er bullets
at long range into the mob of the Ghazis returning to their own
troops.

The Fore and Aft Band, though protected from direct fire by the rocky
knoll under which it had sat down, fled at the first rush. Jakin and
Lew would have fled also, but their short legs left them fifty yards
in the rear, and by the time the Band had mixed with the regiment,
they were painfully aware that they would have to close in alone and
unsupported.

'Get back to that rock,' gasped Jakin. 'They won't see us there.'

And they returned to the scattered instruments of the Band; their
hearts nearly bursting their ribs.

'Here's a nice show for _us_,' said Jakin, throwing himself full
length on the ground. 'A bloomin' fine show for British Infantry! Oh,
the devils! They've gone an' left us alone here! Wot'll we do?'

Lew took possession of a cast-off water bottle, which naturally was
full of canteen rum, and drank till he coughed again.

'Drink,' said he shortly.' They'll come back in a minute or two--you
see.'

Jakin drank, but there was no sign of the Regiment's return. They
could hear a dull clamour from the head of the valley of retreat, and
saw the Ghazis slink back, quickening their pace as the Gurkhas fired
at them.

'We're all that's left of the Band, an' we'll be cut up as sure as
death,' said Jakin.

'I'll die game, then,' said Lew thickly, fumbling with his tiny
drummer's sword. The drink was working on his brain as it was on
Jakin's.

''Old on! I know something better than fightin',' said Jakin, 'stung
by the splendour of a sudden thought' due chiefly to rum. 'Tip our
bloomin' cowards yonder the word to come back. The Paythan beggars are
well away. Come on, Lew! We won't get hurt. Take the fife and give me
the drum. The Old Step for all your bloomin' guts are worth! There's a
few of our men coming back now. Stand up, ye drunken little defaulter.
By your right--quick march!'

He slipped the drum-sling over his shoulder, thrust the fife into
Lew's hand, and the two boys marched out of the cover of the rock into
the open, making a hideous hash of the first bars of the 'British
Grenadiers.'

As Jakin had said, a few of the Fore and Aft were coming back sullenly
and shamefacedly under the stimulus of blows and abuse; their red
coats shone at the head of the valley, and behind them were wavering
bayonets. But between this shattered line and the enemy, who with
Afghan suspicion feared that the hasty retreat meant a