Midnight Webs

STORY ONE, CHAPTER ONE.

Dub-dub-dub-dub-dub-dub. Just one soft beat given by the boys in
front--the light sharp tap upon their drums, to mark the time for the
march--and in heavy order there we were, Her Majesty's 156th regiment of
Light Infantry, making our way over the dusty roads with the hot morning
sun beating down upon our heads. We were marching very loosely, though;
for the men were tired, and we were longing for the halt to be called,
so that we might rest during the heat of the day, and then go on again.
Tents, baggage-wagons, women, children, elephants--all were there; and
we were getting over the ground at the rate of about twenty miles a day,
on our way up to the station, where we were to relieve a regiment going
home.

I don't know what we should have done if it hadn't been for Harry Lant,
the weather being very trying--almost as trying as our hot red coats and
heavy knapsacks and flower-pot busbies, with a round white ball like a
child's plaything on the top; but no matter how tired he was, Harry Lant
had always something to say or do; and even if the colonel was close by,
he'd say or do it. Now, there happened to be an elephant walking along
by our side, with the captain of our company, one of the lieutenants,
and a couple of women in the howdah; while a black nigger fellow, in
clean white calico clothes, and not much of 'em, and a muslin turban,
and a good deal of it, was striddling on the creature's neck, rolling
his eyes about, and flourishing an iron toasting-fork sort of thing,
with which he drove the great flap-eared patient beast. The men were
beginning to grumble gently, and shifting their guns from side to side,
and sneezing, and coughing, and choking in the kicked-up dust, like a
flock of sheep, when Captain Dyer scrambles down off the elephant, and
takes his place alongside us, crying out cheerily: "Only another mile,
my lads, and then breakfast."