It was the morning of the 9th of June when the Guides reached the camp on the Ridge, two miles north-west of Delhi. They marched in as firm and light as if they had come but a mile instead of thirty. News of their great achievement had been brought in by native couriers, and a vast crowd was assembled to meet these intrepid warriors who had covered five hundred and eighty miles in twenty-two days. As they reached the lines, Ahmed was amazed to see some of the infantry break their ranks and rush up to an English officer distinguished by his very fair hair. They clung to his stirrups, some kissed his hands, others his feet, pressing upon him with such excitement as to cause alarm to some of his fellow-officers.
"What is it?" asked Ahmed of Sherdil.
"'Tis that they are pleased to see Hodson Sahib. He was our commander when Lumsden Sahib went over the black water, and we love him. Wah! he is a fighter. See him with the sword: there is no match for him. It is good to see him again."
And then came an opportunity for these hardy warriors to show the stuff of which they were made. Even as they approached the Ridge a staff-officer galloped to meet them, and accosting Captain Daly asked how soon he could be ready for action.
"In half-an-hour," replied the gallant captain.
It happened that since early morning parties of horse and foot had sallied from Delhi to attack the advanced posts of the British. Since attack is ever the best defence, General Barnard ordered his men to move out and drive back the enemy. The Guides went forward at the trumpet call with irresistible dash, and were soon engaged hand to hand with the vastly superior numbers of the mutineers. They carried all before them, but at a heavy price. Lieutenant Battye was shot through the body, and died murmuring "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori." Lieutenant Hawes was clipped across the face with a sword, Lieutenant Kennedy was wounded in the arm; and Captain Daly himself, after having his horse killed under him, was struck in the leg by a spent bullet. Many of the men were killed or wounded. But to be in the thick of a fight was as wine to the Guides. Every man burned to uphold the honour of the corps, and though they were saddened by the loss of so many officers and men before they had even pitched their tents, they were conscious of having borne themselves as their loved commander Lumsden Sahib would have wished them to do, and were content.
CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
Some Lathi-wallahs and a Camel
One afternoon, about ten days after the arrival of the Guides, an orderly came to Captain Daly's tent, where the captain was sitting on a camp-stool at the door, drinking a cup of tea with Lieutenant Kennedy.