The Disputed V.C.: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Ted's Hopes are raised and dashed to the Ground

  "Have you seen the new arrivals, Ted?" asked Jim, as he came back from avisit to cantonments one day.

  "No, who are they?"

  "Hodson's Horse, the 'Flamingoes' as they've been nicknamed, from thecolour of their sashes. Go down and look at them; they're worth seeing,and so is Hodson, their commandant."

  "Is he the Lieutenant Hodson who once commanded our regiment?" askedTed, who had heard of the famous freelance.

  "That's the man. He got into trouble with the Guides, and now he's beenallowed to raise this regiment of horse."

  So the two chums waited until both were free from duty, and went down tolook at the stalwart Sikh and Pathan horsemen, who afterwards becameknown to fame as the 9th and 10th Bengal Lancers throughout Hindustanand its frontiers, and in China, Egypt, the Soudan, and Abyssinia. Acrowd had gathered round the gaudily-attired "Flamingoes", who sat theirhorses proudly, much gratified by the reception. They were about toexercise the horses.

  "Not so bad," said Ted approvingly; "but not quite up to our Guides--eh,Alec?"

  "They look good soldiers," Paterson replied. "Why,--well, I'm blowed!What's Boldre doing there?"

  "Who?"

  "Claude Boldre! See, that kid on the rat-tailed dun, with a Flamingosash. I left him at school, and didn't even know he'd got a commission.His father's the colonel of a regiment that mutinied recently, I heard.He's a decent sort."

  Paterson walked behind his friend, who had not yet perceived them, anddealt him a sounding smack on the thigh.

  "Come down off that horse, Boldre!" was his salutation. "Do you imagineyourself a Flamingo?"

  "Who are--why, if it ain't Alec Paterson, by all that's wonderful! Howdid you come here?"

  Alec explained briefly, and introduced Ted.

  "Oh, I've heard of you, Mr. Russell," said the horseman, "and I'm proudto meet you."

  "Well, explain what you are doing here in that uniform. Didn't know theyhad ensigns in Hodson's."

  "I'm a loot'nant," laughed Boldre; "that is, temporary rank conferred byJohn Nicholson. I've no commission at all really, but I helped to raisea troop or two of these fellows by sheer good luck."

  "You helped to raise them?"

  "Yes; I'll tell you the story some other time. They had captured me, andwere about to shoot me, when the news of Nicholson's disarming thesepoys at Peshawur came to hand. Then they changed sides cheerfully, andwanted to enlist under Nicholson, and I brought them along to Peshawur.They are rummy beggars! It's first-class being with them. Where are younow--upon the Ridge?"

  Ted explained their position, and Boldre promised to look them up assoon as he could. Hodson then appeared on the scene, and the Flamingoestrotted away.

  Early in July General Barnard died of cholera after a few hours'illness. His successor, General Reed, had to relinquish the commandthrough ill-health before the middle of the month, so Sir ArchdaleWilson was appointed. He was the fourth general who had commanded theforce within the space of ten weeks.

  Now and again Ted was sent by Major Reid to bear his reports to thegeneral in command. On one of these occasions he had no sooner enteredthe head-quarters tent than General Wilson greeted him with the amazingwords:

  "Ensign Russell! This is fortunate, for I was about to send for you."

  "Yes, sir," Ted replied, and wondered what was coming.

  "You distinguished yourself at Aurungpore, I understand?"

  "I was at Aurungpore, sir."

  The general regarded him curiously for a moment before he resumed.

  "Major Munro, who commanded your late regiment after the disablement ofthe colonel, has recommended you for the Victoria Cross. I have lookedinto the matter carefully, and cordially approve the recommendation, sothere is little doubt that you will obtain the decoration. Icongratulate you, Ensign Russell; you acted as an English lad should."

  Sir Archdale Wilson shook hands, and at the same time a man rosepainfully from his chair by the general's side--a man lame and feeble,worn out by disease; a man who should have been in hospital, had not hisspirit been stronger than his body. He grasped the boy's hand, andcordially exclaimed, "Well done, youngster! well done!"

  That man was Colonel Baird Smith, the great engineer, the man in whosehands General Wilson had left all the operations for the capture ofDelhi; the man who was even now forming his great plan and scheming hiswonderful works for the assault.

