t wasn't until we were nearly clear that things got badly
threatening and we had to make a stand. I believe the idea was that we
must hold our ground until help arrived. But am I boring you?"

"Oh! no," said Mrs. Chudleigh. "Please don't stop."

"Well, we were awkwardly placed in the bottom of a pass, but there was
a small steep hill that strengthened our position and Blake made the
trenches. He did it well, in the daylight, because there was no time
to lose, with marksmen we couldn't see firing at him from among the
rocks. I must say that although they made very good shooting and got
several of his men he never flinched."

"He was not a nervous man, was he?"

"One wouldn't have imagined so after seeing him coolly doing his work
with the bullets flattening on the stones all round; but I'll confess I
could never understand what happened afterwards. The orders were that
the hill must be held at any cost, but as our line was long we couldn't
send up many men. Blake stayed with his few sappers, we had a gun from
the mule battery, and there was Challoner, myself, and two more
officers with a handful of native infantry. It was about two in the
morning when the fellows made their rush, a band of Ghazees leading it,
and I'll own that we were all a little overstrung. Forced marches on
half rations and lying awake night after night expecting an attack are
wearing. For all that, it was a strong position, and though there were
not many of them we felt we could trust the men. The hill was hard to
climb except by a ravine the gun did not command and Blake had laid a
mine there. Challoner held the ridge immediately above."

"What is your opinion of Bertram Challoner? Is he a good officer?"

"One of the best. He's what you could call conscientious; took his
duties seriously and knew more about the scientific side of his
business than any of us. In a way, that was curious, because I imagine
that he hadn't much natural aptitude for soldiering and while he was
cool in action one felt he had to work himself up to it. Nobody
doubted his pluck, but I've seen him looking rather white after a hot
brush."

"A nervous temperament, held well in hand," Mrs. Chudleigh suggested.
"But go on; I'm sorry I interrupted you."

"There was a challenge, a yell from the stabbed sentry, and the beggars
were upon us. No time to think; the face of the hill swarmed with
them. The gunners only fired one round before they were cut down, a