THE REGIMENTAL COOK

The sun had long risen when George awoke from his heavy, dreamless slumber. Tired nature had at last demanded and received her share of the healing balm of sleep. The day had been exciting, and eventful; and though the nervous strain had been great, it was long before his busy brain allowed him to get to sleep. When it did, however, it was hours before his body was sufficiently refreshed to begin the new day.

The sun was pouring down with scorching intensity when he sprang from his blankets; the heat of the atmosphere was like that of an oven, and he flung back the fastenings of the doorway and plunged his head into a bucket of water that stood ready to hand. Thoroughly refreshed and cooled with his dip, he set out in search of breakfast, his thoughts running wild over the events of the preceding day, as he made his way down the lines towards the cook-house.

As he hurried along he was astonished at the number of men who paused in their work to take notice of him. As a matter of fact, he was scarcely known to any one, except the officers with whom he came into contact in his work, and yet he was greeted like an old friend by nearly every one he came across. It was some time before he began to realize that, in some way, the events of yesterday had brought this about.

Reaching the cook-house, he plunged into the subject of breakfast. Had the cook anything to eat?

"Anything to eat?" replied that worthy. "Well, rather. Always got something for you, Mr. Helmar!" his greasy face smiling with a look of pride at the man who had so distinguished himself on the hill yesterday.

"I'm beastly hungry, and am afraid I'm a bit late," said George apologetically. "But I was so tired that I overslept myself."

"Late? Not a bit of it—leastways, not for you. Here y'are, I been a-savin' this for you," and the benevolent-looking "slushy" dived into an oven and produced a piece of steak and some onions on a tin plate.

George accepted this mark of extreme favour with the greatest pleasure. The steak smelt savoury, although, by the looks of it, he thought it would have done credit to a shoemaker's shop; but he fell to with such a healthy appetite that the cook was still further pleased.

"'Ere, 'av a drop o' my kauffee," he said, holding out a pannikin of the steaming liquid; "there's a goodish 'stick' in it," he added, with a knowing wink.

George accepted it without demur. He did not care for brandy, but he felt that he was under an obligation to the man and would not hurt his feelings by refusing what the soldiers considered a priceless treasure.

While George was discussing his solid breakfast the cook looked on, chattering away about the doings of yesterday, avoiding with soldier-like tact Helmar's share in the proceedings; but just as the meal was over and he was about to depart, he said—

"S'pose you won't be 'avin' many more meals along o' us?"

"What do you mean?" asked George, in surprise.

The man smiled and looked knowing.

"Orficers' mess grub better'n we do, yer know," he replied, winking with the whole side of his face.

"Yes, I dare say they do, but that's got nothing to do with it," said George.

"Ho, 'asn't it! They tells me as you are a-goin' to be made a horsifer."

Our hero laughed, and the man looked offended.

"No, no, that's wrong. You know, I'm not English, they can't do that—besides, there's no reason for it."

"Well, now, I never thought o' that," replied the cook, somewhat crestfallen. "But they're a-goin' to do somethin' for yer; everybody's a-talkin' about 'ow you got them guns up the 'ill, and I sez, right yer are, I sez, 'e's a chap as deserves to git hon."

George was quite confused at the man's praise, and, to avoid more of it, said good-bye and left the kitchen. What he had heard had opened his eyes. Now he knew the meaning of his morning's greetings from the strangers he had passed. Apparently he was looked upon as a sort of hero—well, he hoped they would find him something to do to prove their belief in him.

Cutting across the parade ground towards the office, where his duties as interpreter required him, he was met by an orderly sergeant.

"Mornin', Mr. Helmar. I was just coming to look for you. You're wanted at the office. I think," he went on, impressively, "there's a little trip on hand and you are to go on it."

"Good! Do you know what it is, and where to?"

"Can't say, I'm sure. They keep these things very quiet. The Adjutant's inside," he went on, "you'd better go in."

Helmar stepped in. A group of officers, standing round a desk, turned as he entered.

"Ah," said one who was sitting at the table with a chart spread in front of him, "I want you to hold yourself in readiness to accompany Captain Forsyth, this evening, on a patrol towards Kafr Dowar. You will act as interpreter. The commanding officer has selected you, as the work to be done will entail considerable risk, and we require a reliable man. Further instructions will be given you by Captain Forsyth. The patrol starts at sundown. You can go now and get ready."

"Very good, sir," replied George, and turned to leave. One of the officers followed, and, as they got outside, joined him.

"Your orders are not very explicit, Helmar," said he, "and probably convey but little to you. Of course, I dare say you know that after yesterday's engagement Arabi has retreated to Kafr Dowar. It is believed he has some thousands gathered under his banner, but we want to be sure. We are going out to gather all information possible, in which work you will be of great assistance to me."

"You, then, are Captain Forsyth?" asked George, at once.

"Yes, I asked that you might accompany me, for I do not care to trust to the native interpreters, and, besides," with a smile, "I am glad to have a man who not only can fight, but is also a man of resource."

"I don't know the country, sir," answered Helmar doubtfully, "and, under the circumstances, that seems to me to be a vital point. Arabi's men are pretty smart, and no doubt there will be many traps to avoid."

