Charteris and Devlin, subalterns of the last company, faced their death alone in the belief that their men would follow. “You've killed me, you cowards,” sobbed Devlin and dropped, cut from the shoulder-strap to the centre of the chest; and a fresh detachment of his men retreating, always retreating, trampled him under foot as they made for the pass whence they had emerged. I kissed her in the kitchen and I kissed her in the hall Child'un, child'un, follow me! Oh Golly, said the cook, is he gwine to kiss us all? Halla--Halla--Halla--Hallelujah! The Goorkhas were pouring through the left gorge and over the heights at the double to the invitation of their Regimental Quick-step. The black rocks were crowned with dark green spiders as the bugles gave tongue jubilantly:-- In the morning! In the morning by the bright light! When Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning! The Goorkha rear companies tripped and blundered over loose stones. The front files halted for a moment to take stock of the valley and to settle stray boot-laces. Then a happy little sigh of contentment soughed down the ranks, and it was as though the land smiled, for behold there below was the enemy, and it was to meet them that the Goorkhas had doubled so hastily. There was much enemy. There would be amusement. The little men hitched their kukris well to hand, and gaped expectantly at their officers as terriers grin ere the stone is cast for them to fetch. The Goorkhas' ground sloped downward to the valley, and they enjoyed a fair view of the proceedings. They sat upon the boulders to watch, for their officers were not going to waste their wind in assisting to repulse a Ghazi rush more than half a mile away. Let the white men look to their own front. “Hi! yi!” said the Subadar-Major, who was sweating profusely. “Dam fools yonder, stand close order! This is no time for close order, it is the time for volleys. Ugh!” Horrified, amused, and indignant, the Goorkhas beheld the retirement of the Fore and Aft with a running chorus of oaths and commentaries. “They run! The white men run! Colonel Sahib, may we also do a little running?” murmured Runbir Thappa, the Senior Jemadar. But the Colonel would have none of it. “Let the beggars be cut up a little,” said he wrathfully. “Serves 'em right. They'll be prodded into facing round in a minute.” He looked through his field-glasses, and caught the glint of an officer's sword. “Beating 'em with the flat--damned conscripts! How the Ghazis are walking into them!” said he.