A miserable letter indeed. The dream of sovereignty had come to an end with that salute of welcome to John Nicholson.
[BOOK V.]
"THERE AROSE A MAN."
[CHAPTER I.]
FORWARD.
"Are you here on duty, sir?" asked a brief, imperious voice. Major Erlton, startled from a half dream as he sat listlessly watching the target practice from the Crow's Nest, rose and saluted. His height almost matched the speaker's, but he looked small in comparison with the indescribable air of dominant power and almost arrogant strength in the other figure. It seemed to impress him, for he pulled himself together smartly with a certain confidence, and looked, in truth, every inch a soldier.
"No, sir," he replied as briefly, "on pleasure."
A distinct twinkle showed for a second in General Nicholson's deep-set hazel eyes. "Then go to your bed, sir, and sleep. You look as if you wanted some." He spoke almost rudely; but as he turned on his heel he added in a louder voice than was necessary had he meant the remark for his companion's ear only, "I shall want good fighting men before long, I expect."
If he did, he might reckon on one. Herbert Erlton was not good at formulating his feelings into definite thoughts, but as he went back to the peaceful side of the Ridge he told himself vaguely that he was glad Nicholson had come. He was the sort of a man a fellow would be glad to follow, especially when he was dead-sick and weary of waiting and doing nothing save get killed! Yes! he was a real good sort, and as even the Chaplain had said at mess, they hadn't felt quite so besieged on the Ridge these last two days since he came. And, by George! he had hit the right nail on the head. A man wasn't much good without sleep.
So, with a certain pride in following the advice, Major Erlton flung himself on his cot and promptly dozed off. In truth he needed rest. Sonny Seymour's safe arrival in camp two nights before, in charge of a Bunjârah, from whom even Hodson had been unable to extract anything--save that the Agha-sahib had forgotten a letter in his hurry, and that the mem was safe, or had been safe--had sent Major Erlton to watch those devilish walls more feverishly than ever. Not that it really mattered whether Kate was alive or dead, he told himself. No! he did not mean that, quite. He would be awfully glad--God! how glad! to know her safe. But it wouldn't alter other things, would not even alter them in regard to her. So, once more he waited for the further news promised him, with a strange indifference, save to the thought that, alive or dead, Kate was within the walls--like another woman--like many women.