Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1886-07-29
A Trust Well Kept.
BY EDMUND LYONS.

The torrent of mutiny in India that
had been gathering volume and force
in secret for months had burst its bar
riers at last, and was sweeping along as
though past all control. The gallant
old Colonel Pratt had paraded his regi-
ment in front of his bungalow, and
with his gray hair rippled by warm
breeze, had exp, essed to them his i'll
founded confidence that though all
the other Sepoys rose in rebellion, they
would never rise. His men, whom he
always spoke of as "his children
greeted his speech with ringing cheers
Two hours later they had murdered
the veteran, and under their own
chosen leaders. were marching to Delhi,
their band playing, with the curious
inconsistency for which the mutineers
from first to last were famous, the Eng
lsh national anthem, "God Save the
Queen" Allahabad had fallen. Every
officer at thSmess table, with one eX-
ception, had been butcherel by the
servant who stood behind him, and
struck with his knife when the signal
was given. The one who escaped the
general doom, and who was called,
when the story was told, the Martyr
Of Allahabal," sprang through a win
dow of the mess room, and reaching
the banks of the Ganges plunged in
and swan for many miles; hiding in
the Jungle during the day, and drifting
with the current at night; suffering in
credible hardships, to die of native
fever induced by the exposure when
friends and apparent safety were reach
ed at last.
Other officers belonging to that ILL
fated mess escaped. Not many, and
those only because they were not at the
table when the murdcrous signal was
given. One of them, having been de-
tained by regimental business, was
hurrying to join his comrades when a
woman stopped him by coming with
startling suddenneas from the shadow
of a cIump Of bamboos beside the road
"Sahib, don't 90 on!' she said, speak
ing in her own language. "They are
all dead by this time. Boden Singh
was behind your chair, his knife ready
and had YOU been in it you would have
been with Allah now. Bodin Singh
was mad with rage, and waiting. lie
had waited so long that he said he
could wait no longer. lie wanted tc
murder you last night when you were
asleep on the charpoy, but | told him
if he did so it would not be easy to get
the officers all together at the mess to-
night. So he agreed to wait a little
longer and stab you in the back, as the
others were stabbed, while he stood
behind at dinner. He has killed some
body else by this time. to make up fol
having missed you. Yes, it is terrible,
but why did you put the grease on the
cartridges? All, here they come!'
The butchery was over, and a troor
of soldiers, accompanied by the servants
who had slain their masters, were
marching down the road, headed by
band playing "Rule Britannia" The
woman who had spoken was Pooniah,
the wife of the villain, Boden Singh
Boden Singh was the ''bearer' or body
servant Of the officer who had beer
warned. I was the officer.
'Quick, Sahib!' she exc laimed, has
tly. as l stood irresolute in the middle
Of the road. They will see us in a
minute. Hide in the clump of bam'
boos!" And in moment we were crouch
ing there, side by side, while the mutt
neers came on, marching with tina,
steady military step that they had
learned so we'll from their English mas
ters. They had learned some other
things, too, from the same teachers
and in few months they showed all
| too plainly that the seed Of instruction
had not been cast upon barren soil.
"Why did you put grease on the
cartrlges?' At that moment, with life
and death hanging about evenly III the
| balance, those words and their evil IN
ference were ringing in my brain. AS
suredlY ths pork grease on the car
tridgea had in some degree Aastened