Draw Swords! Part 18

"Yes," said Wyatt dryly, "it will be a change; so make the most of your comfortable quarters while you can. Next week you may be sleeping on a heap of stones after a supper of nothing to eat and a pannikin of dirty water."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

HANSON PLAYS THE FOOL.

But the weeks rolled by without change, save that d.i.c.k felt himself quite at home in the troop, and was able to hold his own with the rest.

He had more than once asked Wyatt if there was any fresh news, invariably to receive a shake of the head and the reply:

"One never knows."

Sergeant Stubbs had reported his pupil as having pa.s.sed well through the riding-school routine; and this was the princ.i.p.al thing he had to master, for he had come out from college a trained soldier, and his year in a company of foot artillery had prepared him well for his new appointment.

"I shall be glad when we get away from this constant drilling," said d.i.c.k one morning, with a yawn. "I don't think I want to fight, but I should like for us to be going to some of the big cities, so that one could see the rajahs with their grand show and jewellery. I've been out here in India all this time, and seen so little. I say, Wyatt, that was all nonsense about our being ordered up-country."

"Perhaps so; one never knows. You'll see enough some day if you wait patiently," continued Wyatt; "and after you've seen a rajah sitting like a figure of Buddha, dressed up in muslins and cloth of gold, and flashing with diamonds, in his howdah, you'll think what a stupid old woman he looks, and be ready to bless your stars that you weren't born a rajah or nawab or gaikwar out here, but an English gentleman, which, after all, is the finest t.i.tle under the sun."

"Oh, I don't know," said d.i.c.k slowly; "there's something very attractive in show."

"Can't be very comfortable to be going about dressed like a woman."

"I shouldn't dislike one of their jewelled swords."

"Tchah! Our service-blade is worth a hundred of them. Why, there's no grip to them; and as to the jewels, they must be always getting knocked out of the settings. All very well to have under a gla.s.s case. I say, did you hear about your friend the Black Diamond?"

"Bob Hanson? Yes," said d.i.c.k gloomily. "I was in hopes that he was turning over a new leaf."

"Not he."

"It's having leave to go out in the native quarters and getting that abominable arrack. That dose of cells ought to set him right again.

Let's see; he was out again this morning, wasn't he?"

"Oh, yes," said Wyatt derisively; "he was out again last night. Haven't you heard?"

"Heard? Heard what?"

"Oh, of course: you went with Hulton to the Forty-fifth mess last night, and wouldn't know."

"Know what?" said d.i.c.k impatiently. "I never did know any one so slow at telling a story. Is this one?"

"Gently, young fireworks," said Wyatt coolly, "and I'll tell you. Black Bob was to have been out this morning, sober and wise after his last escapade. But he must have had some spirits smuggled in through his cell window, I expect; for, instead of waiting patiently, he must let the stuff get into his head; then he watches his chance, and after knocking at his cell and getting the sentry to open, knocks him down, and makes a bolt of it."

"Oh, the fool, the fool!" cried d.i.c.k angrily.

"Good boy," said Wyatt: "strong, but just. That's just what he is."

"But has he broken barracks?"

"Not he, my dear boy. The sentry objected to being knocked down, so he sat up and fired his carbine."

"He hasn't shot the man?"

"Not he. I dare say he felt savage. Being knocked down hurts a fellow; but, with all his blackguardism, the boys like Black Bob because of the way in which he can fight. Lots of them know how he stands by them in a scrimmage. The sentry only fired his carbine; then the sentry at the gate fired and turned out the guard, and my lord was caught."

"Did he go buck quietly to the cell?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Did he do what?" cried Wyatt, bursting into a roar of laughter. "You should go and look at the guards' uniforms. Tattered, dear boy, tattered. The leg of one fellow's overalls was torn right up from bottom to top, another had his jacket dragged off, and two men have got pairs of the most beautiful black eyes you can imagine."

"Tut, tut, tut!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed d.i.c.k.

"Oh, yes, he went very quietly back to the cells, but they had to sit on him first, three of the lads, for about half-an-hour till he cooled down; and then they had to give him the frog's march--four of them to carry him like on springs, while four more marched alongside, ready to jump on the frog if he tried to hop."

"I never saw that done," said d.i.c.k; "they each take a wrist or an ankle, don't they?"

"That's it, d.i.c.ky, and turn him face downward; and its wonderful how a fellow like that can kick out just like a frog, and drive the bearers here and there. But they got him back safe to his cell, and pitched him in. He's a beauty! Aren't you proud of him?"

"It's disgraceful!" cried d.i.c.k angrily. "Did he hurt the men much?"

"Can't give fellows black eyes without hurting 'em," replied Wyatt, swinging his big legs about as he sat on the table; "but the boys don't bear him any malice for that. What they don't like is having their uniforms damaged."

"What will happen now?"

"Master Bob will have to take the heroic remedy reserved for bad boys."

"What do you mean?"

"p.u.s.s.y," said Wyatt, twisting his abundant moustache.

"The cat? Flogging?"

"That's it, and serve the beggar right. And if that does no good, we shall have to make him a present of his uniform and his liberty after a pleasant little musical ceremony, but his b.u.t.tons and facings will be cut and stripped off. Don't like it, though. Looks so bad before the native troops. I'd rather they put him out of his misery at once."

"What! shoot him?" cried d.i.c.k, with a look of horror.

"Yes; the poor beggar's irretrievably bad. It would be a soldier's death. Better for him than letting him go on disgracing himself, his corps, and the position of the British army out here."

"It's very, very horrible," said d.i.c.k sadly.

"So it is, dear boy; but what can we do? As I've told you before, he has been let off no end of times. Ah, there goes Hulton to have Master Bob haled up before him. Ta-ta."

d.i.c.k waited anxiously for the result of the military, magisterial examination of the previous night's incident, and in due time he encountered Wyatt again.

"Well?" he said anxiously.

Wyatt laughed.