“‘Only,’ General!” said Captain Stewart. “A good many times over.”
“True, but what other troops would have responded as they did? But it should not have been necessary. Upon my soul, gentlemen”—forgetting prudence in his warmth—“if Crosse saved the army, Welborne came within an ace of destroying it. That charge was due an hour before.”
“Ah, we were listening for it—Mr Kenton and I!” cried Eveleen. “‘Why won’t they charge?’ says he, over and over again, and at last it came. But why not before, Sir Harry?”
“Because Welborne ‘thought it right to wait for definite orders——’” the General mimicked the intonation ferociously. “I posted him there with orders to charge the village at all costs if he saw me hard pressed—and he couldn’t see; he must wait to be told. That gallant fellow Keeling was straining at the leash, sending insulting messages to Welborne to try and move him—at last preparing to charge the place with the Khemistan Horse alone, which must have meant their annihilation, when happily the orders arrived which I had snatched a moment in the thickest press of the battle to send, wondering what in the world had taken the cavalry. And then they did go! Straight at the village, contemptuous of the bullets that rained upon ’em, over the nullahs, heedless of emptied saddles, through the guns, sabring the gunners, then through the camp of the Khans, driving its occupants before ’em in headlong flight! Then at last our stubborn antagonists in the watercourse, seeing their rear menaced, gave ground slowly and sullenly, yielding to us reluctantly the blood-stained trench for which we had so long contended. Mrs Ambrose—gentlemen—I give you my word that when I stood in my stirrups and shouted, ‘The enemy are beaten! God save the Queen!’ and my glorious soldiers answered me with three feeble but indomitable cheers, I would not have changed places—Heaven forgive me!—with the Duke after Waterloo!”
No comparison on earth could have meant more to Sir Harry, and his voice trembled as though he feared sacrilege in venturing upon it, but the little company round the table rose up with one accord and cheered him again. The men were too much moved to speak, but Eveleen was never at a loss for words, even while she dashed her tears away with a wet handkerchief.
“And why would you, Sir Harry? Sure the odds were smaller against us at Waterloo than to-day.”
“My dear lady, never say such a thing again. At Waterloo the Duke confronted the greatest commander the world has ever known—and the world itself was the prize. Here I was faced only by an unlettered barbarian, knowing nothing of the lessons of military history, nor skilful enough even to take advantage of an inexperienced adversary commanding young troops. But after to-day I am no longer inexperienced. Last night I wondered whether I could conduct a battle; now I know I can. And my troops are not young soldiers any longer. Now that they have seen the proud Arabit—not in flight, but stalking unwillingly away, with frequent backward looks of hatred and contempt—they may respect him, but they will fear him no longer. Never again will they be checked by such a surprise as that of to-day.”
“But sure there’ll be no more fighting?” she asked in dismay. “Not after a battle like this?”
“What do you say, Ambrose? Have we seen the last of ’em yet?”
“I fear not, General. There are too many left.”