Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills. Fenn George Manville

he is,” cried Bracy excitedly, thrusting his sword back in its scabbard. “Just beyond where that stone fell.”

      “Yes, sir; I see him now. It’s all over with the poor lad. Here, sir; don’t, sir. What are you going to do?”

      “Do? Fetch him in,” said Bracy sharply.

      “No, sir; don’t, sir. It’s like going to a ’orrid death,” faltered the Sergeant, whose face was of a clayey hue. “You mustn’t go, sir. You ought to order me to fetch him in, and I will if you tell me.”

      “I’m not going to tell our lads to do what I daren’t do myself,” said Bracy coldly. “They can’t see us here – can they?”

      The Sergeant glanced upward, but the view in that direction was cut off by projecting masses of stone.

      “No, sir; they can’t see us here.”

      “Then here goes,” cried the young officer, drawing a deep breath and pressing his helmet down upon his head.

      “No, sir; don’t – ” began the Sergeant in tones of expostulation; but he did not finish, for before the second word had left his lips Bracy was bounding along as if running in an impediment race, leaping masses of stone, avoiding others, and making for where he could see the motionless figure; of Gedge still grasping his rifle and lying face downward among the stones.

      A yell arose from above as Bracy bounded into view, and stones began to fall again; while, upon reaching the fallen man, the young officer, completely ignoring the terrible peril in which he stood, bent down, passed his arms about the waist, raised him, and with a big effort threw him over his shoulder; and then turned and started back, carrying the poor fellow’s rifle in his right hand.

      The yells from above increased, and before Bracy had gone half-a-dozen yards of the return journey there was a loud whish, and he stopped short, for a block of stone struck the path not a yard before him, and then bounded off. For a moment or two Bracy felt mentally stunned by the close approach of a horrible death; then, recovering himself, he strode on again, feeling strongly that it was more perilous to stand still than to go on, with every step taking him nearer to safety.

      There was an intense desire burning within him to try and run, but the rugged path forbade that, and he tramped slowly on with his load, with the air seeming to his heated imagination to be thick with the falling missiles which came hurtling around.

      “The next must do it,” he found himself muttering, as he went on with what, though only a matter of minutes, seemed to be a long journey, before, coming confusedly as it were out of a dream, he heard the cheering of his men, and Sergeant Gee and three more relieved him of his load, while the crash and rattle of the falling stones seemed to be far behind.

      “Hooray!” A tremendously hearty British cheer – only that of a company, but as loud it seemed as if given by the whole regiment; and the next thing out of the confused dream was the feeling of his hand being grasped, and the hearing of his brother officer’s voice.

      “Splendid, old man!” he whispered. “Talk about pluck! But what’s the matter? Don’t say you’re hurt?”

      “No – no, I think not. Only feel a bit stunned.”

      “Then you’re hit by a stone?”

      “No, no. There, I’m better now. Here! That poor fellow Gedge! I hope he isn’t killed.”

      They turned to the little group of men who surrounded poor Gedge, now lying on his back, with Gee upon one knee bending over him, and trying to give him some water from his canteen.

      “Dead?” cried Bracy excitedly.

      “’Fraid so, sir,” replied the Sergeant. “Stone hit him on the ’elmet, and I expect his head’s caved in.”

      “Bathe his face with a handful of the water,” said Bracy sadly. “Poor lad! this was horribly sudden.”

      Both he and Roberts looked down sadly at the stony face so lately full of mischievous animation, and in view of the perilous position in which they stood and the duty he had to do, the Captain was about to order the men to make an extempore stretcher of their rifles and the Sergeant’s strong netted sash, so that the retreat could be continued, when Gee dashed some water in the prostrate lad’s face.

      The effect was marvellous. In an instant a spasm ran through the stony features. There was a fit of coughing and choking, and as the men around, always ready for a laugh, broke out, the supposed dead opened his eyes, stared blankly, and gasped out:

      “Stow that! Here, who did it? Here, I’ll just wipe some one’s eye for that, here, I know – I – here – I s’y – I – er – Mr Bracy, sir! You wouldn’t play tricks with a fellow like that? Ah, I recklect now!”

      The poor fellow’s hand went to his bare head, and he winced at the acute pain the touch gave him.

      “I say, sir,” he said, “ketched me a spank right there. – Is my ’elmet spoiled?”

      “Never mind your helmet, Gedge, my lad,” cried Bracy, who was bending over him. “There, you must lie still till we get something ready to carry you to the ambulance.”

      “Kerry me, sir! What for? Ain’t going to croak, am I? Not me. Here, I’m all right, sir. Give’s a drink outer my bottle. – Hah! that’s good. – Drop more, please, Sergeant, – Thanky. – Hah! that is good. Feel as if I could drink like a squelchy-welchy. – Here, I s’y, where’s my rifle?”

      “I’ve got it, pardner,” said one of the lads.

      “Oh, that’s right. Ain’t got the stock skretched, hev it?”

      “No, no; that’s all right, Bill.”

      “Glad o’ that. Here, I s’y; I went down, didn’t I?”

      “Yes, my lad; just in the middle of the worst bit where the stones were falling.”

      “That was it – was it? Well, I did wonder they never hit nobody, sir, but I didn’t expect they’d hit me.”

      “What are you going to do, my lad?” said the Captain sharply.

      “Get up, sir. – Can’t lie here. ’Tain’t soft enough. I’m all right. Only feel silly, as if I’d been heving my fust pipe. – Thanky, Sergeant. – Here, it’s all right; I can stand. Who’s got my ’elmet?”

      The poor fellow tottered a little, but the British pluck of his nature made him master the dizzy feeling, and the old familiar boyish grin broke out over his twitching white face as he took hold of the helmet handed to him and tried to put it on.

      “Here, I s’y,” he cried, “no larks now; this ain’t in me.”

      “Yes, that’s yours, Gedge,” said the Sergeant.

      “Got such a dint in it, then, that it won’t go on.”

      “No, my lad,” said Bracy. “Here, Sergeant, tie my handkerchief round his head.”

      “Yes, sir; thank ye, sir. Here, hold still, Gedge,” cried the Sergeant.

      “Well, I’m blest!” muttered the poor fellow; “there’s all one side puffed out like arf a bushel basket. Here, I’ve often heard of chaps having the swelled head when they’ve got on a bit; but I won’t show it, mateys. I won’t cut your company. – Thank ye, Sergeant.”

      “Fall in,” cried the Captain. “Gedge, you’ll have to be carried. Two men. Sergeant, and change often.”

      “I can walk, sir, please,” cried Gedge. “Let me try. If I can’t some un can carry me then.”

      “Very well, try. – Forward.”

      The march was resumed, but after a few steps the injured lad was glad to grasp the arm offered him by Gee.

      “Thanky, Sergeant,” he said. “Just a bit dizzy now, and I don’t want to go over the side. Better soon; but, I say, did you fetch me in?”

      “No: it was Mr