And now that the sepoy regiments were proving false right and left, what Asiatic corps except the Guides could be trusted so near the head-quarters of the rebels? John Lawrence would take good care that no doubtful regiments should be sent to Delhi, and that no Mussulman nor Brahman of the Bengal army should be given such an excellent chance of turning traitor at the critical moment.
The strangers drew nearer, and the camp turned out to meet them. Then the word passed from lip to lip that these were the Gurkhas—Reid’s Gurkhas.
“It’s the Sirmur Battalion, Alec,” said Ted; and he executed a little pas seul to proclaim his delight.
“Who are they?” asked some of the Tommies. “Where ’ave they come from? Can they fight?”
“Fight? Can’t they just!” replied one of the knowing ones, a sergeant with a dozen years’ Indian experience. “They come from Dehra Dun, up in the hills.”
“I wouldn’t give a dog-biscuit for all the native regiments in India,” a young private declared. “They’re all rotten with treachery.”
“You’ll never be commander-in-chief, Sammy,” the sergeant retorted. “You know a dashed sight too much, and yet not ’arf enough. If you wasn’t so ignorant you’d know that these Gurkies ain’t natives but furriners in Injia same as us, livin’ in a furrin country called Nepal, up amongst the Himalayas, which you’ve never ’eard on, I dare say. And the Gurky king ain’t a subject of the queen, like the Injian rajahs and nawabs and nizams and such, but free and independent, like voters at an election. I’ve fought side by side with ’em, Sammy, and they’re as good pals on a battle-field as any chaps from Battersea.”
Ted and Alec laughed at the sergeant’s harangue, and strolled down the road to meet the reinforcements. The short-legged, tough, little Gurkhas were almost dropping from fatigue and heat. They had marched many, many miles that day under the scorching Indian sun, and they were no more accustomed to the heat of the plains than were their British comrades.
“Hurrah for the Gurkies! Three cheers for the little ’uns!”
The cry was taken up by hundreds of the red-coats, who were now lining both sides of the road, cheering again and again as the weary Mongolians marched sturdily through their ranks with soldierly swagger. The little fellows grinned and tried to cheer and joke in return, but, being dead beat and almost famishing, the attempt was a failure. Many British soldiers ran out to help their new allies along, by lending the support of an arm or shoulder.