  Ted left the tent, walking as if in a dream, hardly knowing whether hestood on his head or his feet. The V.C.! He, Ted Russell, to have theV.C.!

  He hurried back to consult with Alec, and it seemed as though every man,horse or foot, officer, private, or humble bhisti, was looking at himand discussing his good fortune. He started and came to himself asClaude Boldre touched him on the shoulder.

  "How do you do, Mr. Russell?" he said. "If you are going up towards theGurkha picket I should like to go with you. Alec Paterson used to be agreat chum of mine at school. Oh! allow me to introduce you toLieutenant Roberts of the Bengal Artillery."

  Ted nodded to Boldre's companion, a young man, slight and short ofstature, with a frank, open countenance that told of an active,intelligent brain, and a brave, true heart. He was attired in thehandsome uniform of the dashing Artillery Corps, and Ted liked his newacquaintance at once.

  "I've only just arrived," said the gunner, "and I want to seeeverything. Tell me all about Hindu Rao's house."

  Glad of the opportunity, the ensign told the story of the Ridge, and fora few moments forgot the V.C.

  "You seem to have enjoyed yourself," Boldre commented.

  Ted blushed. "Well, it has been rather exciting, and you see I've notsuffered. It's different for those fellows who have."

  The artillery lieutenant smiled as he looked at the boy's cheek.

  "You seem to have had one cut at least," he observed.

  "Oh, that was nothing!" Ted replied.

  They had approached the Valley of the Shadow of Death, as a hollow onthe Ridge was called on account of its exposure to the rebel fire, whena shell burst not forty yards away. Ted noticed with admiration thatthough Boldre and he both started as if hit, the gunner officer neverturned a hair, but calmly completed the remark he was making. The boyfelt that he was in the presence of no ordinary man. Before taking hisvisitors into the house Ted pointed out the different gates and bastionsof the city. As they were surveying these, Alec and Charlie came up.Lieutenant Roberts looked steadfastly at the latter and exclaimed:

  "Hullo, ain't you Lieutenant Dorricot?"

  Charlie looked keenly at his questioner.

  "That's my name, but I don't know you from the Grand Mogul."

  "That's not strange; I was only thirteen and in the fourth form at Etonwhen you left. I'm Fred Roberts, and we were both under the same tutor,the Rev. Eyre Young. You were some years older than I, and I chieflyremember you because I admired the way you once gave a jolly goodthrashing to a bully--I forget his name, but he was ill-treating ayoungster."

  Charlie laughed and shook hands, saying, "Turkey Bletcher, you mean! Soyou remember that? What are you doing here?"

  "I've just come. Been with the Movable Column, but applied to come here,and they gave me permission."

  "Are you on the staff?"

  "Yes; I've just applied for the post ofdeputy-assistant-quartermaster-general for artillery, and I've beenlucky enough to get it."

  "So you're the D. A. Q. M. G., are you?" said Dorricot, with somerespect that one so young should have obtained this important post.

  They little thought that this slight and young lieutenant was destinedto become one of Britain's greatest and best-beloved soldiers,Field-marshal Earl Roberts of Kandahar and Pretoria, V.C.

  "So you've been with Nicholson?" said Paterson, who was a great admirerof that frontier hero and demi-god. "He's a wonderful leader, Isuppose?"

  "The finest soldier in the world!" Lieutenant Roberts quietly asserted.


  "Rather!" chimed in Claude Boldre. "He's a grand man. I've been lucky inexperiencing what the Pathans along the frontier think of him. Theyconsider him a sort of second Mahomet."

  "I suppose he's performing miracles in the Punjab," said Alec. "Is itreally true that they worship him as a god?"

