The ordeal over, Spencer, Paterson, and Ted returned to the little bungalow, and settled down to await Jim’s arrival. Lieutenant Spencer filled his pipe and lay back in the one chair that the apartment boasted, Paterson sat straddle-legged across a camp-stool, and Ted squatted on a box with his back to the wall and his legs dangling. The room was lighted by a candle stuck in a bottle, for were they not in the “Gorgeous East” where luxury and splendour reign supreme?
“So you fellows of the 193rd are proud of your regiment!” the Guides’ officer observed.
“It’s a first-class corps,” Ted replied. “They fought like good ’uns throughout both Sikh wars. You see, we’ve Bhurtpore as well as Sobraon, Moodkee, and Gujerat on the colours; and the colonel says he’d lead ’em anywhere—they’d follow their officers to the death. Markham’s the favourite with the men, though they’re very fond of the ‘old man’ and Major Munro.”
“Yours is a queer corps, is it not, Lieutenant Spencer?” Paterson asked.
Spencer chuckled.
“It is! But I’m proud of being in the Guides.”
“They say,” continued the Scotch boy, “that you have all the frontier races in the corps—Afridis, Afghans, and other Pathan tribes, Sikhs and Gurkhas—and that some of them have been robbers and outlaws, and murderers even. Is that true?”
Spencer chuckled still more.
“Quite true. We have all sorts—men with the best of characters, men with the worst, and men with no characters at all. We’ve outlaws and dacoits, thieves and murderers—though they don’t call themselves murderers; they resemble the border raiders of Scotland of some hundreds of years ago. But every man who joins the Guides has to be strong, healthy, active, brave as a lion, able to track like a Red Indian, climb mountains, and think for himself. Lumsden gets hold of the most daring men on the border, such as Dilawur Khan and Futteh Khan and Bahram Khan, and makes Guides of them. They don’t get coddled; and I guess we shall have more work to do in the future than any regiment in India. We’ve men of all races and creeds and men of no race or creed—mostly big truculent Pathans, and nearly a hundred jolly little Gurkhas sent us by the King of Nepal at Sir Henry Lawrence’s request. Oh, it’s a grand corps! and we can get as many men as we like—scores apply for every vacancy. Why, there are dozens of fellows learning the drill at their own expense, both cavalry and infantry, waiting for an opportunity to join us. There’s no other regiment in India or England can say the same.”
“Well, I’d rather serve in the 193rd B.N.I.,” Ted declared. “I shouldn’t care to trust your Guides very far. Why, many of your Sikhs must have fought against us eight years ago; and as for the Afridis and Yusufzais, they’re always raiding British territory and killing our men, whilst the sepoys of the 193rd have fought under British colours for half a century.”