mortal soul, and before God equal rights with him. Colonel Parsons was
a man whose piety was so unaggressive, so good-humoured, so simple, that
none could resist it; ribaldry and blasphemy were instinctively hushed
in his presence, and even the most hardened ruffian was softened by his
contact.

But a couple of years before he would naturally have been put on
half-pay under the age limit, a little expedition was arranged against
some unruly hill-tribes, and Colonel Parsons was given the command. He
took the enemy by surprise, finding them at the foot of the hills, and
cut off, by means of flanking bodies, their retreat through the two
passes behind. He placed his guns on a line of hillocks to the right,
and held the tribesmen in the hollow of his hand. He could have
massacred them all, but nothing was farther from his thoughts. He
summoned them to surrender, and towards evening the headmen came in and
agreed to give up their rifles next day; the night was cold, and dark,
and stormy. The good Colonel was delighted with the success both of his
stratagem and of his humanity. He had not shed a single drop of blood.

"Treat them well," he said, "and they'll treat you better."

He acted like a gentleman and a Christian; but the enemy were neither.
He never dreamed that he was being completely overreached, that the
natives were using the delay he had unsuspectingly granted to send over
the hills urgent messages for help. Through the night armed men had been
coming stealthily, silently, from all sides; and in the early morning,
before dawn, his flanking parties were attacked. Colonel Parsons, rather
astonished, sent them help, and thinking himself still superior in
numbers to the rebellious tribesmen, attacked their main body. They
wanted nothing better. Falling back slowly, they drew him into the
mountain defiles until he found himself entrapped. His little force was
surrounded. Five hours were passed in almost blind confusion; men were
shot down like flies by an enemy they could not see; and when, by
desperate fighting, they managed to cut their way out, fifty were
killed and over a hundred more were wounded.

Colonel Parsons escaped with only the remnants of the fine force he had
commanded, and they were nerveless, broken, almost panic-stricken. He
was obliged to retreat. The Colonel was a brave man; he did what he could
to prevent the march from becoming a disorderly rout. He gathered his
men together, put courage into t