  "Up in Hazara," replied the artilleryman, "they've formed a sect calledthe Nikkulseyns, and though Nicholson only thrashed them when theyworshipped him, they considered it an honour to be whipped by him, andthose who didn't get a licking envied their more fortunate neighbours.The fakir who founded the sect bothered Nikkulseyn to give him his oldbeaver hat, and as he received no encouragement, the wily old gentlemanprocured one like it. He then went the round of the shops at the busiesttime of the day, and placed the hat in the doorway, so that none mightleave or enter without removing or kicking it over. When customers wereabout to enter, the fakir called out, warning them not to desecrate thetopi which had been worn by the great and mighty and holy Nikkulseyn.Nicholson was such a power in the land that none dared remove it, and atlast the old fraud consented to take it away on being paid one rupee bythe shopkeeper. He would thereupon proceed to another shop and repeatthese tactics. When Nicholson heard of this he gave the fakir and hisdisciples a sound hiding all round, but they only sang hymns of praiseto him."

  "He was worshipped in Bunnu almost as much as in Hazara, was he not?"enquired Paterson; and Claude Boldre replied:

  "Yes, he was both worshipped and feared. Before he went there, an orphanboy had been cheated out of his land by his guardian uncle, namedAllodad Khan. A few years later the young man went to law in order torecover his property, but Allodad Khan, who was a rich powerful man, hadbribed and threatened all the village, and none would give evidenceagainst him. Nicholson heard of this, and guessed how matters stood. Onemorning, just after dawn, a villager, going out early, was spell-boundat seeing Nicholson's well-known white mare cropping the grass outsidethe village. He ran back and breathlessly told the news. All theinhabitants turned out to gaze, and someone quickly perceived Nicholsonhimself tied to a tree close by. Their first thought was to run away,but a few plucked up sufficient spirit to go tremblingly to thecommissioner's aid. In terrible wrath Nicholson asked who had dared totreat him like this. They bowed before him, but so terrified were theythat no one could answer. 'Whose land is this, then?' he demanded. 'Theowner of the land is responsible.' The villagers pointed to AllodadKhan, who fell on his knees, declaring, 'No, no, sahib, the land is mynephew's. He is responsible for the outrage.' Nicholson sternly made himswear to this before the whole village, and then the ruffian saw thathe'd been made a fool of. So the nephew got possession of the estate andmoney, and Allodad Khan, finding the village too warm for him, went on apilgrimage to Mecca."

  "He must be a wonderful man," Alec murmured half to himself. "I wishhe'd come to Delhi."

  "He will," said Claude Boldre. "He as good as told me so when he sent meoff with the Flamingoes."

  Ted was all impatience to impart his great news, but modesty forbade himwhile the strangers were present. The two visitors having inspected thedefences of the famous mansion, and criticised most favourably theappearance of the Rifles, Guides, and Gurkhas, took their departure.

  "The general's told me that I'm to have the V.C., Alec," Ted whispered.

  "Honour bright?"

  Our ensign nodded.

  "Congratulations, old man,--and I think you deserved it. Ensign Russell,V.C.!... Splendid, Ted!"

  "What's that?" asked Jim, who had joined the group. "You're to have theV.C., young'un?"

  Ted then related what had passed, and Charlie Dorricot thumped himviolently in the small of the back.

  "Well done, Ted!" he shouted excitedly. "I am glad; you deserve it, youcheeky little beggar!"

  Ted being called away for a moment, Jim gravely observed:

  "Well, I'm not so sure that I'm glad. He's having too much luck, andwill be thinking no end of himself unless he's careful. Of course I'mvery proud of him, but I'd have preferred him to win it a few yearslater."

  "Oh, Ted's all right!" Charlie assured him. "He won't be spoiled. He's asterling sort of kid."

  At that moment the subject of the conversation returned, and a pauseensued before the elder brother spoke.

  "Ted, I was just saying that I'm not quite sure whether I am very glador not."

  The ensign's face fell.

  "You won't misunderstand me, old chap, or think I'm jealous, but you'revery young, and too much luck is apt to turn our heads. I'm not sayingthat you didn't deserve it, but don't go about thinking that you're avery wonderful youngster, for there's many an ensign here would havedone the same. If it makes you conceited, Ted, it will be a very badthing for you ever to have won it. But if you're a man, and if you don'tput on 'side', all of us will rejoice in your honours."

  Ted was silent for a few moments, then held out his hand to his brother.

  "I understand, old man; I know there are many who'd have done it, andperhaps done it better. I'll try to remember that."

  "Well done, Ted!" cried his cousin. "I think you'll do, young 'un. Jim'srather inclined to preach, but he's all right."

