During the river voyage, despite the ample opportunity he enjoyed for forming definite conclusions, Gerrard remained balanced between two contradictory opinions, and he was still much tumbled up and down in his mind when he landed and fell into the eminently bracing company of Charteris. British troops and siege-guns--not now to be spared from Granthistan--had come and were still coming up from Bombay, and the lines which had been fortified by the Darwanis and Habshiabad force were now only part of an extensive position. Charteris pointed out the various spots, much changed now since the battle in which Gerrard had received his wound, as they rode up to the camp. "Then you are under the yoke again, Bob?" said Gerrard. "Rayther, just a very few! The Brigadier has determined in his own mind that I am dead set upon presuming, so, to make it impossible, he snaps my head off every time he sees me, and at once." "Hard luck, old boy!" "Oh, I share it with my betters. By the bye, is it true that the Governor-General has been powdering Sir Edmund's wig?" "In a way. Antony wanted to promise Sher Singh his life if he would surrender, and the G.-G. came down upon him like a hundred of bricks. Told him that if he had put forth any such proclamation he would have to recall it, I believe, but happily things had not gone so far." "I'm sorry for Sir Edmund, but I back Blairgowrie--which is jolly handsome behaviour, since he has written some uncommon nasty things about me. 'Pon my word, Hal, I'm right glad that they refused us our siege-guns, and left us here tied by the leg for the hot weather." Gerrard looked at him in astonishment. "But if we had been able to stamp out Sher Singh's rebellion--as we could have done if they had supported us properly--it would have saved this second Granthi War, Bob." "That's just it. We should have gone on trying to govern through the Durbar, and declaring that we were merely taking care of the country until Lena Singh comes of age, knowing that if he ever reigned alone it would mean the destruction of all we had done. But now the farce is at an end, and they must annex Granthistan. Our _ikbal_[1] stands fairly high, but it can't take the risk of a war bad enough to drag the C.-in-C. from his Olympian retirement every two or three years. I'm sorry for Sir Edmund, who has done his very best to bolster up the Durbar, but facts are too strong for him." "He will take it hard," said Gerrard. "Here is my camp, I see--my _campoo_,[2] I should say," as they were met by a cluster of salaaming Habshiabadis, who testified loudly their joy at his return. "But why shouldn't I report myself to the Brigadier at once, Bob, and then come back and settle in?"