“Very true. We shall soon see. Those bands must disperse—or be dispersed—before the treaty is signed. We have ample force to meet any resistance they can offer. But sixty thousand! No, my dear Ambrose, I can’t credit such a figure as that. I know you have gathered it precious carefully from the reports of our spies—but after all, what trust can you put in the word of a spy? Oh, I know I make use of ’em, but I discount their reports pretty shrewdly. So don’t be frightened, ma’am”—with a benevolent smile at Eveleen—“by your good man’s dark forebodings. I’ll tell you this, Lord Maryport offered me additional troops either from the Upper Provinces or Bombay, or both, and I refused ’em. So you see what I think about it—eh?”
“Frightened!” said Eveleen, in high scorn. “And pray why would I be frightened, Sir Harry?”
“Why, indeed? But don’t think I blame your prudence, Ambrose,” noting the younger man’s silence. “From my soul I believe I have men enough to cope with any force the Khans can bring against us. To have asked for more would have meant delay—two months, three months, four, perhaps,—and there we are landed in the middle of the hot weather. You yourself have told me what that means for military operations here—not a soldier, European or native, able to show his nose on the parade-ground by daylight, men struck down by the dozen in a march of a few miles. No, if we have to fight, we’ll fight at once—the sooner the better, so long as Stewart has got back. I’m sure they have given me pretexts enough, if there’s any humbug about signing the treaty, and they know what I think about ’em—eh?”
“They must be uncommonly stupid if they don’t, General.”
“But that’s what they are—sodden with drink and drugs. If my letters don’t wake ’em up a bit—— See here, ma’am, if this don’t strike you as rayther neat. Twice in this last day or so poor Ambrose has had to write to Gul Ali for me. The young bloods have been talking big about burning our camp over at Bori there, and I knew their besotted elders might well be induced to give such an order over-night, and in the morning forget all about the matter and deny giving it. So I told Gul Ali that if I heard any more of night attacks on my camp he and the rest would be made to look precious silly, for not only would every one that tried it get killed, but I should march on Qadirabad and destroy it, leaving only the Fort standing, to show my respect for their Highnesses, for all they couldn’t keep their people in order. So they know what to look forward to now.”
“But sure they’ll not see the joke,” said Eveleen sorrowfully. “They will be too stupid, the creatures!”
“Well, this will touch ’em, I imagine. Gul Ali has had his emissaries in Bori since the first detachment crossed there, bribing our men to try and get ’em to desert. They have not been able to do it so far, but it don’t answer to let that sort of thing go on. So I gave the old fellow a friendly tip. He was paying his men to corrupt mine, believing he was getting good value for his money, says I. Well, he was being choused right and left. When any money did pass from his chaps to mine, they brought it straight to me, but he might take my word for it that most of it went in high living and never came near the troops at all. That ought to make a little unpleasantness between the old villain and his precious tools—eh?”
“He ought be feeling terribly small,” agreed Eveleen. “But he will not be any fonder of you for that, Sir Harry.”
“That, ma’am, is a consideration which I can safely assert never held back any Lennox that ever lived from saying a neat thing when he had it to say,” returned the General, with perfect truth.
The next day the station enjoyed a mild excitement, for Stewart came in by land, attended only by his orderly and personal servants, whereas he had gone down to Qadirabad by steamer, with an escort of thirty of the Khemistan Horse. At first people thought there had been another Ethiopian disaster, resulting in another sole survivor, but it soon became known that the escort were returning safe and sound by water, while Stewart had taken the quicker land route that the General might be aware as soon as possible of the true state of affairs. Yet the situation was not made much clearer by his report. It was true that the Khans had not rejected the treaty, though the Vakils they were sending to Sahar were empowered rather to complain of their wrongs than to sign on their behalf. But Stewart had had great difficulty in getting away, after being insulted in the streets and coldly received in durbar, and on his return journey he had only avoided having to fight his way by exercising extreme self-restraint masked by ferocious bluff. He found an enemy in every Arabit he met, and his life was in danger more than once, but the Khemis crowded to him in secret to express their longing that the British would take over the country, though in the presence of their masters they appeared indifferent or hostile. To him it seemed impossible to doubt that the Khans meant to fight, and that the Vakils, if they ever arrived, were intended merely to stretch out matters and gain time for their employers; but Sir Harry was not to be hurried. He would go on massing his troops at Bori, but nothing should induce him to take the first hostile step. His moderation seemed to be justified when, two days after Stewart, the Vakils arrived, though there was little satisfaction to be obtained from them. Possibly the Khans had come to an end of their excuses, for their sole answer to Sir Harry’s charges was to deny them all—adding that guiltless and oppressed as they were, they had no resource but to sign the treaty forced upon them. Perhaps they knew that this was their best way of dealing with the General, who was thrown into a perfect frenzy by finding himself accused of injustice, and laboured for hours to convince the messengers—and through them their masters—that they were being dealt with leniently rather than oppressively. He might even have consented to refer the treaty back to Lord Maryport, with the modifications the Vakils proceeded humbly to suggest, had the Khans possessed sufficient common-sense to maintain their pose of injured innocents. But stimulated perhaps by his apparent gullibility, they struck out a new line of annoyance, holding up the dâks and robbing the mails, with the result that every trace of meekness and compassion vanished, and Sir Harry sent off a sledge-hammer letter to Gul Ali, ordering him instantly to disband his troops, with the alternative of immediate war. It might have been supposed that this time the Khans were confronted with a straight issue that could not be evaded, but that they were not yet destitute of wiles was clear one morning when Richard was summoned before daylight to attend his chief. Brian, coming to the edge of the office verandah to bid him hurry, added a whispered word of warning.