“They tell me now that if the Khans bring up all their forces, they will put sixty thousand Arabits into the field against us to-morrow,” he said. “Well, be they sixty or a hundred thousand, I’ll fight ’em! It shall be do or die. No Ethiopian muddle for me! I would never show my face again. Well, Heaven grant me to be worthy of my wife and girls, and not disgrace ’em!”
“Sure y’are the first ever mentioned disgrace in the same breath with yourself, Sir Harry,” said Eveleen earnestly. He glowered at her.
“Young troops—never saw a fight before, and a leader with no experience of high command! The Duke’s battles were ended when he was ten years younger than I—Napoleon’s the same. Yet there’s a kind of elation in the delightful anxiety of leading an army—and such an army—against a force twenty times its number. How many proud Arabits will have bit the dust by this hour to-morrow! But who am I, to dare to rejoice in the prospect of taking life, instead of lamenting the grievous necessity? At least I have done my utmost to avoid bloodshed—even Bayard admits it.” He had been talking as if to himself, but his tone changed suddenly. “Well, well; a bit more writing and a visit to the outposts, then three hours’ sleep, for I had none last night—some foolish report or other coming in all night long. Get what rest you can, Mrs Ambrose, and you, gentlemen. We march at four.”
The night felt very short to Eveleen, though she must have had at least two hours’ more sleep than the General. It was in that most uncomfortable hour before dawn that she was waked, and it seemed impossible ever to get ready in the cold and the confined space and by the light of a dimly burning lantern. But she was outside at last, in a chill grey light in which figures moved like shadows at first, but gradually became more distinct. Richard brought her a cup of coffee, which was hot and sweet and strong—the very stimulant she needed,—and Brian presented her with a chunk of meat balanced on a biscuit, which required all her attention to get it conveyed safely to her mouth. When it was disposed of, she had leisure to look about. The camp was disappearing amid cracks and creaks; soldiers, servants, camp-followers were running about like ants in a threatened ant-hill. The General, in a sheepskin coat which combined with his spectacles to give him the look of a philosopher turned bandit, was receiving a report from a dark-faced officer with a bushy black beard—Captain Keeling of the Khemistan Horse,—which seemed to make him very angry.
“No sign of the enemy in the shikargahs? Then where on earth have they got to? If their hearts have failed ’em again, I’ll chase ’em to the gate of Qadirabad and out at t’other end! Then Bayard’s expedition will be no use, and I can’t get at him! I wish I had never let him go—robbing me of two hundred of my best sepoys and three invaluable officers. Well, many thanks for the information, Keeling. You are advanced guard now, you know. I needn’t tell you to keep a sharp look-out for the rascals, with all these woods and nullahs about.”
Captain Keeling saluted and rode away, and somehow or other, from a mob falling aimlessly over each other’s feet, the army sorted itself out and into column of route, and the march began. The cavalry ahead and on the flanks may have been able to see where they were going, but the dust they stirred up made a gritty fog in which the infantry toiled along blindly. It was full daylight now, and the sun was growing hot. The General had discarded his woolly coat and carried it before him on the saddle, and Eveleen threw back the veil she had worn to protect her face from the dust, that she might at least be able to breathe. In a brief halt about seven o’clock, Sir Henry conferred with Captain Keeling again, and the Khemistan Horse trotted off briskly on another reconnaissance, their place in the van being taken by a Bengal Cavalry regiment. The army had not long got into motion again before a gun was heard in front, then a regular fusillade, which was repeated at brief intervals.
“He’s found ’em this time!” chuckled Sir Henry, and presently a sowar, his horse in a lather, galloped back and presented a note. The General read it with visible pleasure.
“The Arabits have kept the appointment right enough, gentlemen,” he said to his staff. “They are drawn up behind Mahighar—the very place I fixed on,—a strong position, so Keeling says, with both flanks protected by shikargahs and the front by a deep dry watercourse. He estimates them at twenty thousand at least, with fifteen guns. The Khans are in camp behind a fortified village on their right. He remains under fire to reconnoitre more closely, which will give us time for our part of the business.”
A brief order sent Brian back with the sowar, to bring the latest news, and orderlies were despatched down the column to hurry the loiterers and prevent straggling. Stewart rode ahead with the Engineer officers, who knew exactly what they had to do, and presently the General and his companions arrived at a clump of scraggy trees, round which the ground was being neatly marked out with flags.
“Headquarters,” said Sir Henry laconically. “Ambrose, I shan’t want you at present. You had better find out a nice sheltered place for Mrs Ambrose here on the right somewhere. You won’t be disturbed. That’s where the hospital tents will be, and there are no invalids to-day—as yet. Dare say he don’t want to do anything of the kind,” he added, more audibly than he intended, to Brian; “but hang it! a man does owe some duty to his wife.”