"
Muttering the last words, Malcolm set out, and he carried him safely
over very rough ground, under a heavy shower of bullets and rockets, for
one hundred and fifty yards to where the nine men awaited them.
Malcolm's strength was now gone; but Henderson had recovered his powers
a little, and joining hands with him, they managed to carry Henry on to
the spot where the last company of the Fusiliers and a company of
Gourkas were forming, a sharp fire being kept up all the time on both
sides.
Neither of them expected to reach the company, as they told one another
in after days. Their sole expectation was to drop with their burden on
the stony path of Ghoraphir, and leave their bones among the wild hill
tribes.
"McGregor, you have carried Archer all the way?--Incredible!" cried his
brother officers.
"Not I alone--Henderson helped. Let us improvise some kind of stretcher,
and get him on with us, men, for Heaven's sake."
A stretcher was obtained, and he was carried on, while the retreat
continued, the two companies alternately firing to keep back the enemy,
who pursued for three miles.
* * * * *
Henry lay helpless in a bare room in the fort--a blessed haven of refuge
for the sick and wounded.
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