“Where shall I find Ensign Russell?” enquired a messenger from head-quarters as he approached the outpost. Ted was quickly found, and his agitation may be imagined when he learned that General Nicholson had sent for him. Nervously, reverently, and full of sorrow, he entered the tent. The somewhat stern and haughty look, so well known to all evil-doers who had chanced to cross his path, had vanished from the great man’s countenance as he greeted the boy.
“So, young man, you’ve escaped unwounded?”
“Yes, sir, ... at least only very slightly.”
“Ah, your arm, I see!” began the general. “Perhaps you can guess why I sent for you? Somehow I took a strange liking to you that day I arrived on the Ridge, ... though I ought not to approve of disobedience,” continued the wounded man, smiling.
Ted bent his head and was silent.
“You are the son of Major-general Russell, I hear? I knew your father well. I served with him in Afghanistan, and he will be a proud man when he hears that by an act of conspicuous bravery you perhaps averted a disaster to a whole column.”
John Nicholson was silent for a few moments before resuming:
“I have since heard how you distinguished yourself when your regiment mutinied. You have begun well, keep on in the same way. Put duty first, and your country may one day be proud of you, as she is to-day of Tombs and Brind and Reid.”
Here the wounded general was interrupted by the entrance of Sir Archdale Wilson, who, with grave and anxious face, had come to enquire as to the condition of his second in command.
Nicholson turned to him.