"I have taken all that into consideration. As far as the country is concerned, I will answer for that, and the traps—well, we must be as shrewd as the enemy."

"I am only too glad of the chance," said Helmar, afraid lest, in offering objections, the officer should think he did not want to go, "and if it comes to a tight corner, I will give the best account of myself possible."

"That's all right, then," said Captain Forsyth. "And now you had better go and get ready. I am going to let you use one of my own horses instead of a trooper; a blanket on the saddle is all that you can carry, except, of course, a day or two's rations in your wallet in case of accidents. You can get your arms from the quartermaster."

The officer returned to the room, and Helmar hurried off to secure all that he needed.

There was but little difficulty; evidently orders had been given beforehand, for his equipments were laid out and waiting for him. In an hour's time he had collected together everything he required, and the rest of the day was his own.

His spirits were at the highest possible pitch, and the thoughts of the luck which was following him made him feel ready to undertake the most daring enterprises. He blessed the engineer officer who had given him the opportunity with the guns the day before. The drudgery of ganging natives in the trenches seemed as if it had now gone for ever, and he was about to embark on responsible work, or, at least, work that would give him scope to prove his mettle. The more he thought of it, the more castles he built of rising to a big position, until, at last, realizing the absurdity of his dreams, he brought himself back to the practical side of his duty.

Late in the afternoon, about an hour before sundown, he again visited his friend the cook. He found that worthy looking as benevolently greasy as ever, and ready to offer him all the resources of his larder.

"I thought I'd come and get my tea now, cook, I've got to go out on patrol at sundown. I'm afraid I'm a beastly nuisance."

"Nuisance? No, o' course not. I ain't one o' them blokes as grumble cause a feller's 'ungry. Wot d'yer say to a bit o' cold meat and some tea to start with?"

"Splendid. I haven't had any dinner, I had breakfast so late, so we'll make up for it now."

"An' where are yer goin', if it's a fair question?" asked his companion.

"Well, I don't know that I ought to say. Still, I wasn't told to keep it quiet, so I suppose it doesn't matter. It seems old Arabi has retired to Kafr Dowar and is going to make a stand there. We're going to gather information. I don't suppose there'll be much excitement."

"Um," replied the cook, placing a pile of toast and dripping in front of his visitor. "I wouldn't mind bettin' a day's pay you git all the fun yer want afore yer git back."

"Why, what makes you think that?" asked George, amused at the man's tone of conviction.

"Yer don't know them horsifers like I do; I ain't been in service all these years for nothin'. I tell yer, if there wasn't no danger they'd a sent one o' them blessed blacks to interprit instead o' you. They knows you've got the grit, so they sends you, and it's odds yer don't come back with a 'ole skin."

George knew the man's words were not meant unkindly, although they were something of a raven's croaking; however, with undamped ardour, he attacked the pile of greasy toast and waited for his host to continue.

"I ain't got no opinion o' them all-fired Gypies!" he went on, as Helmar did not reply. "They're that treacherous as never, and if they gits 'old o' yer it means murder. Now, my advice is, an' I've 'ad twenty year experience as a soldier ov 'er Majesty Queen Victoria—the greatest soverin o' the day—askin' yer pardon, as yer a Doycher—wot I says is, bayonit 'em, an' when yer done it see as they ain't alive arter. If yer don't, yer a goner."

The good-natured cook had worked himself up to such a pitch of excitement as he laid the law down to our hero, that the latter was seriously afraid of apoplexy, and when the old fellow had finished, it was with difficulty he refrained from bursting out into a roar of laughter. However, keeping a straight face, he took a long pull at the pannikin of tea, and prepared to leave.

"I've no doubt you are right, cook, and I shan't forget your advice. Well, good-bye, see you again some day."

"Good-bye, Mr. Helmar," replied the cook, again beaming with good-nature and fat. "Good luck to you; don't forgit there's allers a drop o' good kauffee 'ere," and he turned to his work with a chuckle.

Helmar hurried back to his quarters, and calling the chief nigger of his gang up, sent him to Captain Forsyth's quarters for the horse. While he was gone George busied himself with looking to his saddle. Presently, the fellow returned with a fine upstanding, raw-boned, dark brown horse. The animal looked all fire and mettle, and as George cast his eye over it, he registered a mental vow to thank the officer for his generosity.

"You go to Kafr Dowar?" asked the nigger, as he held the horse for George to saddle him.

"What's it to do with you where I'm going?" he asked sharply. "Mind your own business."

"Be not angry with thy servant," said the man with a furtive glance, which he quickly averted as he caught Helmar's eye. "I but thought. Arabi is there."

"How do you know?" asked George quickly.

"I hear," was the evasive reply. Then, seeing the dissatisfied look on Helmar's face, he tried to ingratiate himself. "The horse is good, he will travel fast," he went on, with a glance of admiration at the animal.

For a moment Helmar was thrown off his guard.

"Yes, and it will take Arabi all his time to catch him, if we should come across him."

"Then you go to Kafr Dowar," said the man, with a grin.

George, seeing his mistake, was about to reply, when he saw the patrol getting ready, so, without further parley, he mounted his horse and rode towards them.