Stalky & Co. - Rudyard Kipling (ebooks children's books free TXT) đ
- Author: Rudyard Kipling
- Performer: -
Book online «Stalky & Co. - Rudyard Kipling (ebooks children's books free TXT) đ». Author Rudyard Kipling
âWe werenât,â Tertius broke in, âbut there was another row between Gul Sher Khan and Rutton Singh. Our Jemadar saidâhe was quite rightâthat no Sikh living could stalk worth a damn; and that Koran Sahib had better take out the Pathans, who understood that kind of mountain work. Rutton Singh said that Koran Sahib jolly well knew every Pathan was a born deserter, and every Sikh was a gentleman, even if he couldnât crawl on his belly. Stalky struck in with some womanâs proverb or other, that had the effect of doublinâ both men up with a grin. He said the Sikhs and the Pathans could settle their claims on the Khye-Kheens and Maloâts later on, but he was going to take his Sikhs along for this mountain-climbing job, because Sikhs could shoot. They can, too. Give âem a mule-load of ammunition apiece, and theyâre perfectly happy.â
âAnd out he gat,â said Dick Four. âAs soon as it was dark, and heâd had a bit of a snooze, him and thirty Sikhs went down through the staircase in the tower, every motherâs son of âem salutinâ little Everett where It stood propped up against the wall. The last I heard him say was, âKubbadar! tumbleinga! [Look out; youâll fall!] and they tumbleingaed over the black edge of nothing. Close upon 9 p.m. the combined attack developed; Khye-Kheens across the valley, and Maloâts in front of us, plugginâ at long range and yellinâ to each other to come along and cut our infidel throats. Then they skirmished up to the gate, and began the old game of calling our Pathans renegades, and invitinâ âem to join the holy war. One of our men, a young fellow from Dera Ismail, jumped on the wall to slang âem back, and jumped down, blubbing like a child. Heâd been hit smack in the middle of the hand. âNever saw a man yet who could stand a hit in the hand without weepinâ bitterly. It tickles up all the nerves. So Tertius took his rifle and smote the others on the head to keep them quiet at the loopholes. The dear children wanted to open the gate and go in at âem generally, but that didnât suit our book.
âAt last, near midnight, I heard the wop, wop, wop, of Stalkyâs Martinis across the valley, and some general cursing among the Maloâts, whose main body was hid from us by a fold in the hillside. Stalky was browninâ âem at a great rate, and very naturally they turned half right and began to blaze at their faithless allies, the Khye-Kheensâregular volley firinâ. In less than ten minutes after Stalky opened the diversion they were going it hammer and tongs, both sides the valley. When we could see, the valley was rather a mixed-up affair. The Khye-Kheens had streamed out of their sungars above the gorge to chastise the Maloâts, and StalkyâI was watching him through my glassesâhad slipped in behind âem. Very good. The Khye-Kheens had to leg it along the hillside up to where the gorge got shallow and they could cross over to the Maloâts, who were awfully cheered to see the Khye-Kheens taken in the rear.
âThen it occurred to me to comfort the Khye-Kheens. So I turned out the whole command, and we advanced _aâlapas_de_charge_, doublinâ up what, for the sake of argument, weâll call the Maloâtsâ left flank. Even then, if theyâd sunk their differences, they could have eaten us alive; but theyâd been firinâ at each other half the night, and they went on firinâ. Queerest thing you ever saw in your born days! As soon as our men doubled up to the Maloâts, theyâd blaze at the Khye-Kheens more zealously than ever, to show they were on our side, run up the valley a few hundred yards, and halt to fire again. The moment Stalky saw our game he duplicated it his side the gorge; and, by Jove! the Khye-Kheens did just the same thing.â
âYes, but,â said Tertius, âyouâve forgot him playinâ âArrah, Patsy, mind the babyâ on the bugle to hurry us up.â
âDid he?â roared McTurk. Somehow we all began to sing it, and there was an interruption.
âRather,â said Tertius, when we were quiet. No one of the Aladdin company could forget that tune. âYes, he played âPatsy.â Go on, Dick.â
âFinally,â said Dick Four, âwe drove both mobs into each otherâs arms on a bit of level ground at the head of the valley, and saw the whole crew whirl off, fightinâ and stabbinâ and swearinâ in a blindinâ snow-storm. They were a heavy, hairy lot, and we didnât follow âem.
âStalky had captured one prisonerâan old pensioned Sepoy of twenty-five yearsâ service, who produced his dischargeâan awfâly sportinâ old card. He had been tryinâ to make his men rush us early in the day. He was sulkyâangry with his own side for their cowardice, and Rutton Singh wanted to bayonet himâSikhs donât understand fightinâ against the Government after youâve served it honestlyâbut Stalky rescued him, and froze on to him tightâwith ulterior motives, I believe. When we got back to the fort, we buried young EverettâStalky wouldnât hear of blowinâ up the placeâand bunked. Weâd only lost ten men, all told.â
âOnly ten, out of seventy. How did you lose âem?â I asked.
