Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian MutinyFenn, George Manville
History
Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny
Fenn, George Manville
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- Fiction; India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
We gave him a cheer, and another half-mile was got over, when once more
the boys began to flag terribly, and even Harry Lant was silent, which,
seeing what Harry Lant was, means a wonderful deal more respecting the
weather than any number of degrees on a thermometer, I can tell you; but
I looked round at him, and he knew what it meant, and, slipping out, he
goes up to the elephant. "Carry your trunk, sir," he says; and taking
gently hold of the great beast's soft nose, he laid it upon his
shoulder, and marched on like that, with the men roaring with laughter.
"Pulla-wulla. Ma-pa-na," shouted the nigger who was driving, or
something that sounded like it, for of all the rum lingoes ever spoke,
theirs is about the rummest, and always put me in mind of the fal-lal-la
or tol-de-rol chorus of a song.
"All right. I'll take care!" sings out Harry; and on he marched, with
the great soft-footed beast lifting its round pads and putting them down
gently so as not to hurt Harry; and, trifling as that act was, it meant
a great deal, as you'll see if you read on, while just then it got our
poor fellows over the last half-mile without one falling out; and then
the halt was called; men wheeled into line; we were dismissed; and soon
after we were lounging about, under such shade as we could manage to get
in the thin tope of trees.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWO.
That's a pretty busy time, that first half-hour after a halt: what with
the niggers setting up a few tents, and getting a fire lighted, and
fetching water; but in spite of our being tired, we soon had things
right. There was the colonel's tent, Colonel Maine's--a little stout
man, that we all used to laugh at, because he was such a little, round,
good-tempered chap, who never troubled about anything, for we hadn't
learned then what was lying asleep in his brave little body, waiting to
be brought out. Then there was the mess tent for the officers, and the
hospital tent for those on the sick-list, beside our bell tents, that we
shouldn't have set up at all, only to act as sun-shades. But, of
course, the principal tent was the colonel's.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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