Brace ordered the men to lie down while he focussed his glass, and examined the men from the edge of the tope, afterwards handing the glass to me as I watched the white-clothed party about a quarter of a mile away, evidently making straight for the wood.
“What do you make of them, Gil?”
“Sepoys,” I said; “nine of them, all with muskets and bayonets, evidently coming to occupy this place.”
“Yes,” he said; “we must repulse them. Gil, this is a godsend. I want every man I have to fight. These are scoundrels from one of the revolted regiments.”
“And this is to be a bit of practice for our men?”
“No, boy; we can trap the dogs without fighting. Can’t you see what I want?”
“No.”
“Bearers for poor Craig’s dhooly. Here they are—two sets; one for relief.”
I uttered a cry of delight, and then after making sure by which track the sepoys would come up to the tope, a dozen men were placed in ambush with orders not to move till the native soldiers had passed them, and then to cut off their retreat when they found enemies in front.
The arrangements were cleverly made, our men lying down among the bushes; and, in perfect ignorance of the reception awaiting them, the sepoys came on with their muskets shouldered; and in a careless, easy-going way, as they came on talking loudly, they drew and fixed bayonets.