âOh, there was a rush on the fort early in the night, and a few Maloâts got over the gate. It was rather a tight thing for a minute or two, but the recruits took it beautifully. Lucky job we hadnât any badly wounded men to carry, because we had forty miles to Macnamaraâs camp. By Jove, how we legged it! Half way in, old Rutton Singh collapsed, so we slung him across four rifles and Stalkyâs overcoat; and Stalky, his prisoner, and a couple of Sikhs were his bearers. After that I went to sleep. You can, you know, on the march, when your legs get properly numbed. Mac swears we all marched into his camp snoring and dropped where we halted. His men lugged us into the tents like gram-bags. I remember wakinâ up and seeing Stalky asleep with his head on old Rutton Singhâs chest. He slept twenty-four hours. I only slept seventeen, but then I was coming down with dysentery.â
âComing down? What rot! He had it on him before we joined Stalky in the fort,â said Tertius.
âWell, you neednât talk! You hove your sword at Macnamara and demanded a drumhead court-martial every time you saw him. The only thing that soothed you was putting you under arrest every half hour. You were off your head for three days.â
âDonât remember a word of it,â said Tertius, placidly. âI remember my orderly giving me milk, though.â
âHow did Stalky come out?â McTurk demanded, purling hard over his pipe.
âStalky? Like a serene Brahmini bull. Poor old Mac was at his Royal Engineersâ witsâ end to know what to do. You see I was putrid with dysentery, Tertius was ravinâ, half the men had frost-bite, and Macnamaraâs orders were to break camp and come in before winter. So Stalky, who hadnât turned a hair, took half his supplies to save him the bother oâ lugginâ âem back to the plains, and all the ammunition he could get at, and, consilioet_auxilio_ Rutton Singhi, tramped back to his fort with all his Sikhs and his precious prisoners, and a lot of dissolute hangers-on that he and the prisoner had seduced into service. He had sixty men of sortsâand his brazen cheek. Mac nearly wept with joy when he went. You see there werenât any explicit orders to Stalky to come in before the passes were blocked: Mac is a great man for orders, and Stalkyâs a great man for ordersâwhen they suit his book.â
âHe told me he was goinâ to the Engadine,â said Tertius. âSat on my cot smokinâ a cigarette, and makinâ me laugh till I cried. Macnamara bundled the whole lot of us down to the plains next day. We were a walkinâ hospital.â
âStalky told me that Macnamara was a simple godsend to him,â said Dick Four. âI used to see him in Macâs tent listeninâ to Mac playinâ the fiddle, and, between the pieces, wheedlinâ Mac out of picks and shovels and dynamite cartridges hand-over-fist. Well, that was the last we saw of Stalky. A week or so later the passes were shut with snow, and I donât think Stalky wanted to be found particularly just then.â
âHe didnât,â said the fair and fat Abanazar. âHe didnât. Ho, ho!â
Dick Four threw up his thin, dry hand with the blue veins at the back of it. âHold on a minute, Pussy; Iâll let you in at the proper time. I went down to my regiment, and that spring, five mouths later, I got off with a couple of companies on detachment: nominally to look after some friends of ours across the border; actually, of course, to recruit. It was a bit unfortunate, because an ass of a young Naick carried a frivolous blood-feud heâd inherited from his aunt into those hills, and the local gentry wouldnât volunteer into my corps. Of course, the Naick had taken short leave to manage the business; that was all regular enough; but heâd stalked my pet orderlyâs uncle. It was an infernal shame, because I knew Harris of the Ghuznees would be covering that ground three months later, and heâd snaffle all the chaps I had my eyes on. Everybody was down on the Naick, because they felt he ought to have had the decency to postpone hisâhis disgustful amours till our companies were full strength.
âStill the beast had a certain amount of professional feeling left. He sent one of his auntâs clan by night to tell me that, if Iâd take safeguard, heâd put me on to a batch of beauties. I nipped over the border like a shot, and about ten miles the other side, in a nullah, my rapparee-in-charge showed me about seventy men variously armed, but standing up like a Queenâs company. Then one of âem stepped out and lugged round an old bugle, just likeâwhoâs the man?âBancroft, ainât it?âfeeling for his eye-glass in a farce, and played âArrah, Patsy, mind the baby. Arrah, Patsy, mindââthat was as for as he could get.â
That, also, was as far as Dick Four could get, because we had to sing the old song through twice, again and once more, and subsequently, in order to repeat it.
âHe explained that if I knew the rest of the song he had a note for me from the man the song belonged to. Whereupon, my children, I finished that old tune on that bugle, and this is what I got. I knew youâd like to look at it. Donât grab.â (We were all struggling for a sight of the well-known unformed handwriting.) âIâll read it aloud.
ââFort Everett, February 19.
ââDear Dick, or Tertius: The bearer of this is in charge of seventy-five recruits, all pukka devils, but desirous of leading new lives. They have been slightly polished, and after being boiled may shape well. I want you to give thirty of them to my adjutant, who, though Godâs own ass, will need men this spring. The rest you can keep. You will be interested to learn that I have extended my road to the end of the Maloât country. All headmen and priests concerned in last Septemberâs affair worked one month each, supplying road metal from their own houses. Everettâs grave is covered by a forty-foot mound, which should serve well as a base for future triangulations. Rutton Singh sends his best salaams. I am making some treaties, and have given my prisonerâwho also
Comments (0)