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FIFTY SHORTSTORIESI BY WELL-KNOWN…

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FIFTY SHORTSTORIESI BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS, I Shot in the Back. I By HERBERT RUSSELL. Author of "A Romance of the Goodwins," &c. i I was walking one day through a narrow ack street in the dingy neighbourhood of Soho with my old friend Colonel B an officer whose name is memorably associated with some of the most famous exploits in he Indian Mutiny. He was in the midst .of repeating some ''good story" which he had recently picked up in the smoking-room of the Rag," when he suddenlly broke off abruptly in his recital, at the same time coming to a pause upon the pavement. I glanced at him to perceive the cause of this interruption, and saw that he was staring up at a grimy-looking second-hand clothes shop, abreast of which We had arrived one of those stores with which the purlieus of London abound, the proprietors whereof each and all guarantee to pay the very highest possible price in the irade for cast-off apparel of every sort, having generally immense orders on hand to supply the colonies, till one would almost fancy that their sanguine competition must make second-hand clothes more costly to buy ihan new garments. Through the dirty windows of this particular shop were dimly visible piles of dusky-looking trousers and jackets, with a battered hat or two tossed carelessly amongst them along the front of the premises outside ^dangled a row of nondescript articles, most ancient uniform coats, with a hiatus where the door came, over which appeared the name of Isaac Bungay, accompanied by a pressing invita- tion for the tender of old silver. "This is very curious," said Colonel B slowly advancing a step or two nearer the shop as he spoke.1 H What is very curious I inquired. j Why, that old tunic," said he, raising his stick and pointing to a faded scarlet military coat, hanging limp between a pair of yellow-striped breeches and what looked like a theatrical queen's robe. 4' I see nothing particularly strange about it," said I, after a careless glance. Probably not; but then you will under- 3tand my interest when I tell you that it was the uniform of the regiment in which 1 3erved through my first campaign, and that, unless I am greatly mistaken, there is a history attached to that very identical tunic. Pray let me hear it, said I. As I spoke a stout little man emerged from the gloom of the interior, and stood in the Joorway surveying UR. He then said,— Good day, shentlemen anything I cn do for you ?" What are you asking for that old mili- tary ccat P inquired Colonel 13- point- ing to it. The fac little man stepped on to the pave- ment to look up "at the garment,and promptly .said, Thirty bob, thir. The old lace upon it's really worth the money." Keep it then," answered the Colonel, and was moving off, when the fellow cried to him to sthop," and not be in a 'urry." 44 you give '1" said he. 44 Ten shillings," said the Colonel. You shall it," said the man," but you must carry it yourself. Make it into a parcel for me," said my friend. The Jew fetched a pole with a hook on the top of it, took down the tunic and carried it into his shop. A moment later he appeared with a brown paper parcel, which he delivered to my companion, who there- upon paid him his money, and we walked away. 44 Corae with me to my rooms," said he, and there we will examine this old coat, And I will tell you the story I mentioned." I acquiesced, and in a quarter of an hour we arrived at the mansions wherein Colonel had a flat. I ascended with him into his sitting-room, and when he had produced It decanter of whiskey and a box of cigars, he cut the string of the parcel, and spread the tunic upon the table. It looked very old on & near inspection the badges and buttons and lace upon it being nearly black with tarnish, and the cloth stained and mil- I dewed in the last degree. Ha exchimed my friend suddenly, whilst turning the antiquate gaudy article of unHorm about. Here it !s—this settles I the point He held up the coat so as to show me a large brown patch in the back of it, right between the shoulders, with a little hole in I the centre, blackened and charred at the edges. Do you know what that is 1" said he grimly, puffing at his cigar. A bullet hole, I should imagine;" Ire. plied. I Right he answered. A bullet hole it is there is no doubt about it. This is the very tunic that poor Paigrave was wear- ing when he wag-" murdered in a fight we had near Futtehpoor. You observe the bullet hole is in the back consequently the man who had this coat on must have been shot from behind. But now I will tell the wtory, aa I promis:- It was in the uventfui year 54, that I was a young subaltern in the —th Foot, then quartered at Hyderabad. Paigrave was the captain of the company T was in. He was a strange chap very tall, dark, and handsome with a strong foreign look, which made us suspect that one, at least, of his parents was not English. One quality Ie had which did not popularise him parti- cularly in the regiment; he was strict almost to absolute brutality with his men. When- ever a soldier was brought to the triangle it I was usually Palgrave's doing, and I have several times heard old Colonel Lonsdale remonstrate with him after parade had been dismissed about the overbearing manner in which he reprimanded the men for the least I rror:in their drill. M?st of the soldiers in I aur company were Irishmen, and I don't say they were not very irritating, and often needed a taut hand but Paigrave was too severe altogether, and I don't believe a man ¡I ever made the better ollicer for being a mar- linet. 