The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [536]
A single shot, fired from no great distance, struck a shower of splinters from a rock a few yards ahead, and as he hastily put away his field-glasses and gathered up the reins, the stillness of the morning was further broken by a vicious spatter of musket balls. The enemy had not only seen them, but had obviously taken the precaution of posting pickets; and one of these, cunningly concealed behind a tumble of stones and rock barely five hundred yards away, had opened fire on the intruders. Mindful of his instructions Wally had not lingered. His small force turned tail and galloped out of range, and by ten o'clock they were safely back in camp.
The General, after listening to the report of his Staff Officers, had ordered that a certain hill-top, from where the enemy's movements could be seen and signalled back to the camp, should be seized immediately, and Wally had gone forward with this party and remained with them for a short time, ostensibly to study the movements of the Khugianis, though in reality in the hope of locating Ash, whom he suspected of firing that first warning shot this morning, as it had certainly not come from the barrel of a Border musket. But even with the aid of field-glasses it was not possible to make out individual faces in the vast, shifting mass of tribesmen who had gathered on a stretch of high ground over a mile ahead; while a careful inspection of the nearer slopes and ridges showed no signs of life – though Wally did not doubt that at least half-a-dozen outposts were concealed among the rocks in the country between this hill-top and the insurgents.
He put away his field-glasses with a sigh and returned to camp to tell Wigram that Ash was right about the Khugianis – anyone could see that they meant business. ‘There must be thousands of them out there, four or five thousand at least, and they've got a whacking great red standard and a few white ones, and judging from some of their shooting this morning I'd say they've got quite a few carbines as well. What on earth do you suppose we're waiting for? Why don't we get started, instead of sitting around as though we'd only come out to look at the view and have a picnic lunch?’
‘My dear Walter, Patience, we are told, is a virtue. You should cultivate it,’ retorted Wigram. ‘We – or rather the General – are waiting to hear what those fellows who went out this morning to reconnoitre the Gandamak road have to say, and as soon as they have made their report I expect we'll get our orders to move. But they haven't come back yet.’
‘Not come back?’ exclaimed Wally, startled. ‘But it's half past twelve. I thought they were only going about five miles up the valley? Do you suppose – you don't think they've walked into an ambush, do you?’
‘No I don't. If they had, there would have been a lot of firing, and at least some of them would have been able to get back and fetch help. Besides, Ashton would have known and done something about it. No, they're merely doing what they were told to: spying out the land. They'll probably turn up in time for their tiffin, so we can enjoy ours with a clear conscience.’
The mid-day meal was already being served, but Wally was impatient for action and far too keyed-up to feel hungry. Having swallowed a mouthful or two standing up, he strode off to see that his men had been fed and that everything was in readiness for the order to march, and Wigram, by now as familiar as Ash with Wally's habit of singing hymns when in high spirits, noticed with amusement that he was crooning ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ – and thought that in the circumstances it was a bizarre choice of battle song, considering that the sowars were mostly Mussulmans or Sikhs with a sprinkling of Hindus, and that all of them, in the eyes of the singer's Church, were ‘idol-worshipping heathens’.
The Guides had not been kept waiting long. When by one o'clock the missing men had still not returned, General Gough had ordered the