  Ted and Alec repaired to the Flagstaff Tower, the meeting-place of theBritish camp, situated on the Ridge about a mile north of the Gurkhapicket, overlooking the artillery lines and the head-quarters camp, thelatter being about half a mile farther to the north-west. From theFlagstaff Tower the road ran straight to the Kashmir Gate, and as theground was high and the place well out of range, it was a favourite spotwhence to gaze at the rebel town.

  Ted was very thoughtful, and Alec very silent. The former's ardour hadbeen damped by his brother's speech, and he wondered whether Jim reallywas jealous of his good fortune. He dismissed the idea as unworthy ofJim, whose honour and grit he appreciated fully. Still, it was rather adamper, and he could not help wishing that his brother had been lesscandid.

  It was at the Flagstaff Tower that our friends of the Gurkha picket wereaccustomed to hear the news of the camp. There they learned of manydeeds of valour; of the wonderful daring of Tombs of the Artillery, howhe had rescued his equally brave subaltern, Hills, from certain death,and how he had had five horses shot under him already. "One almost everytime he goes out," commented Ensign Collins of the 8th Foot. It wasthere they had heard of the arrival of Colonel Baird Smith, the chiefengineer. "He's the man who'll take Delhi," a youngster of the "Cokeys"had prophesied; and that lad was not far wrong.

  But on this day the bearers of news from camp wore troubled looks. Someunwelcome tidings had evidently arrived since Ted's visit below.

  "Anything wrong to-day?" Alec anxiously enquired.

  "Cawnpore has fallen, and the black fiends have murdered the wholegarrison, women and children too--the hell-hounds!"

  Ted shuddered as he listened to the details of that awful butchery.

  Edward Russell was a lad who had faults enough, but he had never beencruel. He would not needlessly torture the humblest of God's creatures,yet he felt, as he listened to the horrible tidings, that nothing wouldgive him greater pleasure than the blowing up of Delhi and of everysepoy therein. Unhappily this red-hot indignation was nursed by manyEnglishmen until they forgot the traditions of their race.

  The few hundred Englishmen in Cawnpore had been attacked by Dundu Pant,Rajah of Bithur, better known as the infamous Nana Sahib, a man who hadposed as a civilized Asiatic, an imitator of the English. The garrison,composed of detachments of several regiments, of civilians, and ofofficers whose regiments had risen, was trapped in a position unsuitedto a long defence. After a gallant stand, General Sir Hugh Wheeler wasconvinced that in another day or two all would be over, and for the sakeof the women and children, who numbered more than three hundred, heagreed to make terms. Dundu Pant swore that if they would give up theentrenchment, the guns, and the treasure, he would have them allconveyed in boats down the Ganges to a place of safety. The blackMahratta's promises and protestations deceived them all, and theyembarked. The boats
were taken out into mid-stream, when suddenly abugle blew; the boatmen sprang into the river, and from both banks linesof hidden sepoy marksmen began to pick off the betrayed Feringhis. FourEuropeans escaped to tell the tale. The lucky ones were those who werekilled by the bullets. Many were taken alive from the water, and ofthese the men were murdered at once; the women and children were ledaway to endure a captivity of more than a fortnight's duration. Hearingof Havelock's approach, Dundu Pant then performed the second act of theghastly tragedy which has made his name world-infamous. The poorcaptives, numbering perhaps two hundred, were hacked to death, and theirbodies thrown down a well.

  Small wonder that British blood should boil over when the story wastold; small wonder that the men of the 60th Rifles should shake theirfists as they looked from the Ridge into the rebel capital, towards thedistant palace and home of vice, and should vow vengeance on everyfaithless sepoy, be he Mohammedan like the King of Delhi or Hindu likethe Mahratta rajah.

  And Cawnpore was not the only scene of murder and outrage. The armybefore Delhi was cut off from Calcutta and the Gangetic provinces, andnews did not come every day. But with the tale of the vilest tragedy ofall came also the bad tidings from Allahabad, where the poor ensignswere foully murdered, from Benares and Jhansi, from Fyzabad,Shahjehanpur, and Dinapur. Right along the Ganges the provinces andtowns seethed with mutiny and murder, regiment after regiment havingrisen against the alien; and Oudh, the kingdom from which the NativeBengal Army was chiefly recruited, was ablaze from one end to another,the people joining hands with the rebels in their hatred of theforeigners who had dethroned their wicked king.