44 Well, when the mutiny broke out, our battalion was at once ordered to march to- wards Oude, which was the hotbed of the rising. At that time he never dreamt that the revolt was going to be one of such mag- nitude and terrible consequences, though day after day, as we passed through the native towns and villages, wegheard vague reports of the horrors being enacted at Cawnpore and Lucknow, and Delhi, and other cities whose names are inseparably Associated with the memoirs of that awful ^■•riod. When we came into the thick of the enemy's country, we used to march with advance guards thrown out, and one morn- ing, as we were nearing the town of Futteh- poor, the scouts fell back upon the main body of the regiment with news that a con- siderable force of Sepoys was coming in our direction. We at once formed in order of battle, and by the time that we were ready to receive them, the rebels had appeared in sight, advancing amidst a cloud of dust, and apparently twice as strong as we were, in point of numbers. As soon as they got within range lire was opened on both sides, and we were soon in the thick of a furious I fight. There was a soldier in my company, a lance-sergeant named O'Brien, a native of Cork, and a hot-headed, passionate fellow. Whilst our men were firing away as hard as they could load, nearly obscured by the clouds of smoke settling over the field, I saw captain Paigrave dart at this man, who was in the rear rank, and after uttering some lierce exclamation, strike him savagely across the face with the flat of Ibis sword. What the soldier's offence was I do not know probably nothing worse than tardiness in loading his musket; but the assault seemed to me at the time a cowardly one, and I saw red scar upon the face of the Irishman where the blade had struck him. No doubt ill the brute instincts in Palgrave were stirred by the rage and excitement which the sound of battle will often create in men. O'Brien said nothing he was too well Aisciplined a soldier to answer his superior officer but I caught the look he gave him, and thought from the bitter hate in it that Captain Paigrave would do well in future to look to himself when passing posts where the Irishman was on sentry by night-time. 44 At that moment the bugles along our ihin, red line rang out the charge. Their clarion notes rose clear above the rattling boom of the musketry, and with a wild cheer the men started on their feet, and, JØiDg bayonets as they ran, made for the 1 enemy. I drew my sword, intending to j rush out in front. Palgrave was ahead of j me, and I saw him dash forward, shoutinc, to the men to come on. Every now and f then a piece was discharged in our ranks, though the soldiers were supposed to have ceased fire on the order to charge. I see the picture in fancy now as clearly as I saw it then. O'Brien was racing along beside me P?lgrave was in front. I heard a sharp report close to my ears, and turning my head for an instant, saw the Irishman's weapon smoking, whilst his face wore an almost demoniacal expression of f passion as he whipped out his bayonet and i clapped it on to the muzzle. When I looked forward again Palgrave had thrown up his arms and was tum hhng to the ground. And then I instantly guessed what probably none of the others had observed in that moment of wild, headlong scramble and confusion the villainous lance-sergeant had< shot him." The Colonel paused for a moment or two whilst he looked at the dingy tunic, then proceeded— We carried the position, and put the enemy to flight, but at a terrible cost to our ) small force. When the roll came to be called it was found that one-third of our men lay dead or wounded upon the parched soil of that Indian battlefield, and among the miss- ing was Lance-sergeant O'Brien. What be- came of poor Palgrave's body I cannot tell. But, extraordinary as it may seem, that this is the very coat he wore when he was killed I have as little doubt a.3 that! am at this moment addressing you." By this time I was regarding the old I piece of uniform with a real interest, I and when my friend again came to a stop, I advanced to the table and inspected the tunic more narrowly than I had yet felt the curiosity to do. Now that I had heard the Colonel's story, the sight of the faded bit of finery served to conj ure up dim visions of the fierce conflict in which its wearer had fallen. I saw in fancy the dense pall of smoke obscuring the bright tropical sky, the figures of our own red-coated sol- diers rushing over the sandy soil towards the masses of savage natives, whose swarthy visages showed in angry array through rifts in the clouds behind the glittering, serried hedgo of their bayonets. 1 took the dilapi- dated coat in my hands, turning it about to get a good view of the bullet hole behind,and crumpling the mouldy cloth of it betwixt my fingers. Whilst thus engaged I thought I felt a small stiff object buried in the quilted padding or lining of the breast. 4' There is something hidden here," said I to my companion. 44 What ?" said he, with a look of excite- ment. Sometiiing hidden, you say ? Let me feel—ha I believe you are right. But we will make sure. Have you a knife in your pocket ? I pulled out a penknife, opened the blade, and passed it to him. He laid the tunic upon the table, and proceeded to rip up the lining of it at that spot where he had felt the hidden object. He then put his hand in among the cottonwool of the padding, felt about for a few seconds, uttered an exclama- tion, and drew forth a small, nat, sealed pàckage. His fingers trembled sligMly with j agitation as he broke it open. No doubt the recollection of an old brother officer rose in a strong and sacred memory within the gallant Colonel as he found himself prying into the secrets of the dead. When the paper was opened there fell out of it a little Dei, or charm, shaped like a heart wist) of golden hair, bound round with a blue silken thread and the miniature of a young girl, The Colonel gazed at these things long and pensively, then passed them on to me with something very like a sigh. 44 Ah he exclaimed, I suppose it is the old, old story. Poor Paigrave was somebody's darling THE END.

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