Bayonets Along the Border Read Online Free PDF Page A

was sent off hotfoot to rescue you.’ He looked ruefully down the hill. ‘Thoughit looks to me, Captain, as though you and Mrs Fonthill are well able to look after yourselves.’
    Fonthill and Alice exchanged glances. ‘I wouldn’t exactly say that,’ said Simon. ‘It was touch and go. But we were told that the Border was quiet and that this road was safe.’
    Buckingham pulled a face. ‘And so it was. But things have stirred up almost over night. Now, we’d better get back to Marden.’ He shouted another order to his troops then nodded down to the bodies of the Pathans. ‘These chaps are not exactly locals. They look to me as though they’re from the Wazir tribe from near the Khyber. Big troublemakers when they want to be and as fierce as hell. We can’t bury them in this terrain, but we’ll just cover them with rocks – and, of course, take their rifles. Come along, let’s get your wagon back on the road. I’m afraid that, with one mule dead, you will have to ride your horses, but it’s not all that far.’
    All this was said with a fluent air of knowledge and self-confidence and Fonthill was reminded again of how amazed he had always been at the skill of these young men who, looking as though they had just left the sixth form of their schools, were leading men into action with the sangfroid of veterans. It was, he reflected, the Empire at its best.
    Buckingham turned as he picked his way down the shale. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he called back. ‘There’s someone in my troop who is most anxious to meet you. Come on. As soon as we’re safely on the road, I’ll introduce you.’

C HAPTER T WO
    The troopers, who had ranged over the hills on both sides of the track remarkably quickly, now trudged down again and quickly re-formed on the road. Intrigued by the reference to someone who wanted to meet him, Fonthill regarded the men with interest.
    They were smartly turned out in collarless khaki tunics atop riding breeches with tightly bound puttees and black boots. (Simon recalled that, at their formation in 1846, at a time when every British soldier wore scarlet, they were the first troops to adopt khaki – an Urdu word of Persian origin meaning dusty or dust-coloured.) Polished leather cross belts gave prominence to their chests and red cummerbunds circled their waists. Their turbans were tightly bound and featured contrasting colours. They carried Martini-Henry carbines and cavalry sabres dangled from their saddles. They were all Pathans, natives of the Frontier, with the high cheekbones, prominent, sharp noses andferocious black beards indigenous to these peoples, and they were, without a doubt, a handsome bunch.
    Returning their grins now, Fonthill remembered that they had been recruited originally as an irregular force whose purpose it was to gather intelligence of tribal movements and act as guide to troops in the field. Shortly after their formation, they had won acclaim in the Mutiny by marching in record time across the north of India, from the Border to Delhi, to support the loyal troops besieging the city. From that moment, although they had retained their nomenclature as Guides, they had been subsumed into the India army as fighting men – and specialists in mountain warfare. Although recruited from the Border tribes, the Guides never suffered any defections or mutinous revolts. They were regarded as one of the most trusted units in the British Raj.
    With snorts from the horses and a jingle of harness, the troops mounted and Simon, Alice and Jenkins trotted forward to join Buckingham at their head.
    ‘Now, Captain,’ said the lieutenant, ‘I promised you that there was someone in particular who was most anxious to meet you.’
    ‘So you did.’ Fonthill looked into the dark faces behind them. ‘I must confess I can’t quite think who it would be.’
    ‘Ah.’ The young man chuckled. It was clear he was happy to be playing some sort of game. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I will give you a clue.