  There was one patch of blue in the lowering sky. Lucknow, the capital ofOudh, was holding out bravely. There the best and greatest and mostloved man in India was holding the rebel troops at bay with his handfulof Englishmen and a number of loyal sepoys, who thereby won everlastinghonour. This was Sir Henry Lawrence, the elder brother of John Lawrence.He it was who had pacified the Punjabis, and first taught the stoutSikhs and Pathans and Jats that Englishmen ruled for the benefit of thenatives. He it was who gathered round him and trained that band of noblemen who ruled the Punjab in such manner that Englishmen came to berespected and honoured and even loved by those who had hated theFeringhis most, a few years before. Men like his brother John, JohnNicholson, Herbert Edwardes, and others who became famous as greatsoldiers and the best administrators the world has ever known--they wereall proud to call themselves the disciples of Henry Lawrence. HenryLawrence governed the Punjab as supreme ruler--as king, in fact, thoughnot in name, when the Punjab was the most turbulent and unruly kingdomin Asia, and he had made it the best-governed. When he was called awayhis brother John had worthily filled his shoes, and but for the devotionand genius and goodness of heart of these two brothers, England mighthave lost India.

  When the mutiny broke out, Henry Lawrence was Resident of Oudh. Had hebeen there a few years longer, the men of Oudh would not haveentertained that hatred of the British which now filled their hearts,but his beneficent rule had hardly had time to make itself felt. Healone--though he sympathized with and loved the natives of India morethan any other Englishman--had foreseen the possibility of the rising,and he had taken steps to meet it in Lucknow. Owing to his foresight andgeneralship the Residency had been fortified and provisioned, and whenthe rising took place all the Europeans were within the fort, and themutineers raged furiously but in vain.

  Our friends at Delhi learned that Havelock and Neill were leading asmall column to the rescue of Lucknow, fighting every inch of the way.Neill had been hastily summoned from Madras with his gallant regiment,and had already done splendid work. Lord Canning, the viceroy, had risento the occasion. Without hesitating he had brought back Outram's PersiaExpeditionary Force, and had courageously taken upon himself to stop atColombo the ships which were taking troops to China, and divert them toCalcutta. China might wait, India could not.

  In the Punjab the poorbeahs had shot their bolt and had missed. FirstChamberlain and then Nicholson, with the movable column, were giving therebels no rest, harrying them from one province to another, andpunishing them severely.

  It was not at the Flagstaff Tower, but at their own post that they heardthe news that made each man feel as if he had lost a dear friend. HenryLawrence was dead. Yes, one of the pillars of the empire had fallen, andeven the roughest soldiers felt the shock.

  "Ah, he was a man, he was!" murmured a rifleman. "We sha'n't see anotherlike him."

  A sergeant of the 60th gazed thoughtfully over the city.

  "My two kids are in that asylum he built up at Sanawar," said he. "Hewas the sojer's friend. The kiddies 'ud have bin dead by now if ithadn't bin for 'im."

  "You're right there," said another non-commissioned officer, shakinghis head. "He's done more for us than any man. Who cared what became ofthe poor little beggars, whether they died like flies or not, till heraised the money for the asylums?"

  "What asylums are them?" asked a young private.

  "Have ye no' heard o' the Lawrence Asylums?" demanded a man from Lanark."They're built on the hills, whaur the air is as guid as at Rothesay,an' they're for the soldiers' bairns."

  "Aye!" said the sergeant; "and though he was only a poor man for one inhis position, they said he spent nearly all his salary in charity."

  "Lucknow won't be long now he's dead," muttered another. "They can'thold out for ever, and the rebels are swarming round Havelock. He's hadto fall back."

  But Lucknow was not destined to fall.

  "Well, I'm not a cruel man," muttered the young private, "but I couldkill a few o' them sepoys with pleasure, the black-'earted villains!"

