Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the EastFenn, George Manville
General
Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain. Army -- Colonial forces -- India -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
The rajah seemed to have shrunk from fighting; and I wondered, as we
advanced once more, and saw how strong the position had been, and how
easily he could have beaten a force not a fourth of his number.
We were not long in finding out the direction he had taken. A
miserable-looking peasant announcing the way; and there it was plainly
enough. There could be no doubt of it, for the dust was trampled, and
plenty of traces lay about, showing that the little army must have been
in rather a demoralised state.
"Well, we must give him no rest," said my father; and, in spite of the
heat, the march was resumed, with halts wherever a village promised
water. But, fortunately, a great part of our way was near the river,
whose bends offered refreshment to the thirsty horses, camels, and
elephants.
Then on again till evening, when a halt was called at a good-sized
village, once evidently a place of some importance, but now utterly
desolate; the lands and gardens around trampled, and the traces of a
large body of men having passed quite plain.
Here there was nothing for it but to bivouac, and after the customary
precautions had been taken, the men were ordered to eat their food
quickly, and then lie down and get all the rest they could.
The officers off duty followed their example, and I was asleep, too,
when the bugle-call roused us in the middle of the cool moonlit night,
and about half an hour after, we were all on the march again, a couple
of natives having undertaken to act as guides as far as following the
trail of the rajah's army was concerned. The consequence was, that by
the time the sun began to make its presence felt, we were many miles on
our road.
"How far shall you follow them?" I heard Brace ask the colonel.
"Till I overtake them," said my father, rather coldly. And I could see
a determined look in his eyes which made me think of Ny Deen, and
something like a hope that he might escape would come into my mind.
On again, after a brief halt for refreshment, and about an hour before
midday advantage was taken of a great mango tope for another halt; but
as soon as the sun began to decline we were off again, with the track
plain before us.
Ah, it is slow work marching under a hot Indian sun; but no one
complained, tramping steadily on with scouts well out in front, till it
was dark, when there was another rest till midnight; and on again in the
cool moonlight, with the men on the gun-limbers asleep, and those
mounted nodding and swaying in their saddles, as if ready to come down.
But no one fell, and the march seemed to me part of some strange dream,
till the stars paled, and the orange sun came up, growing hotter and
hotter, till we were all anxiously looking out for our next
halting-place, and wondering how many more days must elapse before we
should overtake Ny Deen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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