"I have never been to England. I was born out here. My father was a captain in the 32nd Punjabis, and was killed in an attack on a hill fort. That was some months ago, and I remained with the regiment, whose quarters had always been my home, until there should be an opportunity for my being sent down to Calcutta."
"Well, it is very decent of the War Office to give you a commission; though, of course, it is the right thing to do--but it is not often that they do the right thing. Your regiment did some sharp fighting on their way up to Chitral, but of course you saw nothing of that."
"Yes; I accompanied the regiment."
"The deuce you did!" the colonel said. "I wonder you managed to get up with it, or that Colonel Kelly gave you leave. I certainly should not, myself, have dreamed of taking a civilian with me on such an expedition."
Lisle nodded.
"The colonel did not give me leave, sir. With the aid of one of the native officers, with whom my father was a favourite, I obtained a native uniform; and went through the campaign as a private."
The officers all looked upon him with astonishment.
"Do you mean to say that you cooked with them, fought with them, and lived with them, as one of themselves?"
"That was so, sir; and it was only at the last fight that the truth came out, for then one of the officers heard me make a remark to myself, in English. Fortunately, the native officers gave a very good account of my conduct. I was one of a small party that descended a cliff with ropes, and did a good deal towards driving the Chitralis out of their position."
"But how was it that you were not recognized by the soldiers?"