  We may regret this longing for vengeance, but can we wonder at it? Themen had heard of their comrades murdered in cold blood, of the women andchildren tortured and slain most barbarously, and their blood boiled atthe outrages. Afterwards it was found that the tales of torture andcruelty had been exaggerated, and that the helpless women and childrenhad been slain quickly and not after prolonged suffering. But even thenmatters were black enough to excuse the cries for vengeance. Many goodand usually gentle men steeled their hearts at this time and gave noquarter to rebel soldiers, but let us thank God that there were manybrave Englishmen--the Lawrences foremost among them--who forgave a greatdeal to the sepoys, and who took into account their temptations andtheir untamed nature, and who would much rather have won the rebelsover by kindness than by slaughter had it been possible.

  But that was not possible.

  A number of the older soldiers of the Guides came up as the riflemenwere still discussing the latest news. A veteran native officer, griefdepicted on his weather-beaten countenance, addressed Captain Russell intones of mingled sadness and anxiety.

  "Is it true, Captain Sahib, that Henry Larens is dead? Tell us it isfalse."

  Jim's voice faltered. Henry Lawrence had been the hero he hadworshipped.

  "It is true," said he, simply.

  "I would have given my life to save his, sahib," said the old Sikh. "Hiswas the brain that raised the Corps of Guides, and he it was who gave memy commission. Oh, my brothers, a great man is dead! Let us go and mournfor Larens Sahib."

  The veteran drew his sword and shook it at the sepoys on the walls.

  "Wait a little while," he added, "and there will be many mourners inthat den of jackals."

  The heat was now terrible--a torture that could not be imagined by thepeople at home; that took the life and energy from the strongest, whileas for the others--well, they must suffer the fate of the weak. In thedaytime the pitiless Indian sun blazed down upon them, awful in itspower and wrath, and at night they gasped for air, and choked, andcursed, or grimly joked, or called upon God, according to their nature.

  Ted Russell, healthy and in good condition, with no superfluous flesh,suffered less than most. He had one slight attack of cholera in theearly days of July. One day, having been on duty all night, he laywithin the house, in little more than bathing-costume, vainly trying tosnatc
h an hour's sleep, for the Mori guns were hard at work. Overheadthe sky was of a uniform deep-blue, broken only by the mass of firealmost directly above, and by the haze along the horizon.

  As if by magic, the thundering of the guns from the Delhi bastionsceased, and the well-known strains of our National Anthem were wafted bythe south wind from the Mogul city.

  "'God Save the Queen!'" gasped Ted. "What's the meaning of that?"

  All listened in bewilderment. What could it mean? Had the sepoyssuddenly repented and become loyal again? As the band ceased, the bigguns of the city thundered forth a royal salute, and then were silent asthe band again played "God Save the Queen!".

  "What cheek! What awful cheek!" Alec indignantly exclaimed. "Well, thatbeats everything!"

  "What is it?" asked Ted again. "What are they playing that tune for?"

  "They are mocking us," Claud Boldre angrily replied. "They have heardwhat we heard this morning. The curs have captured Agra town, and now Isuppose they're gloating over their victory and making fun of us."

  His guess was true; the sepoys had taken this strange method ofcelebrating their triumph. It shows they were not without some sense ofhumour.

  Among the crowd attracted to the "Flagstaff" meeting-place by theunusual strains were many of our hero's new chums. Both he and Alec hadformed close friendships with a number of the junior officers from thecamp below the Ridge, and Ted particularly had become very popular. Hehad both proved himself courageous and shown good commonsense, and henever once attempted to put on "side". The terrible danger he had gonethrough at Aurungpore had steadied down his love of fun and joking, andmade him realize his responsibilities. Had he come straight to Delhiwithout having undergone that trying experience in the arsenal, he wouldsoon have found some mischief in which to entangle his Guides andGurkhas. They would have been only too delighted to have joined in anyfun, however rash and hazardous.

  "I say, Russell," observed Ensign Collins of the 8th Foot, "you're alucky beggar, you know. You've had your fair share of the fun."

