On this Sergeant Linham drew himself up to his full height, and twirling his heavy moustache said, ‘Ha, hum! you ugly, snub-nosed, cross-eyed son of a gun, we’re British soldiers representing Queen Victoria. Stand aside and allow us to enter, or we shall exercise the right of soldiers in an enemy’s country and help ourselves.’
The grandiloquent fashion in which these words were uttered seemed to have some effect upon the Tartar; possibly the sergeant’s piercing eyes and beak-like nose, together with the medals on his breast and the gold chevrons on his arms, had more, for the Tartar’s next words sounded less harsh. He did not, however, move from the door.
The worthy sergeant, tapping the hilt of his sabre, continued, ‘You thieving old rogue, do you dare to stand there still, barring our progress? Don’t you understand that by doing so you’re defying me, and through me the whole army, and through the army Britain itself? You putty-faced rat, you’re dealing with a man who’s fought in two campaigns and knows the usages of war—ha, hum!’ and the sergeant gave a terrific snort.
The snort completely overcame the Tartar, who, bowing low, stood aside, and Sergeant Linham, carrying himself with the air of a general at least, entered the house, while the other three followed behind, almost bursting themselves in their efforts to restrain their laughter.
They went into a large, stone-flagged room, and Sergeant Linham, pointing to the table, then made signs that he and his companions were hungry and that they wanted food. The man shook his head violently; but Sergeant Linham was not to be denied.
‘Look round the place, boys,’ he said, ‘and see if you can find any prog. We are willing to pay for it; but something to eat we must have. We’re soldiers in the enemy’s country, and we’ve a right to what we can find; at least we had in India, and what was good enough there is good enough here—ha, hum!’
In a hen-roost behind the farm the two trumpeters found a lot of eggs, and these they promptly annexed. Pearson, who had joined them, noticed a large barn, and he suggested they should put their horses in there, which they proceeded to do. Then they went into the house with their eggs, which Sergeant Linham made signs to the man that he should have fried. Some bacon was produced, and a sullen-looking Tartar maid set about cooking the same. Coffee was made, and the meal was being rapidly prepared when a tremendous uproar was heard outside, and a little, thin, horribly ugly woman, who was clearly the mistress of the house, bounced in. Her husband had seemed voluble, but he was as nothing compared with his gentle spouse. She stormed, roared, jumped, shook her skinny fists in the faces of the Lancers, and finally attempted to snatch the pan from the fire; but this Sergeant Linham positively refused to let her do.
He caught hold of her to prevent her, when she turned on him like a fury and scored his face with her nails.
‘For Heaven’s sake, boys, take this she-demon away,’ he yelled; but the woman held on, scratching and clawing and calling out apparently to her husband to assist her. He, however, kept in the background, until the woman, from sheer exhaustion, left off fighting and talking, and bounced out of the room.
The sergeant’s dislike of women was well known, and the trumpeters could not conceal their amusement at the scene, though they were sorry for poor Linham.