"They don't know much about the Guides, do they, Ted?" Alec whispered. "They don't. But they spoke of the Sirmur Gurkhas. I wonder whether they are coming here? My cousin Charlie Dorricot is with them, so I hope they are. He's a jolly beggar is Charlie." "They say Gurkhas are always to be trusted," Alec replied; "and from what these fellows say, it's evident they haven't mutinied so far.... Hullo! what's up now? The 'Alarm'! By Jove, the pandies are attacking us!" A bugle had sounded the 'Alarm'; the men sprang to their feet, rushed for their arms, and prepared to fall in. In an instant the whole camp was alive. "What is it? Who are they?" "Over there! Look! It's an attack on our rear." The bugle blew again, and the alarm gradually subsided. All eyes were directed towards a body of men marching wearily, but with correct, well-drilled step, along the road leading towards the British camp. They seemed dark, very short of stature, and curiously attired, and that was all that could be made out. Though not Europeans, they were evidently friends, because the "Alarm" sounded by the first bugle had been contradicted by the second call. And now that the sepoy regiments were proving false right and left, what Asiatic corps except the Guides could be trusted so near the head-quarters of the rebels? John Lawrence would take good care that no doubtful regiments should be sent to Delhi, and that no Mussulman nor Brahman of the Bengal army should be given such an excellent chance of turning traitor at the critical moment. The strangers drew nearer, and the camp turned out to meet them. Then the word passed from lip to lip that these were the Gurkhas--Reid's Gurkhas. "It's the Sirmur Battalion, Alec," said Ted; and he executed a little _pas seul_ to proclaim his delight. "Who are they?" asked some of the Tommies. "Where 'ave they come from? Can they fight?" "Fight? Can't they just!" replied one of the knowing ones, a sergeant with a dozen years' Indian experience. "They come from Dehra Dun, up in the hills." "I wouldn't give a dog-biscuit for all the native regiments in India," a young private declared. "They're all rotten with treachery." "You'll never be commander-in-chief, Sammy," the sergeant retorted. "You know a dashed sight too much, and yet not 'arf enough. If you wasn't so ignorant you'd know that these Gurkies ain't natives but furriners in Injia same as us, livin' in a furrin country called Nepal, up amongst the Himalayas, which you've never 'eard on, I dare say. And the Gurky king ain't a subject of the queen, like the Injian rajahs and nawabs and nizams and such, but free and independent, like voters at an election. I've fought side by side with 'em, Sammy, and they're as good pals on a battle-field as any chaps from Battersea."