Short Stories for High Schools. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
an angry and heated discussion followed. Wee Willie Winkie, standing over Miss Allardyce, waited the upshot. Surely his “wegiment,” his own “wegiment,” would not desert him if they knew of his extremity.
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The riderless pony brought the news to the 195th, though there had been consternation in the Colonel’s household for an hour before. The little beast came in through the parade-ground in front of the main barracks, where the men were settling down to play Spoilfive till the afternoon. Devlin, the Color-Sergeant of E Company, glanced at the empty saddle and tumbled through the barrack-rooms, kicking up each Room Corporal as he passed. “Up, ye beggars! There’s something happened to the Colonel’s son,” he shouted.
“He couldn’t fall off! S’help me, ’e couldn’t fall off,” blubbered a drummer-boy. “Go an’ hunt acrost the river. He’s over there if he’s anywhere, an’ maybe those Pathans have got ’im. For the love o’ Gawd don’t look for ’im in the nullahs! Let’s go over the river.”
“There’s sense in Mott yet,” said Devlin. “E Company, double out to the river—sharp!”
So E Company, in its shirt-sleeves mainly, doubled for the dear life, and in the rear toiled the perspiring Sergeant, adjuring it to double yet faster. The cantonment was alive with the men of the 195th hunting for Wee Willie Winkie, and the Colonel finally overtook E Company, far too exhausted to swear, struggling in the pebbles of the river-bed.
Up the hill under which Wee Willie Winkie’s Bad Men were discussing the wisdom of carrying off the child and the girl, a lookout fired two shots.
“What have I said?” shouted Din Mahommed. “There is the warning! The pulton are out already and are coming across the plain! Get away! Let us not be seen with the boy!”
The men waited for an instant, and then, as another shot was fired, withdrew into the hills, silently as they had appeared.
“The wegiment is coming,” said Wee Willie Winkie confidently to Miss Allardyce, “and it’s all wight. Don’t cwy!”
He needed the advice himself, for ten minutes later, when his father came up, he was weeping bitterly with his head in Miss Allardyce’s lap.
And the men of the 195th carried him home with shouts and rejoicings; and Coppy, who had ridden a horse into a lather, met him, and, to his intense disgust, kissed him openly in the presence of the men.
But there was balm for his dignity. His father assured him that not only would the breaking of arrest be condoned, but that the good-conduct badge would be restored as soon as his mother could sew it on his blouse-sleeve. Miss Allardyce had told the Colonel a story that made him proud of his son.
“She belonged to you, Coppy,” said Wee Willie Winkie, indicating Miss Allardyce with a grimy forefinger. “I knew she didn’t ought to go acwoss ve wiver, and I knew ve wegiment would come to me if I sent Jack home.”
“You’re a hero, Winkie,” said Coppy—“a pukka hero!”
“I don’t know what vat means,” said Wee Willie Winkie, “but you mustn’t call me Winkie any no more. I’m Percival Will’am Will’ams.”
And in this manner did Wee Willie Winkie enter into his manhood.
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