“We shall have to fight; but not, I hope, till we have had a comfortable meal.”
“I hope the same; but I suppose there’ll be no rest till we’ve had a good set-to and thrashed the ruffians. Why, the country seems to be up in arms against us.”
“Yes,” said Roberts; “it’s a way these genial hill-men have.”
“Fortunately for us it is very thinly peopled,” observed Bracy as they tramped along, seemingly as fresh as when they started.
“Don’t be too sure. We’ve been up among the mountains. Wait till we see the vales.”
But the troubles of the day ceased at sunset, one which was made wonderful with the hues which dyed the mountains of the vast Karakoram range; and when the cooking-fires were out in the cedar grove and the watches were set, officers and men slept well in the aromatic air; even the mules did not squeal and kick so very much in their lines, while the weary camels groaned and sighed and sobbed in half-tones, as if bemoaning their fate as being rather better than usual, for none had been riddled by bullets, fallen, or been beaten overmuch, and their leaders had taken care that they were not overloaded, and that they had plenty to eat and drink. The only men who slept badly were Gedge and Symons, the man whose cheek-bone had been furrowed by a bullet. But even they were cheerful as they talked together in the shelter of a canvas tent, and passed the time comparing notes about their ill-luck in being the first down, and calculating how long it would be before they were back in the ranks.
“Hurt much, matey?” said Gedge.
“Pretty tidy, pardner. How’s your nut?”
“Been easier since the Doctor put the wet rag on it soaked with some stuff or another. Oh, I shouldn’t care a bit, only it keeps on swelling up like a balloon, and it’ll make a fellow look such a guy.”
“Hist!” said the other; “some one coming. The Doctor.”