Draw Swords! Part 23

They strolled over to the great stables where the huge beasts were chained by one leg to short, picket-like posts, and stood swaying their heads about and writhing their trunks.

d.i.c.k's friend held out his proboscis directly, but the lad had nothing for him, and the great beast seemed to understand it and to be friendly all the same, pa.s.sing the end of his soft trunk about the visitors'

arms, and suffering it to be held before the pair went away.

"Yes," said Wyatt in his big, simple way, "I like elephants. Wouldn't mind keeping one for a pet, even if he ruined me for his prog. I do wish, though, they went to a better tailor's."

"Went where?" cried d.i.c.k, laughing.

"Better tailor's. Their trousers never seem to fit."

d.i.c.k and his big friend parted soon after, Wyatt having an appointment to see Hulton about some business connected with the troop, leaving d.i.c.k with two important matters to think about--the possibility of going up-country and seeing service, and the horror of the punishment to be meted out to a man in whom he could not help taking a great deal of interest. He went over these themes for some time, connecting the former with the sword that he meant to have sent to the armourer that day.

That night, when he went to bed, a fresh train of thought commenced in connection with Wyatt, and he dwelt long upon his friend's words, and the glimpse he had caught of what the man really was.

"I didn't know," thought d.i.c.k, as he dwelt long upon the sad page in the lieutenant's history, "but I began to like him directly, and I believe he began to like me. He must, or he wouldn't have been so friendly. It seems so strange, too, for we make a curious pair. I am right, though-- big, brave man as he is, he is quite a boy at heart."

d.i.c.k lay thinking then, his mind back upon the punishment, and the horror of being paraded out in the open s.p.a.ce yonder to see that horrible flogging.

"Could I do anything to stop it?" he thought, and this kept him wakeful for another hour; while, when in the silence of the hot night he did drop asleep, it was to have the imaginary scene of the preparation for the punishment all before his eyes, while he looked on, saying to himself:

"Can't I do something to stop all this?"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A SPECIAL PLEADER.

d.i.c.k woke up the next morning with the words at the end of the last chapter seeming to ring in his ears, just as if he had spoken them aloud.

There was early parade that morning, and some das.h.i.+ng evolutions were performed with wonderful accuracy, for his share in which d.i.c.k received some friendly words of praise from the captain.

"You promise to be a smart officer some day, Darrell," he said. "Keep at it, and you'll do."

At another time the young officer would have gone in to his morning meal with an extra flush upon his cheeks--one not caused by the sun; but the praise fell upon almost deaf ears on this occasion, for d.i.c.k had gone through everything quite mechanically, his mind being occupied with the trouble that was to come off, and the thought that, even if Sir George Hemsworth was the general in command of the forces in that district, he was still his father's old school-fellow and friend.

"He can only bully me," thought d.i.c.k. "I'll risk it, come what may."

"Anything the matter, old fellow?" said Wyatt over breakfast. "Not ill, are you?"

"Oh, no: bit hot and tired."

"Go and lie down after breakfast. Get flat on your back. Takes the ache out of it splendidly. Wonderfully restful."

Half-an-hour later Wyatt growled to himself as he caught sight of d.i.c.k crossing the parade-ground in the hot sun.

"Ugh! you obstinate young cub! What's the use of my trying to play father to you if you don't take my advice, eh? Now, where's he going?

He can't want a walk. Why, he's going to the general's quarters. What does he want there?"

Wyatt sat thinking for a few minutes.

"Of course! I forgot. Knew the boy's father. Old man don't take much notice of him, though. Perhaps it's all right. Favouritism's bad, and George is just; I will say that. Sent for him, perhaps. Didn't tell me."

But d.i.c.k had no such thing to tell his friend, while he shrank from telling what he could have told, feeling perfectly sure that Wyatt would have tried to veto it.

d.i.c.k had, after s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g himself up to the sticking-point, gone straight across to the general's, interviewed the aide-de-camp on duty, sent in his card, and the officer came out to say Sir George would see him as soon as he had finished a letter.

The letter must have been a very brief one, for before the aide-de-camp and the visitor had got half into an account of the slaying of a wild boar with spears the general's bell was heard.

"That's for you, Mr Darrell," said the staff officer, "_entrez_!"

d.i.c.k went in, and the keen-eyed, grey-haired gentleman in white, seated at his writing-table, rose and shook hands.

"How are you, Richard Darrell?" he said. "You are growing much like what your father was as a boy. Hah!"

He paused for a few moments, looking at the young man thoughtfully.

Then he was the stern, businesslike officer again.

"Now, Mr Darrell," he said gravely, "you wished to see me on particular business. As few words as you can, please, for I am much occupied over despatches from up the country. What is it--a pet.i.tion?"

"Yes, Sir George," said d.i.c.k, speaking with military precision; "I have come to beg that Private Robert Hanson of my troop may not be flogged."

The general frowned, and stood looking at the young officer sternly; but d.i.c.k's eyes did not for a moment blench.

"This is a strange application, Mr Darrell," said the general sternly--"an extremely young subaltern applying to me, his general officer, to alter the sentence p.r.o.nounced, after a proper trial, upon a man who for a long period has gone on breaking the regulations of the service. It is a most unheard-of proceeding on the part of a young officer."

"Yes, sir," said d.i.c.k: "I feel that. I know it is, but I do not come to you as the general in command, but as my father's old school-fellow and friend."

"Your father's old school-fellow and friend has nothing to do with the matter, sir," replied Sir George sternly. "It is the officer in command here who has signed and approved of the sentence. Young man, I never allow friends.h.i.+p to bias my duty to the Government who have trusted me."

"Of course not, Sir George."

"Then why did you come to me as your father's friend?"

"Because I was young and ignorant, Sir George, I suppose, and in my eagerness to save that poor fellow."

"Exactly. You are young and impulsive, sir. This is not at all correct."

"I beg your pardon, Sir George. I have done wrong in the way I came,"

said d.i.c.k earnestly. "Let me come to you, then, as my officer whom I wish to obey."

"But this is not in proper form, Mr Darrell. You should have written."

"I suppose so, sir."

"Well, as you are here, tell me what induces you to come and plead for this poor fellow, as you call him."

"Because I have seen so much of him in the short time I have been with the troop, Sir George. He is such an excellent soldier--one of the smartest men we have."