But Ted winked, and, pocketing the letter, once more assumed an aggressive demeanour.
“Pax!” said Alec, retreating. “I’m not going to fight a chap who’s in the habit of exploding gunpowder beneath his opponents. By the way, have you seen our allies?”
“Not yet. Shall we pay them a visit? Come along.”
Among the latest reinforcements were Brigadier Franks’ column and Jung Bahadur’s army from Nepal. Franks had been operating with great effect in Eastern Oudh, from the Nepal border, and his men were mostly Gurkhas, lent by the Nepal Government. They had done excellent service, and had won one or two quite remarkable victories. Jung Bahadur’s force, nearly ten thousand strong, had just come in, and as the army was aware that Sir Colin had been waiting for these Gurkhas, it was expected that the real struggle was about to begin.
The three lieutenants strolled down to the Gurkha camp to inspect the new-comers, and Ted thought of that day on the Ridge when Reid’s little Mongolians were indulging in horse-play with their comrades of the Rifles, and he remembered how one of the Gurkhas had foretold that Jung Bahadur would bring his troops to assist the British. He little thought then that he should be present to witness the arrival of the famous shikarri.
The Nepalese allies did not, in Ted’s opinion, look quite so tough or so soldierly as his friends of the Sirmur Battalion, and their officers compared unfavourably with Merban Sing and Goria Thapa. There was plenty of good material, but the average, though taller in stature, seemed less sturdy and considerably dirtier. These Nepalese were not all the true Magar and Gurung Gurkhas; there was a mixture of other clans and races, with a bigger proportion of Hindu blood. These were not quite so ugly as little “Johnny”, and they did not possess the true military swagger and jolly recklessness. Approaching a group whose faces seemed to bear the right stamp, he addressed them in Magar-Kura, of which tongue Goria Thapa had taught him a smattering.
The Gurkhas were delighted at being spoken to in their own dialect, understood by so few foreigners, and they responded eagerly. He tried to explain how he had served with their brethren at Delhi, and it chanced that when he mentioned the name of his friend Goria Thapa, one of the new arrivals repeated the name, and it turned out that he knew the Sirmur officer, and Ted Russell at once became their blood-brother.
As they conversed, barely half understanding one another, the men round about sprang up to attention, and Alec Paterson nudged Ted in the ribs with his elbow. Turning to see what Alec wanted, he perceived Sir Colin, and by the general’s side rode a distinguished-looking, dark-skinned man, clad gorgeously, and ablaze with diamonds.
It was the Gurkha prince himself, one of the bravest of the brave, as Ted had heard, but by no means a merry, good-natured personage, such as his friends of the Ridge. Jung Bahadur motioned one of the Gurkhas to his side, and, looking suspiciously at Ted, he whispered to the man, who informed him in reply how it came about that this English youth had picked up enough of their language to converse with them.
Sir Colin beckoned Ted to approach, and asked questions similar to those being answered by Jung Bahadur’s informant.