So E Company, in its shirt-sleeves mainly, doubled
for the dear life, and in the rear toiled the perspiring
Sergeant, adjuring it to double yet faster. The
cantonment was alive with the men of the 195th hunting
for Wee Willie Winkie, and the Colonel finally overtook
E Company, far too exhausted to swear, struggling
in the pebbles of the river-bed.
Up the hill under which Wee Willie Winkie’s
Bad Men were discussing the wisdom of carrying off
the child and the girl, a look-out fired two shots.
“What have I said?” shouted Din Mahommed.
“There is the warning! The pulton
are out already and are coming across the plain!
Get away! Let us not be seen with the boy!”
The men waited for an instant, and then, as another
shot was fired, withdrew into the hills, silently
as they had appeared.
“The wegiment is coming,” said Wee Willie
Winkie, confidently, to Miss Allardyce, “and
it’s all wight. Don’t cwy!”
He needed the advice himself, for ten minutes later,
when his father came up, he was weeping bitterly with
his head in Miss Allardyce’s lap.
And the men of the 195th carried him home with shouts
and rejoicings; and Coppy, who had ridden a horse
into a lather, met him, and, to his intense disgust,
kissed him openly in the presence of the men.
But there was balm for his dignity. His father
assured him that not only would the breaking of arrest
be condoned, but that the good-conduct badge would
be restored as soon as his mother could sew it on his
blouse-sleeve. Miss Allardyce had told the Colonel
a story that made him proud of his son.
“She belonged to you, Coppy,” said Wee
Willie Winkie, indicating Miss Allardyce with a grimy
forefinger. “I knew she didn’t
ought to go acwoss ve wiver, and I knew ve wegiment
would come to me if I sent Jack home.”
“You’re a hero, Winkie,” said Coppy—“a
pukka hero!”
“I don’t know what vat means,” said
Wee Willie Winkie, “but you mustn’t call
me Winkie any no more, I’m Percival Will’am
Will’ams.”
And in this manner did Wee Willie Winkie enter into
his manhood.
It was not in the open fight
We threw away the sword,
But in the lonely watching
In the darkness by the
ford.
The waters lapped, the night-wind
blew,
Full-armed the Fear was born and
grew.
And we were flying ere we knew
From panic in the night.
—Beoni
Bar>/I>.
Some people hold that an English Cavalry regiment
cannot run. This is a mistake. I have seen
four hundred and thirty-seven sabres flying over the
face of the country in abject terror—have
seen the best Regiment that ever drew bridle wiped
off the Army List for the space of two hours.
If you repeat this tale to the White Hussars they
will, in all probability, treat you severely.
They are not proud of the incident.
