“The whole gang of them, sir; led by Ny Deen.”
“What?” said Brace again.
“It has been a plot, sir, all slowly worked out. That Ny Deen is some big chief, from his ways to-day; and others with him are somebodies. They’ve been watching our drill, and quietly learning everything, till the time came, and then, at some word of command, they rushed in, carried all before them; and, after a way, they’ve gone off with guns, ammunition, and every horse except the officers’, which somehow they overlooked.”
“Is this some horrible dream?” panted Brace.
“No, sir; but horrid wide-awake truth,” said the sergeant, sadly. “Twenty-two of our men cut up, and as fine a troop of horses and battery of guns gone as there is in the army; and as for me, sir, I feel as if I was that disgraced, that if I’d had a carbine, I believe I should have gone up in some corner, said a bit of a prayer, and then—good-bye to it all, and shot myself dead.”
“But the sentries?” said Brace, after an interval, during which we had stood as if utterly crushed by the news. “They could not have been doing their duty.”
“Nay, sir, but they were,” said the sergeant, speaking with energy now, the last words he had uttered having been in a hoarse, broken voice, which told of his sorrow and despair. “Poor chaps! they saw a party of syces coming toward them in white—men they knew well enough. Was it likely, sir, that they’d think them enemies?”
“No,” said Brace, sadly. “Poor lads! poor lads!”
“God save the Queen, sir!” cried the sergeant, hysterically, for the poor fellow was utterly broken down, “and long life to one’s officers, whom I for one would follow anywhere, even to certain death. Yes; I’d have followed him, poor chap. But it was his doing, sir, and the likes of him; and I’ll say it now, even if I’m court-martialled for it. Lieutenant Barton brought it on us. The niggers ’ll bear a deal, but it’s only natural that they’d turn some time; and quiet as Ny Deen was, I’ve seen his eyes flash sometimes when Mr Barton was rating him, and not because he deserved it, for a better groom and a man more proud of turning out a horse well, never came into cantonments.”
“Silence in the ranks,” said Brace, shortly. “Lie down all of you and rest. Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to us, “this way, please. We must consider what is to be done.”