glad to lean against the wall. Ah! Look! here is some one coming with a light."

I uttered a sigh of relief, and then, taking a good deep breath, I gave a hail which brought half-a-dozen men to us, headed by Sergeant Briggs, who uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of surprise as he held up the wagon lantern he carried and let the light fall on our faces.

"Why, you gents haven't run up against that savage sham Paddy, have you?" he cried.

"Yes, Sergeant," said Denham, speaking faintly; "and he got the better of us."

"He has, sir, and no mistake."

"Have you caught him, Briggs?" I asked anxiously.

"No, my lad; I only wish we had. I never saw such shots as our men are! Wasted no end of cartridges, and not one of 'em hit. Did nothing but draw the enemy's fire, and they have been answering in the dark. All waste."

"But Moriarty?" asked Denham.

"Moriarty!" said the Sergeant scornfully. "I'm Morihearty well sick of him, sir. It's all easy enough to see now. Instead of getting away, as we thought, after hammering poor Sam Wren with a stone, my gentleman's been in hiding."

"Yes," I said.

"Yes it is, my lad. Then he's been sneaking about in the dark, going about among the men like a sarpent, and then among the horses, helping himself to the reins with his knife."

"To join together and make a rope to let himself down from the wall," I said.

"That's right, my lad-right as right; and all our chaps asleep, I suppose-bless 'em! They ought to be ashamed of theirselves. There was quite a dozen nice noo reins missing, and half of 'em gone for ever."

"Not quite, Sergeant," said Denham; "take your light and look carefully down yonder."

The Sergeant stared, but did as he was told, holding the lantern low down by the crossing-stone.

"Well, I am blessed!" he cried. "Here, one of you, come and loosen this knot and coil the ropes up carefully.-But, I say, Mr Denham, how did they come there?"

Denham told him briefly of our adventure, and of what we surmised.

He whistled softly, and then said, "Why, I wonder you're both alive. You do both look half-dead, gentlemen; and no wonder. This accounts for one lot, though. The others were tied together and one end made fast to a big stone-a loose one atop of the wall. He must have slid down there and got away. I never saw such sentries as we've got. All those cartridges fired away, and not one to hit. Why, they ought to have pumped him so full of lead that he couldn't run. Run? No; so that he couldn't walk. But you two must come to the Colonel and let him know."

"No, no! Take us to Dr Duncombe," said Denham.

"Afterwards, sir."

"Then you must carry me," said Denham, with a groan.

"Right, sir.-Here, two of you, sling your rifles and dandy-chair your officer to the Colonel's quarters. Two more of you serve young Moray same way."

"No," I said, making an effort. "One man give me his arm, and I'll try to walk."

"So will I," said Denham, making an effort. "That's right, Val; we won't go into hospital, only let the doctor stick a bit or two of plaster about our heads for ornament. Now then, give me an arm."

The result was that we mastered our suffering, and were led by the Sergeant's patrol to the officers' rough quarters. The first thing the Colonel did was to summon the doctor, who saw to our injuries, while Denham unburdened himself of our adventures, my head throbbing so that I could not have given a connected narrative had I tried.

Denham protested stoutly afterwards that there was no need for the doctor's proposal that we should be sent to the hospital to be carried into effect, and appealed to the Colonel.

"Look at us both, sir," he said. "Don't you think that after a good night's sleep we shall both be fit for duty in the morning?"

"Well, Mr Denham, to speak candidly," was the reply, "you both look as dilapidated as you can possibly be; so you had better obey the doctor's orders. I give you both up for the present."

Denham groaned, and I felt very glad when a couple of the Sergeant's guard clasped wrists to make, me a seat; and as soon as I had pa.s.sed my arms over their shoulders their officer gave the word, and we were both marched off to the sheltered hospital, where I was soon after plunged in a heavy stupor, full of dreams about falling down black pits, swinging spider-like, at the end of ropes which I somehow spun by drawing long threads of my brains out of a hole in the back of my head, something after the fashion of a silkworm making a coc.o.o.n.

Then complete insensibility came on, and I don't remember anything. But on the day following Denham and I lay pretty close together, talking, and looking up at the sky just above, one of the wagon-tilt curtains being thrown back.

Chapter Thirty Seven.

A Hospital Visitor.

"Hang being in hospital!" Denham said over and over again. "I seem to be always in hospital. There never was such an unlucky beggar."

I sighed deeply.

"It is miserable work," I said.

"Yes; and it seems so absurd," said Denham. "There's something wrong about it."

"Of course," I said; "we're wounded, and suffering from the shock of what we've gone through."

"Gammon!" said Denham. "That wouldn't knock us up as it has. We both got awful toppers on the skull; but that wouldn't have made us so groggy on the legs that we couldn't stand."

"Oh, that's the weakness," I replied.

"My grandmother! It's your weakness to say so. We're made of too good stuff for that. Why, you were as bad as I was when the hospital orderly washed us. Bah! How I do hate being washed by a man!"

"Better than nothing," I said. "We can't have women-nurses."

"No," said Denham. "But what was I saying when you interrupted so rudely? Really, Val Moray, I shall report your behaviour to the Colonel. You're not respectful to your officer. You're always forgetting that you are a private."

"Always," I replied, with what was, I fear, a very pitiful smile, for my companion looked at me very sympathetically and shook his head.

"Poor old chap!" he said; "I am sorry for you. There, he shall be disrespectful to his officer when he isn't on duty. I say, old chap, I wish you and I were far away on the veldt shooting lions again. It's far better fun than fighting wild Boers."

"What a poor old joke!" I said.

"Best I can do under these untoward circ.u.mstances, dear boy," he said. "Yes, it's a 'wusser.' I wish I could say something good that would make you laugh. But to 'return to our muttons,' as the French say. About being so weak. You and I have no business to shut up like a couple of rickety two-foot rules when we are set up on end. It's disgusting, and I'm sure it's old Duncombe's fault."

"No, you're not," I said.