“I’m no objeckin’ to their bravery,” returned the Scot. “They did the best they could; but what was to be expeckit o’ a wheen men that was dragged to the field against their wull, an’ made to fecht afore they weel kent hoo to use their airms?”
“Anyhow they gave us a chance to show what British soldiers can do,” said Rattling Bill.
“An’ sure there’s plenty more where they came from to give us another chance,” said Flynn.
“That’s true, boys. Three cheers for the heroes of Tel-el-Kebir, dead and livin’!” cried Armstrong, setting the example.
The response was prompt and hearty, and for a few moments a forest of white helmets waved in the air.
The enthusiasm was not allowed to cool, for the next station was Kassassin, where the Life Guards and our cavalry made their midnight charges; and where there occurred, perhaps, one of the longest day’s fighting in the war of 1882. Here, also, they saw the graves of the poor fellows who fell at that time, but the sight did not depress the men much. The somewhat lugubrious Sutherland alone seemed to take a serious view of such matters.
“It’s a’ vera weel for licht-hearted lads like you to laugh an’ cheer,” he said, “but there’s naething mair certain than that some o’ you that’s laughin’ an’ cheerin’ yenoo, an’ boastin’ o’ lickin’ the Soudan neegers, ’ll fill sandy graves afore lang.”
“You don’t know that, Scotty. Pr’a’ps we’ll all escape and return to old England together,” said one of his comrades.
“Arrah! if I did git into wan o’ the sandy graves ye spake of,” remarked Flynn, “I do belaive I’d rise out of it just for the pleasure o’ contradictin’ you, Sutherland.”
“H’m! nae doot. Contradictiousness whiles maks fowk lively that wad be dull an’ deed eneuch withoot it. But did onybody iver hear o’ a reg’ment gaun’ oot to the wars an’ comin’ back jist as it went? That’s the question—”