Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East

by George Manville Fenn

“Ah, just in time!” said Brace, for now out to the right of the village we could see a little crowd, and in front of them a party of sepoys, marching towards where the guns were drawn up. “Yes,” he repeated; “just in time. Forward! we shall be first.”

We took our places instantly, and rode out in the formation ordered, and as we advanced, with my Arab dancing beneath me, all excitement to be off, it appeared to me that we were not seen, and that the attention of the rajah was taken up by the advancing party of sepoys, evidently our late prisoners.

But the distance was still too great for me to be sure, and I had no time for thinking.

Then, all at once, I heard a shout, followed by others, and the rajah, who had had his back to us, reined round, and sat looking at us. There was a movement, too, all along the troop, as if men were in a disorderly way drawing their swords without waiting for an order, for there was a flash here and a flash there, the men evidently expecting an attack.

But, as the rajah realised that we were only three, he turned his horse and rode along the front of the troop shouting to his men, who all sat firm, and he turned then, and sat there looking haughty and calm, waiting evidently for what he must have taken as some envoy from his enemies.

And all this time we were rapidly lessening the distance; so were the sepoys, followed by quite a crowd; but they were advancing from the left, and the rajah had ridden to the extreme right, so that the sepoys had a greater distance to go; but they were getting excited now, and had commenced to run.

“You are too late with your news, you black-hearted scoundrels!” cried Brace, loudly, though his words would be heard only by us; and just then my Arab burst out with a loud challenge, followed by one from Brace’s horse, and it was loudly answered by first one and then another of their old friends in the troop, several of which became uneasy and excited.

“Well done, brave lads; neigh again,” cried Brace, excitedly, as we were now not two hundred yards from the row of black faces, while at the end, and twenty yards away, sat the rajah, with a couple more gallantly-dressed officers who had ridden out to him.

“They are waiting for our message, Gil,” cried Brace, wildly. “They shall have it directly. Ready, my lad—steady, horses. Right for the centre; never mind the rajah. Let him wait. Forward!”

We rode right for the centre of the troop drawn up there in the brilliant sunshine, and there it all is now vividly before my eyes as I write, and see myself riding on Brace’s left, and Dobbs the trumpeter just behind him on his right, ever growing nearer at our steady trot, with the opal of the Hindus’ eyes plainer each moment and a wondering expression clearly seen now upon their faces, as if they were asking what it meant.