Ted was quickly beside his fallen cousin, and gave a little cry of joy on finding that Charlie still breathed. The cry was echoed by the Gurkhas, who started in pursuit now they were assured of their officer’s safety, but Ted restrained them. Dorricot’s hand still grasped the colours for whose capture he had risked so much, for which he might yet have to pay with his life.
Ted signed to the Gurkhas to help him carry back their wounded officer. Motiram Rana proffered his aid, but Thompson motioned him back, saying:
“Tha needs carryin’ thysen, Johnny; tha’rt bleedin’ like a stuck pig.”
Up came Major Reid, bringing his men forward at the double from another part of the battle-field where the enemy’s rout had been complete. His face fell as he caught sight of his sorely-stricken comrade.
“The rash fellow!” exclaimed the commandant. “He had no right to push the pursuit so far with such a handful. I cannot spare Dorricot. Carry him gently; and you, Paterson, run and bring a doctor to the house.”
Right glad was Ted, and hardly less glad were the Gurkhas, when the doctor promised hope in spite of no fewer than four sword or bayonet wounds.
“I have not an unwounded officer left, youngster!” exclaimed Major Reid dolefully. “Would you care to serve with me again?”
“There’s nothing I should like better, sir.” And then the boy paused. “Except that I should be sorry to leave the Guides.”
“Well, go to Daly; he’s better off for officers than I am, and ask if he’ll transfer you for a few days.”
Ted obeyed. Permission was granted, and he again found himself with the Sirmuris.