  "Fair share!" growled Claud Boldre. "Why, in his twelve months' servicehe's had more than most colonels can boast of in as many years. First hegoes exploding magazines up and down the country, and instead of beingblown up he gets the V.C. Then he's boxed up and besieged, andthrillingly rescued like a scene out of a melodrama; after that he'slucky enough to take part in the grandest march on record; and now he'son duty at Hindu Rao's picket, where all the fighting is. Fair share,indeed! It ought to have been divided amongst half a dozen of us."

  "And it ain't that he's particularly handsome," laughed Alec.

  Ted grinned. He was too decent a fellow to become conceited, and headmitted that he had had more than his share of the luck.

  They were still joking when something happened that tended to confirmtheir belief in our ensign's luck. One of the general's aides came upand told Ted that Sir Archdale wished to speak to him at once.

  "You'll come back a lieutenant at least, Ted," was Alec's unasked-foropinion.

  "Lieutenant indeed!" laughed Collins. "I expect he's going to orderRussell to blow up Delhi _a la_ Aurungpore."

  "Or else resign the command in Russell's favour," was Boldre'ssuggestion.

  Ted grinned back at them all, but his heart beat somewhat rapidly as hewas ushered into the head-quarters tent, and it was to beat much morewildly before he left.

  Sir Archdale looked up as the boy entered, and went on with his work forsome moments, and Ted stood at attention and wondered what was going tohappen. At length the general again glanced up from his papers. He wasevidently very busy.

  "You sent for me, sir?" Ted faltered.

  "Yes. I am sorry that my duty is much less pleasant than on the previousoccasion, when I prematurely raised your hopes of the V.C."

  Ted gasped.

  "I hope it may still be all right," General Wilson continued, "but thismorning I received notice from Colonel Munro that there is anotherclaimant to the honour of having exploded the magazine at Aurungpore."

  Ted was utterly bewildered. He could not find a word to say.

  "It seems that another officer of yours--let me see," the general tookup a letter that lay on the table, and referred thereto. "Ah, EnsignTynan!--was taken prisoner by the sepoys, but rescued; and his story isthat he was in command of the party holding the fort, and that it was hewho fired the train. His account is confirmed by a native officer whosaved his life, and who was present."

  "Why, sir, there was no native officer in the party," Ted exclaimed, "noone higher than a havildar, and he was with me all the time.--So Tynanis really alive, sir?"

  "Evidently. Of course, I am in no position to judge between you, and Iknow nothing beyond the bald facts just related. If you dispute hisstatements an enquiry will have to be held later."

  "His statements!" said Ted indignantly. "Why, sir, he implored me tosurrender, and not to fire the train, and Ambar Singh, the havildar,will bear me out. Thinking he was dead, I never told that to a soul,sir; but if he has lied in this way, he deserves to be shown up."

  "I trust that no British officer would act as you allege, EnsignRussell," said the general coldly. "At present I can say nothing more,and I am very busy. Rest assured that justice will be done."

  Ted saluted stiffly, and walked out. If he had felt dazed on theprevious occasion, what were his feelings now? Full of indignationagainst his dishonourable messmate, and of intense disappointmentbecause of the probable loss of the coveted honour, he strode back tothe Gurkha picket, and told Jim and Paterson what had happened.

  They could hardly credit the story. They both knew Tynan's character,and Alec had heard Ambar Singh's free version of the incident, and theyfelt no doubt regarding the result of any enquiry.

  "Don't be downcast, Ted, old boy," said Jim affectionately. "It willsoon be all right."

  "But who can the native officer be?" Alec wondered. "It's a mystery."

  "I can't make it out," Ted replied. "Anyway Ambar Singh and Dwarika Raiwill give evidence, and then where will Master Tynan be?"

  "But look here, Ted," said his brother in an agitated voice. "Where arethose two? They may have been drafted into some other regiment and senta thousand miles away, or both may be killed. Or they may have beenallowed to return home, and have left no trace. In that case it would beyour word against Tynan's, and though no one who knows you both couldhave any doubt, yet his word will be as good as yours at the enquiry. Ido hope it will come out all right, old boy."

  "I'm sure it will," said Alec. "Cheer up, Ted!"

  More easily said than done, and our ensign went about his work with aheavy and angry heart. Fortunately for his peace of mind, when the newsspread, Boldre, Collins, and all his chums rallied round him, and votedthe absent Tynan a beast and a liar.