The blood gushed in a torrent from his mouth, and in another second he was dead.
The enemy made no further demonstrations against Yankowfum, and by nightfall the post had almost regained its normal condition. It had been an eventful day for Herbert Larkins, and one likely to lay the foundation of his fortunes; for his gallant conduct did not pass unnoticed.
Early the next morning the staff colonel returned and heard a full account of the fight. Herbert was too modest to descant upon his own deeds, but Dr. McCosh and the others described in glowing terms the story of the defence and of Herbert’s brave attempt to save Farrington’s life.
‘You ought to have the Cross for this,’ said the colonel, a quiet self-contained man, rising for the moment into enthusiasm. ‘You deserve the Victoria Cross, and a commission, too. I’ll do my best to help you to both.’
He was as good as his word. Before the Duke’s Own left the Coast the Gazette contained both announcements, and Herbert Larkins was now ‘an officer and a gentleman’ at last.
[CHAPTER III.]
MAKING THE AMENDE.
There was terrible grief at Farrington Hall when the news came home of the death of the son and heir. Poor silly Lady Farrington was quite broken-hearted. Had she had her way Ernest would never have gone to the wars. Moreover the circumstances under which he left made matters infinitely worse. He was at home, as we know, when the regiment got the route, and the orders he received from the Horse Guards were peremptory that he should rejoin without a moment’s delay. The young soldier was not over keen about obeying. Life, in spite of family jars, had just then a peculiar sweetness for him. He had established Mimie in a pretty little villa at Wimbledon, where he spent most of his time. His visits to the Hall, and his stay when he came, were much curtailed, greatly to his mother’s sorrow. Her ladyship knew of his ‘entanglement,’ but quite as a secret, and she was discreetly silent on the subject. She only upbraided her boy for his constant absences.
‘I’th too bad, Ernetht. We thee tho little of you now. You mutht come and thettle down at home. Marry a nithe wife—’