"I stay here," he said shortly. Said it again, even when neither the escaped officers nor men turned up. Said it again, when the guns rolled off toward Meerut, leaving him face to face with a sprinkling of the 74th and 54th, and the mass of the 38th, sullen, but still obedient.
The sun, now some time set, had left a flaming pennant in the sky, barring it low down on the horizon with a blood-red glow marking the top of the dust-haze, and the quick chill of color which in India comes with the lack of sunlight, even while its heat lingers to the touch, had fallen upon all things--upon the red Ridge, upon the distant line of trees marking the canal, upon the level plain between them where all the familiar landmarks of cantonment life still showed clearly, despite the darkening sky. Guard-rooms, lines, bells-of-arms, wide parade-grounds--all the familiar surroundings of a sepoy's life, and behind them that red flare of a day that was done.
"There is no use, sir, in stopping longer," said the Brigade-major, almost compassionately, to the figure which sat its horse steadfastly, but with a despondent droop of the shoulders.
"No possible use, sir," echoed the Staff Doctor kindly. The three were facing westward, for that vain hope of help from the east had been given up at last; and behind them, barely audible, was the faint hum of the distant city. A shaft of cormorants flying jheel-ward with barbed arrow head, trailed across the purpling sky; below them the red pennant was fading steadily. The day was done. But to one pair of eyes there seemed still a hope, still a last appeal to something beyond east or west.
"Bugler! sound the assembly!"
The Brigadier's voice rang sharp over the plain, and was followed, quick as an echo, quick from that habit of obedience on which so much depended, by the cheerful notes.
"Come--to the co-lors! Come quick, come all--come quick, come all--come quick! Quick! Come to the colors!"
Last appeal to honor and good faith, to memory and confidence. But they had passed with the day. Yet not quite, for as the rocks and stones, the distant lines, the familiar landmarks gave back the call, a solitary figure, trim and smart in the uniform of the loyal 74th, fell in and saluted.
In all that wide plain one man true to his salt, heroic utterly, standing alone in the dusk. A nameless figure, like many another hero. Yet better so, when we remember that but a few hours before his regiment had volunteered to a man against their comrades and their country! So sepoy----, of company----, can stand there, outlined against the dying day upon the parade-ground at Delhi, as a type of others who might have stood there also, but for the lack of that cloud of dust upon the Meerut road.
Brigadier Graves wheeled his horse slowly northward; but at the sight the sepoys of the 38th, still friendly to him personally, crowded round him urging speed. It was no place for him, they said. No place for the master.